For whatever reason, I awoke at about 2am this morning. It probably has something to do with a certain cat. But I found myself awake in the middle of the night, and we're again blanketed in white in the heartland. It's discouraging, to say the least, but it's happened before and I'm sure it will happen again at an even later date in the future...
Twenty years ago this spring, I was playing golf for my high school team. We had a good squad that year, and the first tourney of the year was played on our home course at the time, Alvamar, in Lawrence. I'll never forget it--It was April 2, and the weather forecast wasn't good. It was to be gray all day, and conditions were set to deteriorate as the day wore on. I thought this was good news for me, because I considered myself a "bad weather golfer." I used to hit the ball low with a draw (if I was lucky), and that lends itself well to a lot of the ridiculous weather one encounters in the Midwest. It's not by accident that Tom Watson found himself in contention for another British Open last year. The conditions in Kansas, if one is serious about playing golf, are formidable.
On this "Spring" day in 1990, it was anything but golfing weather. People were trying to play dressed in long underwear and parkas. The club officials seriously considered not even opening the course for play that morning, but by the time they could have made a decision, something in the neighborhood of ten mini-buses and vans were in their lot, and I guess they made a decision to pocket some cash. It wasn't like they stood to make any money off the sane population, all of whom were surely at home enjoying some hot chocolate and artificial heat...
I made the turn at 42, which I thought was a pretty good score that morning. Terrible north wind, and as I was finishing the nine, a pretty good slap of sleet was beginning to smack my face coming up the 9th fairway. No one else in my foursome was even breaking 50, and they all chalked it up to the poor conditions. I loved it. I wasn't nearly as good as the other quality players, so I needed an Act of God to keep me somewhat competitive. We were the first group in, and at that tournament there was no shotgun start. Everyone lined up on the first tee and went from there. That's rare at a high school tournament...
There were murmurs in the clubhouse that maybe we should take it easy for a bit and see what the weather would do. This was silly in my world, because the thing was just getting interesting for me. Golf can be an easy game to win, if one is the only person on the course who wants to be there. I'd already had some schnapps well before the tee-off, and I was still ready to go. Besides, I was hitting the ball well that day. I also dressed in deft defiance of the terrific weather, wearing only a turtleneck and long sleeves. I was freezing cold, of course, but it made for nice effect in contrast to those in Carharts and stocking hats. We headed to the tenth tee to taunt the obvious limitations of the day.
I played much better on the back nine than the front. I started hitting my putts, which of course, is the trick to scoring well. My problem had never been getting the ball to the green, it was that simple concept of keeping the ball on the ground that always led to the major defeats. But when the putts start falling, well, anything can happen.
We kept playing on, and it must have been about the twelfth green when the sleet became so bad and thick that the greens were covered in a white icy layer. The balls left tracks of green in their wake, incriminating any errant putts for the future groups to inspect. My putts on the back nine left a track from ball to hole. Almost every green. It shouldn't have happened that way, as one has to really pound the ball when it has to plow through an extra layer of impediment to get to the hole. The course in my little town has sand greens, so I had a bit of experience in really having to nail a putt to get it to go anywhere. It was heaven.
By about hole fourteen, I was the only person in my group not playing a colored ball. It was icy everywhere, and rain was mixing in nicely with the sleet, but I knew exactly where my ball was going, and I didn't see any need to switch up a ball that had served me well to that point. The weather, which had been so much a friend, was about to do me in.
I parred the next couple of holes, and hit a perfect drive on hole sixteen. I was in great position to murder that hole. About a hundred yards out, middle of the fairway. Great birdie opportunity. I was two over on the back, which was the best I'd played Quail Creek Nine to that point. It's very difficult. But the marshall's cart arrived, telling us the course was now closed. I didn't see any problem with the now half-inch of sleet blanketing the course, but they said something about killing off all the greens, which would have effectively ended my high-school golfing career. Hard to golf if you've killed your course...
I still felt good about my score on the ride back to the clubhouse, and as long as everyone had finished at least the nine, there would be a winner declared. I'd heard rumors that someone had posted a 41 on the front, but I didn't believe it. In this weather, it would be damned near impossible...but hey, I still don't understand how I shot as well as I did on the back. Must have been DeKuyper's..
Turned out my teammate shot the 41, and he won the aborted tourney by a stroke. We won the two-man competition by something like ten strokes or better, although we wouldn't have gotten anything at all in a four-man game. I'm not sure anyone else on the team broke 60 that day. To add insult to injury, some other guy tied me at 42, and I lost a scorecard playoff. I would have been something like ten strokes ahead of the both of them on the back nine...They got brutalized out there after the turn.
Maybe I used to have more fire to fight through the brutality of the Midwestern Winter. Is it stubbornness? Defiance? I don't know quite what it was that I used to have, but I wish I could find out what I did with whatever it was. I guess time has worn me down just a bit, and I have a hard time looking out the window to see that optimism of spring through the limited visibility of a continuing late Winter storm. For a first day of Spring, it's a long one. And I know it will be better soon. It has to be. I just have a continuing difficulty in bringing the future I know is out there to my present condition. So much of golf mirrors life. The mental condition makes virtually all the difference in the final score.
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