You’re standing on the tee box, fancy driver in your hands. You’ve been hitting the ball fairly well, and you stare down the open par five. You take a deep breath, and all the stress and worry of the round – your swing, your alignment, the three-putt on the last hole – disappear. You wind up in your backswing, and come down with a smooth, fluid motion.
Your driver sings as you make contact with the ball, and the little white devil just leaps off the clubface. Straight, long, you watch the ball hit the fairway and roll. You smile – no, you beam. Your chest swells and you pick up your bag and take the walk to admire your Shot, with a capital “S”.
You walk up to the ball, and look out at the green, thinking to yourself, “If I hit my three wood from here, I could …” Glancing around, you see the sprinkler head and walk up to it to get a range to the green, when you realize that the greenskeeper is a sadistic bastard.
I was using my RSS reader to grab images from Flickr with the tag of “golf” when this image popped into my Inbox. Honestly, I’m glad the groundcrew at my club doesn’t have this cruel sense of humor. After hitting that Killer Drive, and feeling like I could take on the green in two, to look down and see that on the sprinkler head …
Okay, who am I kidding? I’d laugh my proverbial ass off.