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The point of the backswing is to turn your body and to slightly bend your trail elbow, to elevate your trail elbow (to varying degrees), and to hinge your wrists (to varying degrees).
The first bit — what's commonly called "turning your shoulders" — is the most important.
Getting the club to parallel is not even on the list.
A few weeks ago, right before the really nice weekend we had, it happened. I was looking forward to getting in one last round without dressing up like an Eskimo. Sometimes at the height of our reveries, when our joy is at its zenith... when all is most right with the world... the most unthinkable disasters descend upon us. While climbing down from a lift at work, my right foot missed the last step and went to the floor bending my left in an awkward position. I spend the weekend resting it, but it has been giving out on me. I finally caved and went to the doctor who ordered up an MRI which I had done this morning. At any rate, it looks like my year is definitely done. On the bright side, it didn't happen in the spring when the season is just getting started.
As I just posted in “What’d You Shoot Today?”, my brother played his first full eighteen in a while. Well, I say full eighteen, but he didn’t exactly play the entire round. He quit on a few holes and didn’t play the last hole. He dropped at my ball when he lost a ball. As I’ve mentioned several times, he wants to be on the team. Keep those details in mind.
The reason why I mention this: he was texting with our grandpa after the round (our grandpa loves to hear about our rounds), and when he was asked what he shot, he said a number that caught me off guard a bit. That number was 103. 103!!! In reality, the way he was hitting the ball, he probably wouldn’t have been within ten shots of that. When I asked him why he said that, his answer was almost laughable. He said, “103 is a good score for me.” He’s been known to fudge his score like this before.
So, my question is, what do I do here? If this continues, and he actually does it in a match, what appears next to his name on the scoreboard will not be a number. It’ll be a DQ.
Following the Club Championship experience, I decided to ease off considerably. Golf really wasn't enjoyable. Too much time stomping around the "natural area" looking for another slice or pull. Even just the business of counting up the strokes, penalties and lost balls was mind-numbing. There just really wasn't a point. So after that July Sunday, it was time for a change.
First, came two weeks off with no rounds or visits to the range.
Then, I visited the range on a particular Thursday and started to think about the way I used to hit the ball instead of the way I had been trying over the last year and a half. The results weren't immediately very good, but I didn't care.
Finally, I played nine holes with my new crew at Miami Shores. Didn't count a single stroke. Hit a few good shots and a few bad. Picked up on the 7th. But had a pleasant time anyway.
That's sort of been the routine as many weeks as not. Nine holes as often as 18. Playing not for score, but to try to hit a few solid shots and toy around with my swing. It's getting a bit better I think. I'm back to lining up the ball on my toe like I used to before those disastrous lessons I took. Trying to quiet the hands and get that weight on the front foot. Clobbered the 1W 250 (good for me anyway) on the last two holes Saturday and got a birdie on No. 8 (not that I was counting).
Needless to say, I haven't posted for handicap since the CC. Then again, it really doesn't matter. There are no competitions at Miami Shores for people like me, so why worry about it.
Figure I'll stay here at Shores anyhow. It's close and inexpensive and I got my weekend group to play with. Maybe next year I'll break out the card and pencil again. Maybe, I won't. But this will do for now.
This somewhat continues a blog posting from 2016. If anyone is interested (Anyone?... Anyone?... Bueller), here is a link: https://thesandtrap.com/blogs/entry/91-the-end-to-sand-bagging/
Fast forward 4+ years and I now occupy the highly sought-after position of Handicap Chairman. We modified the Knuth Tournament Point System for our club. Members accumulate points over the course of the season but, rather than roll the points over to the next year, we start fresh. One of the biggest drawbacks with a “rolling 2-year” computation was the recordkeeping involved.
We also moved to a “Competition Only” handicap for our members. We develop a handicap index based solely on “C” (formerly “T”) scores. Players continue to post all their scores to GHIN to maintain their GHIN index. We pull the “C” scores out and calculate an index using the WHS calculation but with just their “C” scores. An excel spreadsheet makes this process fairly easy.
The move to a “Competition Only” index has largely solved the issue of sandbagging. Over the course of a season, few members are successful enough to “earn” a Knuth handicap reduction. After 9 tournaments in 2020, three members currently have reductions of 2-3 strokes. Most of our member’s GHIN indexes closely mirror their “C-only” indexes we use in our tournaments. Only one member has won their Flight more than a single time. The exception, surprisingly, has won 3 times in 5 tournaments. That success has earned him 9 Knuth points and a 3-stroke reduction going forward. When I gave him the news, he was not pleased. Here is an excerpt from his response:
“… In using this system, it is not making (our tournaments) fair or equitable. It is like anybody who plays should get a ribbon because they participated, make all feel good, nobody loses, SOCIALISM.”
I tied to talk to him at the next tournament but he did not want to discuss his situation. If he had stopped a moment, he might have realized the entire system of handicapping is a bit of “socialism”. He clearly would not fare too well even-up with his 10-handicap game against our scratch members. The handicap system is designed to make it possible for everyone to have a chance at getting a ribbon, as he put it, but it does not guarantee a ribbon.
Still, he does somewhat have a point about our club’s efforts at leveling the playing field. By using a “Competition Only” index, eventually even the worst choker will see his index rise sufficiently to make him competitive. Why practice and try to become better when eventually poor play will result in a competitive index?
For example, “Rob” is a tall, strong individual. He has a good swing and is capable of hitting the ball a long way, relatively straight. Still, he seems to be a bit of a vanity handicapper. A couple years ago he was playing in our “A” Flight (unsuccessfully). While his current GHIN index is 7.1, his scores from his last 8 tournaments are: 89, 83, 88, 87, 93, 100, 92, 92. The 83 resulted in a differential of 10.2 so the balance of the differentials are higher. His “C-Only” index is 11.8. Currently “Rob” is playing in our C Flight with guys sporting indexes of 11.0-15.0. It is just a matter of time before “Rob” gets his “ribbon.” In our efforts to weed out potential sandbaggers, we have promoted the also ran’s into contenders.
I am not going to lose any sleep over this situation. After the season’s end, the Board can decide whether any changes are warranted. I somewhat like the idea of using the lower of the GHIN and “C-Only” indexes. If someone wants to have a low GHIN index, let him compete with it.
Today I decided to go to the local Golf Super Duper Store to try out a 3 wood that caught my eye. As the product expert sets up my request, I take a few practice swings with my own club. The lighting is not great, its hard to see if my club face is square, and I hit about the 3 worst balls in my life warming up. I was hemorrhaging on the astroturf as someone's grandfather just stood behind me wondering why the hell I asked to try the tour model. Then, on the 5th ball, I finally hit the ball down the middle with a quiet draw to roll out at 245. Feeling some redemption I hit 2 more on a similar note, put the club down, and walked slowly to the end of the hitting bay.
On to the first victim, I mean club. Snap, push, skank, slop, and then a gorgeous draw on the line 245 with identical numbers from my 3 wood. I hit 2 more and then the guy says, "I don't know what you are looking for but that Diablo Octane Tour you brought in put up identical numbers. It's got a heavy stock shaft that feels like it was tipped". Then he says, "Henrick Stenson would still be playing this club if he had his way". OK, I get it, don't fool with what isn't broken.
At this point I am feeling frisky so I ask to hit a driver model that has the newest and greatest shaft ever in it. In fact I may have just ordered that shaft and its coming Wednesday. Well the store is having an issue in getting inventory so he sets up what he can find and hands me an adjustable game improvement club set to 8.5. Low snap, low push, and then as he steps away I open the face for more loft and I hit it. I mean on the screws coming down on the center line and I stop right there. I mean why even chance it by hitting another ball? So he comes back and says that looks pretty good. He tells me to come back when they get their inventory in and I thank him for his time.
Now I don't know why it took so long to hit a decent ball because that did not happen when I demoed my irons. I can only think that the thrill of the long club, coupled with the instant gratification of seeing the numbers, only intensified my out of body experience. So yeah, once I swung it like I do in real life I was rewarded with my mere mortal numbers, but nothing fear inspiring like you see on the commercials.
All in all, the trip was not a total fool's errand as I happened to find some shorts on sale. Like modern drivers they were bigger than the ones of yesterday. While I blame Covid on that I can only think that 25 years in the same size was a pretty good run.
Just walked 18. The pace was perfect. 4 hours to walk. I was worried I would hold people up, but my group was walking, and so were the people behind us. Really worked out well. Being able to walk is a total game changer. 5 mile walk makes it feel like less of a huge waste of time, LOL. I am of the old school of thought. Proper golfers don't use those silly toy carts. Carrying my bag for 18 started to get uncomfortable on my shoulder, and a bit clumsy, so I will invest in a push cart.
