A round to remember, a hole to forget
Something clicked today on the front nine at Leo J. Martin. I had what my wife refers to as “transcendence” or “flow.” In sports terms, I was in the zone. I was unconscious. (Relatively speaking, of course.)
1st: Solid drive into the fairway. On in regulation. Two putts. Par.
2nd: Pulled the drive into the trees on the left, but had a clear shot back to the fairway if I could keep it below the branches. Took out a 7-iron and held the finish low. Perfect – landed right at the 150 marker in the fairway. Knowing that long is death, hit a pitching wedge about 10 yards short of the green. Chipped to 2 feet. Par.
3rd: Tee shot was pin-high but way right. Lobbed it up to a very tricky, very elevated green. Two-putt from 27 feet. Bogey.
4th: Tee shot was OK but a bit left, into the rough. Smashed a 7-iron 180 yards down the fairway (good roll). Intentionally played the approach safe and short again. Chipped to 8 feet and two-putted. Bogey.
5th: Tee shot straight but a bit short. Had to chip uphill with not much green between me and the pin. Something told me exactly how much loft to use. Made the four-foot putt. Par.
6th: Tee shot went left again but luckily bounced right over the fairway bunker. Pulled the approach shot, too, and landed in the fringe. Chip onto the green was OK, not great – left myself a 17-footer uphill and hit a 16.5-foot putt. Bogey.
7th: Used an iron off the tee and put it in the fairway with 135 left. Put a pitching wedge 30 feet below the hole on a severely sloping green. Lagged it to two feet. Par.
9th: Went left on this short par-4 but had only 50 yards to the green. Nice lob wedge to about 10 feet. Two putt. Par.
How about that? A 30-something handicap goes three over par for nine holes and … what? I did what? I didn’t tell you about the 8th hole? Oh, I guess you’re right. Well, if you insist …
8th: On the tee I had one thought: Don’t put it in the trees to the right. So I proceeded to put it in the trees to the right. On my way to the ball I was thinking “just take a bogey and get out of here.” Fortunately, I found the ball, sitting on a pile of leaves even with the 150 marker. I took my 7-iron, hoping to punch it out just like I had on the 2nd hole. I held my club behind the ball, taking aim, and … it moved. I had brushed the club against a leaf and the damned ball moved an eighth of an inch. I thought for a few seconds about the round I was having and about the fact that no one would ever know or really care. But I would know. I counted it as my second stroke. Now I don’t know if the next shot was spoiled by the tree root hidden under the leaves or by my irritation, but in any case I didn’t advance it far enough. I was now sitting only 100 yards out, but still in the rough and with overhanging branches interfering with my shot. I tried to keep it low with a gap wedge, but I struck it almost too well. It hit a branch and popped down – fortunately, this time it was in the fairway. Now I was lying four, though, and praying for double-bogey. I choked way down on a sand wedge and skulled it thirty yards past the green. Now I was tentative and just barely got my pitch back to the fringe. I finally got it on the green with a putter, but not very close. Two-putted. Nine. Quintuple bogey.
Now I can’t be too unhappy with a 44. It’s one of my best 9-hole scores ever. And I’m glad I was able to rebound from that terrible 8th to have a decent 9th. But oh, what could have been.
Whatever mojo was working for me today, I hope it stays with me for a while.
