Ahhh…the rules of golf.
I used to be a stickler…back in the day when I used to golf for my high school’s golf team. Every outing of golf was used to determine my handicap.
However, as time passed, and I started to find the game more and more expensive because I wasn’t getting junior rates anymore, I found myself having to find ways to stay close to that once heralded, but now unreachable 80. However, I resisted. I finally had to find a compromise. When I golfed with others, I let them do whatever they want (as long as they didn’t beat me doing it). However, I always tended to pretty strict standards which I learned from playing (unsuccessfully) in tournaments as a kid.
Alas, I gave the game up. Such is life. My last hole ever was number 18 on a course up in lake country. After a very challenging 17 holes, I found myself still sitting three strokes under 80. After all that work and practice, I only needed par on an easy par three to acheive my lifetime goal.
I always had trouble with approach shots…be it on the fairway or on the teebox. I always considered myself an “accuracy” guy, as my drives were not always the longest but always in the fairway. I had pretty good confidence on being able to get the ball on the green from within 200 yards given the non-complexity of the situation. I was a goner in the sand, for instance. However, a 140 yard shot from the tee with no water, no hills, and one small sand trap strategically placed right in front of the green seemed to be no problem at all for par.
I shot. I thought I had a hole-in-one. There was a slight dip in the center of the green, and my ball disappeared right where the pin appeared to be. I was the last shooter in the group, so I sprinted up to where my ball lay on the green…less than two feet from the pin.
Ahhhh…the thought of savoring the honors for that milestone put. I savored every minute of it. Two minutes previous, I was fretting about missing par for a potential 80. There I was, sitting on a two foot put for a 79!
I waited and waited as my partners scored bogeys around. Finally, my turn to put came. I felt no pressure. Putting was my game. Anything inside 20 feet without a severe break was a given. My putting average was actually close to 1.5 puts per green…and I guarantee that average wasn’t helped by the placement of my approach shots.
Two footer, no problem…except I missed it. I left myself with a three foot put for par. OK…time to settle down.
But I missed it again. Guess what? I missed it again, too. I had to settle for a double bogey shot from the lip of the cup. I couldn’t stand the frustration. I let twenty years of visiting the links 5-7 times a week with a strict adheration to the rules, one of which always cost me my 80, out in one fell swoop. I did something I always wanted to do but never dared. I teed off with my putter. I never found the ball, either. It could have quite possibly been my best drive ever. It went straight even though my feet weren’t planted. It disappeared some trees that stood about 250 yards away. I can guarantee one thing…that ball never did find the hole.
In my heart I have kept that 79. That is probably the only rule of golf that I have ever broken.