As for the round, it was a good one. I was driving straight most of the day. Possibly the best driver day of my life (I never hit driver during my 20s) I lined the driver up 2-3 inches behind the ball, to catch the ball on the upswing, and I finally got some loft on the drives. They don't go far, but many were straight. Had a few pure irons that felt great, but overall, I am hitting irons thin, and not really taking the right divot.
Shot of the day? I holed out a sand shot. Open stance, back foot, 2" of damp sand. One bounce and plop, into the hole.
Worst hole was +2, so that's good. I feel my misses are getting lucky. Thin iron still stays straight and in fairway. Only hit one trouble shot from under trees today.
Title. Seriously. Every day I talk to people who underplay COVID-19 by comparing it to the flu. Just today I spoke with someone who told me, "Tens of thousands of people die from the flu each year, we don't shut anything down for that!" Well you know what? It's not the flu. The flu is something we understand and have historical data for. This is new. A severe flu season has a death rate of 0.17% (something like 80,000 flu-related deaths in 48 million cases). As of today, 6,501 people died out of 169,374 confirmed cases, for a death rate of 3.8%. Even if somehow only one in ten people with COVID-19 are tested and confirmed to have it, it would still be twice as deadly as the flu.
The flu also has a shorter incubation period, with symptoms typically presenting after two to four days. An individual infected with COVID-19 may not present symptoms up to 14 days after infection. That's a possible two weeks for a seemingly healthy individual to go about their daily lives, spreading the disease.
I mentioned that it's new, right? Anyone who has had the flu before will have some natural immunity to similar strands in the future. But, viruses mutate. It's not perfect, but it's something. We have no pre-existing immunity to COVID-19, which potentially makes every single person in the world vulnerable to infection.
Quarantines, school closures, and other changes to our daily lives have inconvenienced us. I get it. But this is about so much more than not being able to watch your favorite sports team compete, or your vacation plans being cancelled. It's not about politics or mass media hysteria. This is a real disease with a serious negative impact to the world and we (Americans) have the opportunity to do something about it before it gets out of hand and we end up like China or Italy.
Sorry, had to get that off my chest. I'll burn this f***ing soapbox now.
After working out today I remembered this blog and decided to post an update.
My goal remains the same, get down to 190.
Today was the first time in months that I did a proper workout. I took it easy because injury will just delay progress. Right now I’m building up my stamina and strength again.
Today’s workout - Ran / Walked for 30 minutes to warm up. Did two circuits of squats, pushups, shoulder raises, and planks.
Thoughts - I’m glad I pushed through for a 2nd run circuit in my warm up. The first run iteration was tough.
Going forward - I want to post once a week with an update.
Nutrition Goals - lots of veggies, good proteins, good fats, limit dairy and processed carbs. Fast 14-16 hours a day.
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Played yesterday in the WA Assistant's Championship at Fircrest GC. Weather ended up being perfect despite the tendency this time of year to rain. I ended up shooting even par 71 and T-4th.
The round started off interesting, with a duck hook drive into the woods left. I punched it out to 100yds and stuck the 3rd to 8ft which I made to save par. My irons overall were good. The tough part about this time of year is getting distance dialed in as the air starts to cool, so needless to say I was leaving a few shots short. Not a lot short but enough to annoy. Wedges were in the same boat, good enough but left a few short of where I wanted. Driver started out rough, but I found the click halfway through the round. I needed to feel like I was sitting back towards my heels a little at address. Unfortunately, one wayward tee shot did lead to a double bogey. That hole started with the bad drive, but I punched out and left myself about 45yds for my 3rd. I left that on the green but 20ft for par. Missed that and the following 4 footer. That 20ft putt was the last time that I hit a putt by the hole that round 🙄 The 4ft putt was stupid, I got lazy and lifted. Once I found my driver swing, I was hitting the ball great tee to green, but like I mentioned, I left all birdie putts short.
Overall, I birdied 2 par 5's and 1 par 4. The par 4, I stuck my 52 to a foot, thought it had a good chance of going in. I also had that double bogey and a 3 putt bogey late in the round.
I played with 2 other guys, both of whom are multiple-time winners in our chapter. One of them ended up winning with a 68 and the other shot 73. Comparing our play styles, I'm right with them tee to green. But short game, they are super sticky. Leave them a chip or pitch within 30yds and they are within 5ft almost every time. I lost a couple shots from not chipping/pitching my ball close. I knew it's been something for me to work on, but it was good to see where I need to be at.
This was the last real tournament for me this season. Having my kid this summer made it difficult to play in any big events, as expected, but next year I'll be in a few more I hope.
It seems like this past year or so I'm always having neck or shoulder problems. Just a few months ago, I was dealing with a scapula or trapezius injury on my right side that shut down my workouts for almost a month. Now I have a minor injury on my left side from last week. I felt a tweak in my neck on a swing when it happened but didn't think anything of it because that kind of happens once in a while, but there's a tightness there I haven't been able to shake and a noticeable weakness when I'm doing something like pullups. It doesn't hurt, but it's not 100%.
I also jammed my right wrist on a fat shot yesterday and it hurt to extend my wrist (there was even discomfort just putting). Couldn't put any weight on it last night. That seems to have gone away this morning. I'm going out to play later and see how it feels. Probably going to shut down the upper body workouts for a week though and just do core and leg stuff.
I've been doing a 90-day workout program since January, but due to one injury or another, I'm constantly starting it over. I think I've restarted four times now. I've never finished the entire program, but I'm also kind of bored of it, too. I decided to switch to a calisthenics program that will make things interesting again once I heal a bit from the most recent injury. There are a lot of pulling and scapula strength exercises in that program that I'm hoping will strengthen the problem areas for me to prevent injuries in the future. That and some of the holds seem really cool to learn to do. And handstands 😃
It's been a different kind of year for me, in regards to golf. Just about a year ago... I found out that the job I'd had for over 7 years was going away. With it... a decent salary and a very, very flexible schedule would be going away too. Luckily, I had made a great friend through golf who immediately offered me an opportunity. It was going to come with a steep learning curve and, early on... a sizable decrease in pay... but it was a job.
With those changes came some choices. I decided to leave the club I was a member at... dedicate more time to work... and life was just going to be different than it had been. Golf, which is about the only 'activity' I get out for, has taken a back seat. With less playing time and less practice time, it means in increase in my scores when I do get to play. Gone are the rounds in the low 80's which could creep into the high 70's if it all came together. Instead, the scores hover around the mid 90's with the random score in the 80's on a day when I don't chunk 50% of my short game shots.
Still... I knew that the second half of the year would be better for my golf game. I have plans to play both the the Champions and the Stadium Courses at TPC Scottsdale in September. There's a 3 round tournament in Hilton Head during the middle part of October. There's some tournaments in August that I'm looking forward to, as well. All that aside... the big thing is that we're planning to join a club again in the coming months. No more battling for tee times on public courses. No more 'surprises' on the public courses where half of the fairways are gone. I'll be back in a comfortable spot with a solid practice area and availability to get out and practice various aspects of my game on the course... and hopefully that means the return of my scores where they were at this time last year.
Anyway... all that aside, I have been patient and optimistic. The Thursday before Father's Day, I was surprised by my wife when she told me to pack my clubs, my shoes and some clothes. We were headed down to Hilton Head (which is quickly becoming my second favorite place on Earth) for the weekend to play golf! She told me that she had made a tee time for Sunday morning. When I asked where, she told me we would be playing Harbour Town on Sunday morning! She knew it was on my list... and she wanted to give me an experience. Although she's very new to golf (maybe 10 rounds under her belt)... she wanted to play too, but we were concerned that it was going to be too much for her to handle there since the caddies were going to press the pace. After some discussion, she said she'd just ride along instead and enjoy the course and seeing me play.
To make up for it, I contacted Palmetto Dunes and asked if we could get out on the Jones Course at some point Saturday afternoon. I explained that we'd have our daughters (12 & 13) with us... but that they'd just want to ride along. The woman I was dealing with replied and said she had reached out to the director of golf there and he would provide us a four-seater cart and not charge us any riding fees for the girls. We got a great rate... booked a 2:15pm tee time... and were ready for a great time!
I was a little nervous because I hadn't played in a month leading up to that weekend... and when I had played, my scores were pretty rough. I was looking at Saturday as a way to kind of 'warm up' for Harbour Town. Everything I had heard from friends who played it... the course was tight and scores could get out of hand in a hurry if I wasn't careful.
The Saturday round was peaceful and relaxing. I didn't play well, but I enjoyed spending the time on the course with my wife and girls. The scenery was as perfect as I described it to my wife. She was excited to play the 10th hole and see the ocean from the green... and she was just generally excited to be playing and seeing exactly what I'd been saying to her about golf on Hilton Head. It's just better, in my opinion. I love the layouts. I love the Spanish moss hanging from the trees. I love the gators in the ponds. It's just special to play there.
On Sunday morning... it was time to head to Harbour Town. The girls stayed in the hotel while my wife and I headed across the island to Sea Pines. My tee time was 7:39am that morning and I was in the first group off. We arrived a little later than planned so I was a little rushed once we got to the course, but we were surprised when the attendant in the shop said he wasn't going to charge my wife the rider fee of $50 because the course was going to be slow and they had plenty of carts. After my wife spent some time looking around in the pro-shop... I headed over to the range to hit a few balls. After about 10 swings... I realized it was already 7:30 and I needed to get my stuff together and head to the first tee.
As I approached the first tee... our caddie for the day was there waiting for us. Randy had been a caddie at Harbour Town for about 7 years and was a 2.0 index from the blue tees at the course. While Randy and I were talking, the rest of our group showed up. It was a father and his 2 adult sons who had surprised him with this round for Father's Day as well. After some brief discussion, it was decided that my 13.0 handicap would best be suited for the white tees (6253 yards... 71.4 rating... 136 slope).
I was given the honor... Randy retreated up the fairway to keep an eye on shots... and away we went. What follows is a hole-by-hole recap. I wouldn't be upset if you skipped past this now... but for my own selfish reasons... I'm gonna post it all.
Hole 1 - Par 4 - 380 Yards -- Handicap Hole 11
Tight. That was the word that kept running through my mind all weekend. Standing on the first tee... I could tell that it was true. Randy's instructions were to not miss left... but don't miss right either. At 380 yards... at 7:40 in the morning... at sea level... I didn't have another club to hit. It was driver or bust for me. Luckily, I made a pretty decent swing and the ball trickled just off the fairway on the left side. As I got to my ball... I had about 100 yards to go. I guess they had moved the tees up quite a bit! If I had known that... I would have hit a 4 iron off the tee and left myself an 8 iron or something. Oh well... it worked out in the end. I was told short was better than long... so I took less club and came up a little shy of the green. A decent pitch to 4 feet and a smooth putt and I walked back to the cart to put a par on my card. I wish I had known there was only going to be 1 more of those on the card that day.
Even through 1
Hole 2 - Par 5 - 471 Yards -- Handicap Hole 13
This was not as tight. In fact, it looked pretty open. I took a more aggressive swing with my driver... and although I struck it well, I found myself up the right side, kinda blocked out. I wanted to punch it through the pines on the corner with a 5 iron... but I topped it instead. I was left with about 170 yards from a waste area. Trying to play a fade didn't work out well, and instead... I pushed it and short-sided myself. An okay pitch ran to the far side of the green and I needed 2 putts for a bogey. It could have been worse.
+1 through 2
Hole 3 - Par 4 - 381 Yards -- Handicap Hole 9
"Hit your drive up the right side so you'll have an open look at the green." Okay Randy, thanks for the tip! I pulled my drive low and left. It sat in the rough up the left side. My only shot was to aim at the trap to the right of the green and try to get up & down. I hit my target with an 8 iron... but the ball finished just out of the bunker on a slope with a steep uphill lie. My wedge went completely under the ball and I didn't even get the ball to the green. My putt from the fringe came up 4 feet short and I made that for bogey.
+2 through 3
Hole 4 - Par 3 - 165 Yards -- Handicap Hole 15
On our drive down, my wife asked me if there were any specific holes I was looking forward to on Harbour Town. I told her that I was especially looking forward to 4, 14, 17 and 18. Well... here we were!
What water? The pin was right at about 158 yards from the tees. It should have been a perfect 7 iron. Well... it would have been if I hit it solidly. Instead... I came up well short. I wiped my brow when the ball landed and it was still dry. My pitch from about 25 yards (yeah... I struck that 7 iron wonderfully) ran over the left edge of the cup and finished 7 feet above the hole. Tricky putt coming back. It leaked to the right at the last second and I made a 3rd consecutive bogey.
+3 through 4
Hole 5 - Par 5 - 497 Yards -- Handicap Hole 5
"See those electrical boxes up the right side? Aim for those. They're the perfect starting line. Oh... one last thing. Don't go left. You can't see it, but there's water there." C'mon Randy! Don't let that be the last thing you say to me! I was focused on those electrical boxes. Now... I'm worried about trouble I can't see!
Well... I avoided the water. I started the ball at those electrical boxes... and then it faded off of them and landed in the trees. Dang! I didn't finish my swing. My chip out of the woods with an 8 iron wasn't great... but I was just trying to lay up to about 140 yards or so now, so... easy swing. Whoops! That's not the club face. Drop 4... hitting 5. Topped it. Hit a low cut that finished about 30 yards short of the green.
My wife put her head down and put the camera down too. She was embarrassed. So was I. Oh well... this is gonna be a triple now. Time to regroup. From 30 yards... I hit a low pitch that checked perfectly... tracked the entire way and dropped in for an unlikely double! CRAP! She put the camera away!
Stupid unseen water hazard.
+5 through 5
Hole 6 - Par 4 - 373 Yards -- Handicap Hole 3
"Aim for the last tree up the left side. That's the perfect target for you. It's open here so, driver is a good play." Cool... thanks Randy!
I smashed my drive. Right at that tree. "Oh... that may have run through the waste area into the hazard." Well... at least he didn't tell me about the hazard this time until AFTER I hit it there! I took a drop... and had an angry white-faced hornet coming at me. I had inadvertently parked the cart on it's nest. My wife ran into the fairway. The drink cart lady ran with her. I got to the cart... put it in reverse... backed up about 10 yards... let the hornet back in his home... and then messed up the rest of the hole en route to a triple.
Gators? Snakes? No big deal. Hornets?!? Way to rattle my nerves, Harbour Town!
+8 through 6
Hole 7 - Par 3 - 160 Yards -- Handicap Hole 17
"No real trouble here. Just don't go in the sand that surrounds the entire hole. It's a real tough up & down from there!"
The tees were up a bit... so it was an 8 iron for me. 100%... no doubt. My wife's behind me with her phone taking pictures and/or video. Make this a good swing. Clearly I had too much crap running through my head this day. My swing was okay... the contact was meh... and my 8 iron fell out of the sky 20 yards short and in the bunker. I'll have to look at that swing on the video or pictures she took.
"Oh... I was taking pictures of this little toad on the tee box. I didn't know you were hitting yet."
I didn't want to see it anyway. Splashed out of the bunker... nearly holed out... but it ran by about 6 feet and left me another quick, downhill putt. Nope. Bogey.
+9 through 7
Hole 8 - Par 4 - 405 Yards -- Handicap Hole 1
Wonderful... the most difficult hole on the course and I'm playing my worst golf of the day. "The big tree up the right side is your target. Let it fly."
I did just that. I let it fly right at that big tree with a nice, tight draw. I was through the fairway and had about 145 to the hole, out of the rough. Tired of coming up short... I took an extra club but I flared it out to the right a bit. I was pin high, but off the green. As I got out of the cart, I told my wife I was going to chip in. From behind the green, one of the guys I was playing with chipped in for par just before it was my turn. I clipped the ball perfectly... it checked up just enough and rolled up to about 2 feet before stopping. Close... but not close enough. Tap in for par though!
+9 through 8
Hole 9 - Par 4 - 298 Yards -- Handicap Hole 7
Easily my most frustrating hole of the day. This hole is pretty wide open. Not a ton of trouble. Let it go and leave a little wedge into the green or lay back and take a full short-iron into the green. You choose.
"You're hitting the ball well off the tee. Let it go! Rip it at the clubhouse." Sounds good to me, Randy!
I blistered my drive into the breeze and found the center of the fairway. I left myself about 50 yards to the flag. No real trouble. Just make a nice swing and put it close. The other option is to completely decelerate... chunk it 10 yards and hit the same shot from a little closer. That was the path I elected to follow. Next swing was better but tugged. From 25 feet, I rolled the putt 2 feet past and tapped in for a bogey to close out the front side.
+10 through 9
So... it was pretty much what I was expecting. I figured on a few pars and a hiccup hole or two. Take the 5th and 6th holes out and it was not a bad score for that side. Having now played much... those 50 yard shots that I messed up on the 9th hole are becoming my nemesis, so... I wasn't shocked by that, just annoyed. My putting was decent. I missed a pair of putts that should have gone in. By my count... if I was playing or practicing more consistently, I could have been 4-5 strokes lower, but... it was what it was. I was excited to get to the back nine and see what was in store for me there!
Hole 10 - Par 4 - 398 Yards -- Handicap Hole 12
After a quick stop to use the restroom, wash my hands & face and grab some water... we were on the 10th tee. Randy didn't have much advice on this hole. It was pretty straightforward. Avoid the left side where the water was and you'd be okay.
This is a quick recap for this hole. I put 2 balls in the water... took my maximum score and sat in the cart enjoying the scenery while the rest of the group played the hole.
+13 through 10
Hole 11 - Par 4 - 387 Yards -- Handicap Hole 6
This is another fairly straightforward hole. I made it ugly by yanking my tee shot way left. It went nowhere, fell down in the trees and forced me to punch out. I was kind of aggravated at this point... hit a poor 5 iron heavy and short... pitched on to about 12 feet and two-putted for a double. Not the start to the back nine I was looking for.
+15 through 11
Hole 12 - Par 4 - 376 Yards -- Handicap Hole 8
"Do not try to cut the corner. I've only seen one person cut the corner in all the time I've been here. Jason Day blasted a 4 iron up over the trees. To this day, I don't know how he saw that line and decided to take it but it was the best shot I've seen on this course. Ever."
Okay then, Randy. I hit about as good a shot as I could there. I nice little fade that started up the left side of the fairway and peeled back to the center and bent around the corner of the left-to-right dogleg. I was left with about 130 yards to the pin. Again, I took more club because I'd been coming up short... and again, I pushed it out to the right. I got very aggressive with my chip and it rolled 23 feet beyond the hole and led to a bogey, wasting a perfect tee shot.
I'm definitely not Jason Day.
+16 through 12
Hole 13 - Par 4 - 339 Yards -- Handicap Hole 10
"You cannot be on the left side of this fairway and have any look at the green. Stay out to the right. Less than driver. If you listen to anything I've said today... make it be this. Do not go left."
Oh Randy... you're faith in my ability to control where the ball goes is almost amusing. Less than driver... breeze into my face... no control with my 3 wood. Hybrid it is. I struck it like crap... but it stayed to the right side of the fairway. I landed in the rough right next to a sprinkler head. Good thing because my lie was garbage. After a drop for relief from the sprinkler head... I was left with 155 yards or so to the flag. Here comes Randy...
"Long. Do NOT be short."
Yes sir. Extra club... perfect flight... lands past the flag... and over the back of the green.
"Good. You'll get up & down from there way easier than from that front bunker."
My chip checked in a hurry and stopped 15 feet from the hole. I never gave it a shot and tapped in for a bogey.
+17 through 13
Hole 14 - Par 3 - 148 Yards -- Handicap Hole 18
This is THE hole I was most looking forward to. I'd seen it so many times on TV. I'd played it in video games. I just couldn't wait to get here.
"Don't dunk it." C'mon Randy... you're better than that! Don't do that to me.
The bottom edge of my 9 iron struck the ball firmly in the equator. The ball never got higher than my shin. It screamed over the green into a spot that Randy said he'd never seen anybody ever play from. Well... you're welcome for the memory, Randy.
Dead from where I was... I had to close my eyes because I had twigs from the trees I was under poking at them. I hacked a wedge out of the trees but short of the green. I then chipped to about 5 feet and made that putt for bogey. Certainly could have gone way worse than that, but... I wanted a par at that hole.
+18 through 14
Hole 15 - Par 5 - 541 Yards -- Handicap Hole 4
Last par 5 of the day. Gotta make it a good one. Swing hard! Wait... scratch that... that's a bad idea.
I did it anyway... and pulled it into the trees again. Punch out... attempt to hit a low, swooping draw that hangs up in the rough... push an 8 iron way right of the green... flub the pitch... blade the next one over the green... chip to 6 feet... one hand it in for a triple.
That's my blueprint for most par 5 holes anyway.
+21 through 15
Hole 16 - Par 4 - 361 Yards -- Handicap Hole 14
"The tree straight ahead is in the middle of the fairway. There's room to either side of it. Left of it brings the bunker into play. Right of it just makes the approach slightly longer, but it's a short hole."
See... THIS is the type of information I'd love to have had throughout the day, Randy! Tell me what my target is. Inform me what my options are and the risks and/or rewards to each option... then let me choose.
I hit a poor driver at the tree that faded just to the right and went into the rough, but I was left with 145 yards or so to the green with nothing in the way. Simple game! My 8 iron hit the green (although it was 50 feet from the hole) and I finally had my first (and only) green in regulation on the day. An awful putt left me 7 feet and I missed that for my only three-putt of the day. Bogey. Dang!
+22 through 16
Hole 17 - Par 3 - 159 Yards -- Handicap Hole 16
Wow. Just... wow. I've played a lot of golf holes. I've played in the mountains... at the beach... in the Caribbean. Without a doubt, this is the prettiest hole I've played so far. It was a gorgeous day... blue skies with a few clouds. The view was just spectacular. The struggle throughout the round was worth this view. The $300+ greens fee was worth this view. Everything was perfect here.
I was too distracted to care that I flared another 7 iron short and right of the green. My pitch checked up quickly again and I needed 2 putts from 18 feet for another bogey.
I didn't care. What a golf hole.
+23 through 17
Hole 18 - Par 4 - 414 Yards -- Handicap Hole 2
This hole is the one every golfer knows. Calibogue Sound all along the left side of the hole. The iconic light house in the distance beyond the green. The reeds between the tee and the fairway... and then again between the fairway and the green. The mile-wide fairway. It was picture time. Randy took photos for everybody on the tee and then said he'd do the same on the green when we finished up.
"It's a little down wind. The fairway is there. Just... hit it."
Indeed. My final drive of the day was my best drive of the day. I couldn't find trouble unless I hit the ball 50+ yards offline in either direction. Swing away! Right down the middle. Second longest drive of the day. I smiled... picked up my tee... breathed a sigh of relief... and hugged my wife for giving me this opportunity.
Once to the ball, I still had 182 to the hole. All carry over the reeds. I hadn't missed an iron shot left all day so the water wasn't in play. Start the ball at the flag... let it peel off to the right. Tons of room over that way. Easy 5 iron... and I pull hooked it into Calibogue Sound. I dropped where I crossed... hit a wedge to about 13 feet... left the bogey putt short and tapped in to finish out my day.
+25 through 18
After we had all finished up and looked back down the fairway... it was again time for pictures. The dad and his sons in front of the lighthouse. Then my wife and I with the lighthouse in the background and the Harbour Town flag flapping in the breeze. All this in a few minutes over 4 hours.
It was awesome. I played like garbage... but I didn't care. I was just happy to have had the experience. My wife went above and beyond to get me there. I knew I'd play there eventually... but to have it happen unexpectedly made it all even more memorable.
As far as single rounds go... it was the most money I'd ever played for one round. It was worth every penny. Randy was awesome. Great stories throughout. Laughed with us (and at us when we hit poor shots). He talked a little smack... told us about himself... inquired about our lives... and overall, just added an extra fun element to the round. It was like having a golfing buddy there as a caddie.
My wife took a bunch of pictures throughout the round. She and I laughed together about my bad shots (and there were plenty). We took in the scenery. We enjoyed the jokes in the group and had a good time.
After the round, I went into the locker room to clean up a little. It was also amazing. In addition to the lockers and typical showers... there was an entire lounge upstairs with a phenomenal view. Down in the pro-shop, my wife bought me a polo and she bough herself a travel mug to add to her collection. We headed out... collected the girls from the hotel... went back to Sea Pines to walk around a bit and then took the 4 hour drive back home.
Where The Ocean Course at Kiawah was a 10 round fight for me... Harbour Town was like a Sunday drive.
The rumors are true. It's a tight course... but if you've got control of your ball, it's not that bad. The rough isn't overly thick (supposedly because they want you further penalized by rolling through the rough and into the trees & waste areas). The greens are as small as they claim. I wasn't playing well, but I hit only 1 green in regulation. I average about 6-7 when I play.
I'm looking forward to going back when my game is a little sharper. Until the next one...
Hello again, I haven't written one of these blogs in a long while. I haven't really been on the site for a long while. I had been practicing and posting every day for 405 days, That streak came to an end on May 10, 2018, when I went into the hospital. The last 11 months I have been going through things outside of golf, that are more important for my growth as a human being. Golf is my getaway, my therapy, my distraction, and my hobby.
I love the game, it sometimes doesn't love me back when I'm playing it. Whether I'm hitting a 9-iron at the second that checks up too soon or I lip out that 4-footer on 18 for a 71, Golf is hard (R). I've decided that I really don't care that it's hard, I've decided that I just want to go out and relax and have fun playing the game. In the city championship last Labor Day weekend, I made the flight finals for the first time. I've played in that tournament every year since 2010, I lost 7 & 5 (ironically I played the same guy in the finals this year as I did in my first ever match), 2011 4 & 3, 2012 I was really sick Sunday and had to W/D, 2013, I lost 1 up, 2014 I lost 2 & 1 2015 I finally won a match 3 & 2 (It helped that I was out-driving my opponent by 70 yards), then lost 7 and 5, 2016 I lost 1 up, 2017 I made the semis and lost 3 and 2, Last year I hilariously won the 12th hole of my first match with a triple-bogey 8, to go 1 up in the match. Whilst laughing about it on the way to the 13th. I proceeded to play the next three holes, par, par, birdie to win 4 & 3. In the semifinals, I was 1 down after 6, (I started terribly was something like 4 over through 6 medal), I chipped in for birdie at 7, made par at 8, made birdie at 9 after hitting a terrible drive (I knocked the third shot to 4 feet), made bogey at 10, nearly made 1 at 11 (ended up making 3 I missed a 5 footer that was already conceded), and birdied 12. I went from 1 down, to 5 up in 6 holes, I put the match away with a par on 13 and won 6 & 5. (yes I won 10 with a bogey, my opponent had trouble with the right side trees, the only reason I made 6 was I took 3 to get down from 5 feet off the front of the green) I played the last 7 holes in 2-under and didn't even know I was playing that well until someone told me after my match ended.
I was playing well but got tanked in the final 7 & 6. I did not play badly. I won just 2 holes, the 2nd and the 11th, however, that being said, I was losing holes to pars and birdies, I made only one double-bogey and that was on the 7th which is a par-3 (It was a good 5 too, I pushed a 7-iron into Fall Creek which is Oscar Bravo, and made 3 with the second ball, nearly holing a 15-footer to halve the hole. I think he shot 1 or 2 over, I shot 8 or 9 over and we halved #9 with birdies, which was a funny exchange, because he chipped in from just short of the green and I holed about a 30-footer on top of him. It was very different finishing second in my flight instead of last or T-3 twice. Going into the tournament, I decided that I was going to go out and just have fun, and whatever happened so be it.
Over the winter I didn't do much practicing, as a matter of fact, very little. If you've seen my signature, I have different clubs in play right now but still have my Exotics bag. Actually might actually switch to Maltby from GolfWorks for the time being. I don't necessarily need the best and greatest new clubs.
Becky and I separated for 5 months between October and March and we have since reconciled. Without getting to personal, one of our goals we came up with, was to try to do a hobby together. She tried golf a couple times with me, (she actually witnessed me birdie both par-fives on the front which I seldom do), but we decided we were going to either bowl or try disc golf. Come to find out disc golf is very inexpensive to get started in. I'm still trying to figure out the rules, but I'll get it. It's fun, it takes less time than real golf and is just as tricky. I was talking to one of our regulars at the golf course about it just yesterday, we're making predictions on which one I break par in first, disc golf or traditional golf.
I've played 9 holes twice this year so far. The first time out I really didn't putt so I couldn't count it, but I estimate, I shot probably 39 or 40 on the front (or white tees, Newman is 9 holes with 2 sets of tees). Yesterday I shot 38, with one of the scratch players playing skins and they we're surprised. I didn't make any birdies but my par with a half-whack on 18 was good enough for $15, and my scratch partner and I cleaned up in the side match too. for my two bogeys, I lipped out on 11 after a decent bunker shot, and I was short sided and laid-up my chip to 15 feet on 14, and singed the edge, the rest we're all pars. I covered his double on 10 and his bogey on 18 (he birdied 12, 14, and 17 to shoot 36) so we were 3-under as a best ball team.
I'm playing well, I have a very simple pre-shot routine with one swing-thought, right foot, left foot. My balance is a lot better, I actually finally figured out where the "balls of the feet" are. The step-through is now gone, my balance is back, and hopefully with any luck at all, I might get down into the 4.x by the end of the season, it'll be difficult, but I think with my new approach I can do it.
I'll give you guys an update this time in May on how my game is doing to see if I've improved.
For those of you who are wondering, Alina shot 49 for 9 holes last week (She's 5 1/2). She went with me and I really didn't play, She did. Mike told me. "Be careful, out there" She striped he drive from the actual ladies tee on #1 over the bunker, (She carries it about 125 yards now, and she is deadly with her hybrid (She has one of those now as she outgrew her other set). I played a little (I only brought a few clubs to pitch, chip and putt with so I had my 9-iron, wedges and putter with me. She actually beat me on #7, She made par and I made bogey and I didn't let her win the hole I legitimately did make bogey. When she parred 7, I knew she had a shot to break 50. This group of ladies was behind Alina and I, and they usually would be a little snotty about a twosome in front playing slow (we weren't Alina plays nine in 1:45). Saw Alina, par the 7th. To par she was +10 through 7. (She made 9 on #1) She piped a drive and hit 2 hybrids on the green at #8 and almost made par, tapped in for bogey, She hit a perfect drive on 9 and I let Alina make this decision herself, she grabbed her driver for her second shot (She got it just short of 250 out, off a 140 yard bullet), I think she thought she needed birdie to break 50, but she only needed a 7 (I don't tell Alina her cumulative scores, I tell her at the end) She topped one down there about 50 yards just short of 200, she then hits hybrid, hybrid on the front of the green (pin was all the way back) And three-putted for double... But that was all she needed for her first sub-50 9-holes. One of the ladies behind us, came up and asked me what she'd shot, I said "49 and she started with a 9." Alina plays the par-3s well at Newman from the ladies tees mainly because, well, it's just a driver for her.
I talked to a local pro recently about maybe getting her a fuller set, and he advised against it for now, as her game develops and when she gets older then we can revisit that then. Not bad for a kid that plays 3 or 4 9-hole rounds a year at this point. But asks me to go hit golf balls all the time. She stripes it and I mean stripes it.
We're in that special hell of rules controversies with the implementation of the new Rules of Golf. There have been some growing pains with the new rules, and that has allowed the golf media to tee off on its favorite target, the USGA. Which, to be fair, can make itself an easy target:Quote
“From my perspective, I would say by and large they’ve been a huge success,” Davis said.
That aside, I wanted to talk about the "controversy" about the knee-height drop that the Rules now require. Rickie Fowler got a one stroke penalty for dropping from shoulder height this past weekend. Cue the complaining from him:Quote
“I think, with the new rules that have been put in place, it’s not doing any favors for our sport. I think it will definitely be changed,” he said. “We have been making fun of the knee drop for so long that it was ingrained the first time I took a drop this year. Like, ‘This is an iconic moment. I get to drop from my knee and look stupid.’ So, no, like I said, it was on me, but I think it’s a terrible change.”
I can forgive him - he just had a brain fart, probably didn't gain an advantage in this situation, it cost him money. I'm always annoyed when I get a penalty, personally, and it's absolutely never my fault, okay?
But cue the pearl clutching from the media:Quote
3. Rickie Fowler was the first high-profile player to be dinged for the new drop rule when he hit a shot OB in Mexico and then dropped from shoulder height — only to be penalized an additional stroke because he didn’t drop from the new knee-height level. Fowler described the new rule as a “terrible change,” echoing the sentiments of several others pros who have spoken about the new dropping procedure. Should pros just quit their moaning and adapt, or do they have a point here?
Dethier: Yeah, this one’s dumb. There was no real need for the knee-height thing in the first place, but if the goal is for more lenient rules, let’s make it a strike zone, knee-high and up. Then we’d be able to stop talking about it.
Sens: I don’t mind knee-height as the low bar, and none of this stuff is all that tough to understand. But Dylan’s right. Penalizing for a higher drop is beyond ridiculous.
Ritter: Oh, pros are free to moan away. Their livelihoods depend on these rules. Many of the new rules are simpler and a clear improvement. The knee-high drop is a miss, though.
Bamberger: It looks ridiculous, just as dropping blind and over the shoulder looked ridiculous. The rule should be amended, knee-height to shoulder height.
I'm here to tell you that this is wrong, and knee-height drops actually make a ton of sense.
One of the best things the new Rules do is simplify dropping. Now, all you have to do when dropping is land the ball in the relief area (without touching you or your equipment before hitting the ground) and ensure the ball comes to rest in the relief area. If you don't do this, you have to redrop. Pretty simple. Yes, you have to figure out what your relief area is, but that's pretty simple, too. (For a fuller explanation of this, see Rule 14 and the definitions in the Rules of Golf.)
The old rules were much more complex. Specifically, if your ball rolled to one of 9 areas after you dropped it, you had to redrop. For example, if your ball rolled more than 2 club lengths away from where your ball hit the ground, you had to redrop. You had to know all of these 9 areas to know if you needed to redrop or not.
So, the new way is simpler, right? Instead of learning 9 different triggers for a redrop, you only have to learn 1. Great!
Why am I talking about when you have to redrop? This is why we're dropping from knee height. Generally, under the new Rules, your ball cannot go as far after hitting the ground as it used to without triggering a redrop. Dropping from knee height reduces the chance that a redrop will be necessary. It also means that a ball has less of a chance of embedding in sand when you drop it. It makes a ton of sense, really.
Now, you might say, that's all fine, but why not allow dropping a ball from anywhere above knee height? I think you could easily game the rules to be able to place the ball when you really want to by simply dropping from shoulder height instead of knee height. Think about dropping on a side slope, for example. You're much more likely to have to redrop and place if you drop the ball from a higher point. Sure, this is rare, but why take the chance?
We're all on the same page, right? Knee-height drops make a lot of sense.
(If you want to know more about the changes to dropping, this is an excellent article that talks about this in a bit more detail: https://rulesgeeks.com/2018/12/30-days-of-2019-rules-changes-day-16-procedure-for-dropping-a-ball-in-playing-it-from-a-relief-area/)
Now to the point of all of this: golf media, please take 5 minutes to understand the rule before issuing a HAWT TAKE about the rule. The USGA has a one page sheet that explains the rule: http://www.usga.org/content/usga/home-page/rules-hub/rules-modernization/major-changes/new-procedure-for-dropping-a-ball.html. You don't come off very well when you fail to read that. I know it's fun and easy to just mindlessly bash the USGA, but they do get things right. This is one of them.
(Oh and by the way, the Rules are actually really good, as a whole. Maybe I'll talk about that in another post later.)
I finally got around to playing 18 holes of golf with only 4 clubs this morning - something I've wanted to do since early in the season. My goal was to keep the score to within 5 of my average. The 4 hybrid and 9i were shoo-ins. The 4h because I seem to hit it well, and the 9i because I can use for a short bump-and-run all the way up to a 130 yard full swing. I then had to decide on two more. I decided to bench my gap wedge, which is the go-to club from 100 yards and in, and go with the sand wedge instead. The reason being too much roll on short sided flag locations seem to be costing me strokes. Perhaps forcing myself to use a more lofted wedge would be beneficial.
Last, I decided to go with the putter and disregard @boogielicious' advice to learn to putt with a wedge instead. This would have allowed another option for the full swing. I have to admit there was little chance the putter would be left behind. It's not that I'm at all good with the putter, but it's used from off the green a lot and it's better than trying to putt with any other club. That would turn out to be far from the truth.
The first 9
The first two holes were pretty typical, a couple of bogeys that resulted from less than perfect tee shots. Still, I felt pretty good about how the round was going. Then came the par 5 3rd.
Two beautiful 4-hybrid shots left me with a short approach of around 90 yards. Time to test the SW on a shot I'd have used the GW for all-day-long. Good contact, high, and right at the flag, 2 putt for par.
Nice, I thought. Not a bad start and everything felt good. Next up were three par 4's in a row followed by a par 5. The hybrid felt really good off the tee and whenever I needed less than a full swing, the club responded very well as did the SW and the 9i. I would hit GIR's on those next four holes. My full swing and partial swings were golden.
But the golf gods giveth and they taketh.
The first par 4 had a pin location to the front of a very fast downhill green and my partial hybrid approach had found the back. To be honest, I was ok with the 3-putt bogey in this situation. Besides, the way I was striking the ball, I'd make up for it with subsequent pars.
The pin location on the next par 4 was uphill with my SW approach landing about 25 feet below. The lag putt can only be politely described as wimpy. It wasn't a poor read, or a bad bead, I just didn't get anywhere near the speed I knew was needed to get it close. 3-putt number 2.
Despite temps in the 30's, I was starting to get warm under the collar. It was hard to enjoy one of my best ball striking rounds when I couldn't close the deal. But c'mon, that was only two holes. Surely the putting would get back on track.
The next par 4 included a beautiful partial hybrid, a flighted 9 iron below the pin... and three more putts including a miss from 18".
In all fairness, I shouldn't have hit the green on the next par 5. The 4h approach to the green started a bit right, but a tree branch deflected it to the green. There was no way the golf gods were going to let this bit of luck remain unpunished. Hence, a nice 4-putt and my first double of the day.
The second 9
Instead of describing each of the next 9 holes, I'll only say that the golf gods had a hard-on for me today. Sure, they'd allowed decent putting this second time through the 9 hole course, but as if to say "you didn't think we were just going to give good putting back to you" they made sure to take away the good ball striking. The hole where I got my only par on first 9 resulted in a 10 the second time through. The comedy of errors leading to that wonderful score included playing bloody knuckles (literally) with two oak trees when I tried to punch out an errant 4 hybrid shot from between them.
Eat $#!^ and die, golf gods!
As for the four-club "challenge", it should have been more fun than it was, but that's on me. There were positives...
• My goal was to keep the score within 5 of my average and I kept it to within 1.
• I not only hit the ball solidly on most shots, I was able to adjust and control distance, and even shape a couple of shots.
• In many situations, the SW is a better club than the GW around the green.
• The 7 GIRs is the highest I've had in some time - and there were several nGIR as well.
• The round didn't cause me to putt more poorly than usual, the GIRs only exposed my poor putting. High GIR = more putts unless you're good at both.
This round also backed up what I believe to be true. Using a safer, shorter club off the tee doesn't guarantee a better score for everyone. I hit 71% of my fairways today, did not get any penalties, and still failed to break 95.
Instead of leaving the driver at home, maybe I should become as skilled with that club as I am with the 4 hybrid.
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I wanted to put together a series of golf tips and strategies to help the Average Joe better enjoy this crazy game we all love. A large part of this blog is going to be short tips like "How to Get Rid of Shanks" or "Stop Picking Your Head Up," but occasionally I will write some longer articles as well.
So to kick off this series, here's a tip that helps keep your score down that even I sometimes forget: don't take penalties. Generally speaking, penalties are strokes that inflate your score without helping you score any better. I know it may seem tempting to hit a big drive OOB and get another shot at it, but you're almost always better off just hitting a good shot the first time. The same goes for water hazards - stay out of them, no matter how dirty your ball may have gotten over the course of a round. Chances are, you're not going to be able to retrieve your newly washed ball anyway. Save yourself some extra strokes and wash your ball at the ball washer which many courses have at the tee box. Your scorecard and your wallet with thank you later.
That's my first tip, hopefully of many. Any comments or questions, please leave them below. And if you liked this post, please give it a thumbs up and subscribe.
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Although my injury really didn't completely stop me from golfing, it caused me to be apprehensive with my swing. However, tomorrow's surgery will leave me in a cast for a week and a brace for at least 8 weeks or maybe more. This surgery is going to be a test of my fortitude. I don't know if I will be able to work, I know I can't lift weights, drive a stick or golf for 3 months. We shall see if I survive. It sucks to be self employed in these circumstances. I will keep you posted...
So today I had another lesson and we worked a ton on alignment, and making sure that my upper body doesn't lean too far away from the target. This causes my centered turn to end up being around my hips and spine, but keeps my chest behind the ball which causes chunks, no matter how far over I slide my hips. Instead, now my hips slide and as a result my chest hangs back but is slightly ahead of the ball giving me clean contact. Not to mention, controlling my starting line is getting much easier. Every once in a while I still get shots that start just left and hook farther left, but overall most of my shots go straight and barely move or just draw a tad.
With my driver, I feel like my right leg is almost extending and my weight is turning around that. Similar to what happens in Justin Thomas's swing. In fact, my 'homework' was to watch JT bomb his driver to get an understanding of proper hip turn while my torso 'hangs back' and my right leg extends.
Oh, and I can hit my 3 wood!
“From what we get, we can make a living; what we give, however, makes a life.” ~ Arthur Ashe
I overheard the golf coach at my daughter's golf camp say that he can get any girl with average golf skills a scholarship to college. But I thought to myself, what about the rest of the aspiring young golfers out there?
So here is my way to help give back -- the first (of hopefully many) golf scholarships for high school/undergraduate students who are on their school's golf team.
The $1,000 scholarship will be awarded to the best golf essay submitted. The golf essay topics may include, but are not limited to:
- How you and your team overcame overwhelming odds
- How your personal journey led you to embrace the sport of golf
- How the game of golf has helped you in your studies or in preparing for your career after school
- How you can personally help grow the game of golf
Plus, all entrants have the option to publish their essays published with links to their social media profiles, providing vital exposure for applicants looking to make a name for themselves in the golf industry.
For more information and to submit essays, please visit the website:
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I am subtitling this: “the Tao of Cipher”
Last week I was able to play my first full round of golf in over two years. It was not pretty, but it was so much fun. I completely chunked about nine shots and I took at least 4 penalties. I had the absolute best time doing so. A co-worker and I took a couple business partners out and it was very rewarding to be able to do that again. All the hard work, patience and time weighing the tough decisions have been to the benefit of playing again without a concern at this point and without any sort of swing alteration to do so. I am incredibly pleased with the result and with being able to play again.
It gives me great joy to know there are many days including yesterday in which my wife will mention the positive change she has seen in me. I don’t want to keep bringing up perspective, because I think it is and has been the least relatable thing in this blog so far based on the reactions and comments. I will just leave this series to be for now with a few final thoughts. This is probably one of the best things that ever happened to me, even if my wrist decides to give out next week. If everything continues to go well don’t be surprised if I play quite a bit less than I did in the past, but also enjoy the game more than I ever have. Don’t be surprised if I do not work on the swing at the same level or someday soon really at all. Don’t be surprised if there are days I would rather go throw a disc into some chains or go fishing with my son and daughter nearly every weekend. Don’t be surprised if I have little to no interest in playing competitive golf. I will however probably try and get the game in shape enough to qualify for and be part of the Newport Cup if I am lucky enough to be chosen. I was looking forward to that the last time and I would like to redeem that missed opportunity. I am most looking forward to meeting some of people I have not met yet from the site and also seeing those again that I have.
Thank you to all who have read this series and have wished me well over these past couple years. If anyone comes across this blog in the search for information on this injury, please reach out to me if you are experiencing the same thing. I know the information out there is not great.
I will possibly try and continue with another series of blogs in the future, but for this series on the “Reflections on Golf and Life After ECU Injury” I am signing off, for now. Wishing you all great health and don’t forget to take a moment to enjoy each day you are.
Bannar had a manservant waiting for her when she had knocked on the front door. He was tall, and thin, and clean-shaven; he smiled when he saw her.
“Sarah, I presume? I apologize for the familiarity; Ser Bannar did not give me your family name,” the man said.
“Aden, ser,” Sarah said.
“Madra Aden, my name is William. Bannar said you might be coming by this morning. Would you like something to eat?”
“That is far too much trouble, William. I’ll just wait for Bannar, if that’s alright.”
“It is no trouble at all, madra. The food is already on the table. You can eat while you wait, if you so choose.”
William bowed, and led her from the front room. Bannar’s home wasn’t the opulent palace that Sarah had believed it to be. He was the one of the richest merchants in town, and he lived in a house not much nicer than Ian. The trappings were nicer, sure; the table was polished wood, infused with gold and silver, and the plates were not cheap wood or heavy stone, but of bone, and some silver.
She wondered, too, about the stone he had taken from them. She had touched it, and that mattered to him, and it made her nervous. She had been too busy helping Alex and getting through the night to really focus on it at the time, but since she woke up that morning it had been weighing on her. She would have to ask Bannar about it, if only for her peace of mind.
“Do you like roast?” William said.
“I do,” Sarah said.
William cut a piece off a giant slab of meat, and put it on a plate, and handed it to her. The food on the table was fresh; steam still rose from it, and the smell of baked bread and cooked meats made her mouth water.
“I hate to trouble you, William,–” she began, but William poured her a goblet of water.
“Ser Bannar does not drink wine or beer or ale anymore, I’m afraid. Just water,” he said.
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“You are welcome, Madra Aden. He will be with you shortly.”
William bowed again, and left the room. Sarah took a fork and knife from the table, and cut up her roast; the first taste was almost more than she could handle, and she was reminded that she had not eaten in almost a full day. Merchant Turo had been murdered, skull smashed into small bits, and Sarah had spent much of that day reconstructing his head for the funeral. She was close to finished when Harry had carried Alex in, near death, and broken-bodied. She wondered what would happen to Merchant Turo now; they had moved him when Alex came in, used that room for Alex’s recovery.
“Good morning,” said Bannar, sitting down at the table with her.
“Good morning, Ser Bannar,” Sarah said.
“I see you’ve been speaking with William. Only he and the guards call me ser anymore.”
“I think more people call you ser than you realize. Ser.”
“An unnecessary title, but I would be lying that it doesn’t puff an old man’s chest at the sound of it. Do you like the food?”
“It’s delicious, ser,” she said.
“No more ser, please,” he said, cutting off a piece of roast, and a few vegetables. William came in and poured him more water, and did the same for Sarah. They ate for a moment, and the quiet in the room was filled by clinking forks and spoons, and the raising of goblets.
“Do you have an update for me?” Bannar said.
“Oh gods, I’m sorry, Merchant Bannar. He asked for you,” Sarah said, embarrassed. She had begun eating, and had forgotten the purpose of her visit, and to ask about the stone. It reminded her of her first night in Toha, after Ian had pulled her from that caravan; she had ate, and ate, and ate, and for a while couldn’t remember where she was, or where she came from, or even her name. That had been a good night.
“It is fine. Do you mind if I call you Sarah?” he said.
“Sarah is fine,” she said.
“Well, Sarah, if you have eaten your fill, I would like to see Alex.”
Sarah looked wistfully at the food on the table, but stood anyway. Bannar came over to her, and they linked arms, and they walked out of the house and into the sunlight. Ian’s house wasn’t far from Bannar’s; they lived only a few streets over from one another, bracketing the edges of the nicer homes in Toha.
“How long have you been here, Sarah?” Bannar said.
“Twelve years, kind of,” Sarah said.
“Longer than even I and Alex.”
“Only a few, I believe.”
“I don’t believe you and I have ever met before, which I find strange, in all this time of overlap.”
“When I was twelve, Ian– Ser Hansa sent me to study as a healer in the Four Corners. I spent five years there,” she said.
“And then came back here?” he said.
“No, I went to Boros. Or, was supposed to go to Boros, but my group came across members of the Royal Army, bogged down after battle. We were a group of healers, some of us even trained in battlefield medicine, and they conscripted us then and there. I spent three years, until the end of the war, working for them.”
“You’ve lived quite the life so far, Sarah Aden.”
“Enough of one, Ser Bannar.”
They walked in silence for a moment, arm and arm. People were out and about on this day, this perfect, cool morning. They were all the genty; all the genteel upper class of Toha, or what passed for genteel this far from the capitol. They came to the end of Bannar’s street, and made a left, walking down the main road of Toha, the only cobblestone road in the entire city. Bannar had some trouble picking up his feet, and they moved slower than they had on the firm dirt. A few times, Sarah thought she caught him stealing glances, but she was not sure.
“The war did not reach us here,” he said.
“I am not surprised,” she said.
“I expected it to, to tell you the truth. I expected that we would have to fight, whether in large or small numbers. But, no; the barbarians were driven backwards, about ten leagues from here.”
“Not so close.”
“Close enough to see Spahn go up in flames. The loggers brought back burned, warped wood from the edge of the Grenwood; it was a novelty for a while, a thing to say that you had a souvenir from the Burning of Spahn. A disgusting practice,” he said.
“Did you take any?” she said.
“Oh, of course. I sold it at a high price at my shop. Let no one say that I am adverse to making money.”
Another merchant, a young man in silk robes, bowed as he passed Bannar, who bowed in return.
“I’ve never see him before,” Sarah said.
“He sells weapons. Took over from his father. Danne Wallen, I believe,” Bannar said.
“He bowed to you.”
“And I bowed in return. We are acquaintances.”
“Oh no, Madra Aden. I sell clothes and pots and pans and boots to the good folk of this town. I do not sell weapons. He is very much not my competition, and he won’t ever be, if he knows what he’s doing.”
They came to the end of the cobble road, and took a right. There were not far from Ian’s house; she could see the front door from where they were.
“May I ask you a personal question?” Bannar said.
“You’ve asked me several personal questions,” Sarah said.
“One more, then.”
Bannar looked at her. His gaze was intense, and Sarah felt uncomfortable underneath it.
“Did you have any family in Boros? An aunt, or a grandmother, or anything of that sort?”
“My family is from Northmount. I was the first, and as far as I know, last person to leave the town. If I have family there, I do not know of them. Why?”
He looked at her again, and smiled sadly.
“You remind me of someone I knew. A spitting image of her, almost uncomfortably so. I was wondering if the two of you were related. Hopes of an old man, it seems.”
Sarah put her hand on the door, but stopped before opening it. She turned to Bannar, who looked at her with hope, as if she had remembered something. He looked younger, more vibrant; whoever this woman had been made a difference to Bannar. But she hadn’t remembered anything; she just had a question.
“May I ask you about the stone, Ser Bannar?” she said.
The hope fell from his face, and it became old, and gray, and tired.
“You are not in danger, Madra Aden, if that is what you were wondering,” he said.
“You asked who touched it.”
“And you did, and nothing happened. That means one of two things, both of which are inconsequential at the time being.”
Bannar’s lips tightened, and his jaw flexed. He put his own wrinkled hand on the door handle, and pushed it open.
“If I felt it necessary, I would tell you,” he said, a different man than the one who stumbled along the cobblestone. He pushed past her, and went into Ian’s house.
Harry downed his last beer; an early morning jog of the mind. Helena had cleaned him up, and the beer grounded him back in the work. Or, at least, that’s what he liked to think. Harry just liked to have a little hit in his neck when he went on early morning checks; it made him feel like he was ready to fight.
Outside of the bar, he passed by three beggars. One of them, with long red-brown hair, had a cap in front of him. Harry bent down and put a coin in it, and the young man peered up with his dirty face.
“Thank you,” said the beggar, and looked back down. The beggar next to him made a face. Harry nodded, and kept going.
Nobody had come storming into his house that night; a victory, all things considered, though Harry thought it possible that they had all been covertly murdered. But it was a happier outcome; he saw Thomas at his post, arms heavy with sleep. He clapped the glass-eyed boy on the arm, jolting him awake.
“Captain,” said Thomas, a second slow, with three blinks too many.
“Have you been out here all night, Thomas?” Harry said.
“Thank you. Find Wotom, tell him to take your post. Then go home, and don’t report till tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Captain. Thank you, Captain.”
Thomas slapped his right arm over his chest, grabbing his left bicep; a formal salute, created and implemented by a commander long-dead on the battlefield. Harry had outlawed it long ago, but he just smiled at Thomas, and let him walk away.
Harry went next to the Greased Pig. It wasn’t open for business, not yet; but this did not stop some of the regulars, like Water Dick and Swamp from lounging around outside. They had beers in old wooden cups, and had already drank their fill, if the sway of their legs as they tried to stand still was any indication.
“Where’d you get the beer?” Harry said to Water Dick, who pointed inside.
“Gita serving, but not inside,” Water Dick said. Harry went past them, and opened the door.
Gita was in there, in breeches and a sleeveless shirt, scrubbing the blood off of the floor. She had bruises on her arms, to go along with the ones on her face; her right arm was pinned to her chest by a piece of cloth, and a knife hung from her waist. At Harry’s entrance, she stopped, and looked up at him. He thought for a moment that she would attack him, but she relaxed, and went back to cleaning.
“Thought you might be someone looking to have a go at this place,” she said. “Was preparing to gut you.”
“Just coming to check on you,” Harry said.
“My arm is broken, but otherwise, I’m alright.”
“Did you see the Healer?”
“Saw you dragging bodies inside, figured it was best to leave it be for now.”
“He probably has some time now. A lull in the action, as it were.”
“More coming, then?” she said.
Harry leaned against the bar. The blood where the young guard had been impaled was mostly clean, but the outline of his corpse was forever there, at least in Harry’s mind.
“Yeah, more coming, I think,” he said. He stood up straight, went over, and stuck out his hand.
“I’ll go later,” she said.
“I’ll get someone to take care of this. Go get patched up, take some time. If action comes, everyone is going to need you at full strength,” he said.
Gita looked up at him. She was not a woman who liked pity; none did, really, but she especially. Harry had never asked, finding that he liked his jaw and nose intact and clear of bloodstains, but he suspected Gita had come from somewhere foul, and wasn’t anxious to go back. A lot of those here in Toha, he thought.
“Alright. But I’d like this place to actually be cleaner when I return, not just look it,” she said.
“It will be. I promise,” he said.
Gita stood, and brushed herself off. She and Harry went outside.
“You’re not coming with, are you?” she said.
“Until you make it safely to the Healer’s, yes,” he said.
“What about Water Dick and Swamp? They’ll break into anywhere for a beer.”
“Hey!” said Water Dick.
“That’s not true!” said Swamp.
Harry turned to them both. Short, stocky, fat bastards; they drank more than anybody in Toha, or at least acted as if they did. He pointed at Water Dick.
“If you go in there, I will hang you from a tree by your balls,” Harry said. He pointed to Swamp. “And you, I’ll gut with a cheese knife. Understand?”
They both nodded quickly, and sat down in front of the Pig, straight down into the soft dirt. Harry rolled his eyes, and he and Gita set off.
“****ing drunks,” he said.
“Those drunks pay me more coin than ten other customers combined. Try not to scare them off,” she said.
“Well, if the smell is any indication, I believe I emptied both of their bladders. They’ll be dying for a drink by the time you get back.”
She was in more distress than she let on; she moved slower and slower the closer they go to the Healer’s. He saw her bite back a yell more than once, as her foot caught on the ground, and her arm jostled against her chest. She was pale, and tired, and Harry wanted to carry her, but suspected he’d find his balls on the ground shortly thereafter.
At the Healer’s, she didn’t speak a goodbye, or a thank you; she just went into the open door.
“Can you help her?” Harry said.
“I’ll do my best,” the Healer said.
The Healer nodded, and led Gita deeper into the house. Harry closed the door, and let them be. He had a few more things to do before he checked on Alex, as much as he wanted to go now. Those seven men that had come in the night before would need to find somewhere to bed down, and were almost surely being watched; Toha had a strange relationship to foreigners, keeping a tight eye on anyone out of place, and seven men armed to the hilt looking for a warm place to sleep would send murmurs through the less reputable channels. Harry passed by a group of merchants in fancy silks, tittering amongst themselves. Harry had never seen them before, but they struck him as strange.
The closest inn was the Frogs and Fingers, a converted mansion that once belonged to the head of Toha. He and his wife were thought to be Channellers, the kind that kidnapped little children and frogs for their spells and potions; they were drug out into the street, and sodomized, and burned alive. It turned out they were spies for the Korodan, so, there’s that.
The Fingers always had a guard out front; it was mostly for show, to make those few passing-through travellers think this was a place where they were safe. But in truth the Fingers regularly stole from it’s patrons; caravan merchants resting for a night woke up with lighter wallets, but none of that money was ever found. Anyone with experience (sense, after stepping in the place), would go a few streets over to the Sunshine, and pay extra to not get Fingered.
“Morning, Sam,” Harry said to the guard outside.
“Morning, Captain,” said Sam. “You here about those boys that came in last night?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
“Lady Andrea said you might. She’s out back, tending to the well.”
“Thanks, Sam. Be safe.”
“You too, Captain.”
The Fingers did have one distinct advantage: they had their own well, and no other inn could boast of such a luxury. Most houses shared a well, set on a piece of land in the city shared in ownership by those houses, but a lucky few owned land where houses had been built around or next to a source of groundwater. Those houses often went for twenty times the price, and the owners had to be careful about where they left the deed; should you find a magistrate looking for coin, and have a talented forger at command, one could steal it out from the proper owner. The penalty for such malfeasance used to be a fine, and a two month expulsion from Toha, but Harry had executed one thief and his forger for the crime, and it had become less common in the five years since.
The well was in a covered portion of the inn; it was not apart of the inn, per se, but built around it and attached to the existing structure. Lady Andrea took care of it herself, not trusting anyone else to maintain the well, which was smart; should some worker poison the water, finally running off the last gullible customer (or putting them in the ground), then Lady Andrea would have to sell; she would find no shortage of buyers.
“They’re in the second room on the fourth floor,” Lady Andrea said when Harry stepped into the well room. She was fixing the crank on the well, replacing it with a new one. She was a muscular woman, with dark skin, and dark hair, pulled back into a ponytail. A sword sat against the wall, bigger than Harry’s.
“May I say hello first?” Harry said.
“Hello, Harry. They’re in the second room on the fourth floor.”
“Any trouble with them? “
“None. But I suspect they know we’re watching them.”
“I’m an professional thief, allegedly. I can tell when someone is hiding secrets,” she said.
“Quite a power you have, Lady Andrea,” he said.
“That,” she said, “or I have ways to listen into their conversations. They know, and do not care that we know that they know.”
“Any word on what they’re planning?”
“Nothing. Just keep your eye out. If they were to disappear, and, say, the Grenwood bears got a nice, hearty meal, I wouldn’t be off-kilter.”
“They just might. Morning, Lady Andrea,” he said.
“Morning, Captain Reyna.”
Harry left her to it.
Something struck him as off about the whole thing. It was a trap, but not; a taunt, but a shrug. He did not know what the point of all of this was; if they wanted to spring an attack on Toha, take whatever it was they came for, there were myriad ways to do it. But to come in, armed, and then not care about being surveilled puzzled Harry. The only people who would even notice them would be those who they would eventually have to answer to, and though he was no tactical genius, he was pretty sure that giving up the element of surprise was a bad idea.
He went up the stairs, heading to the fourth floor; his stomach rumbled, and that early morning beer came back to his throat. He felt nauseous climbing the stairs; felt something deep underneath; he felt fear has he made his way to that fourth floor. He stopped, and caught his breath. This felt off, and he did not like it, and so he went back down the stairs, and out the front doors.
Outside, he saw those men in the silks, putting money in the hats of those beggars he had seen before. But something was off there, too; they seemed to be actively hiding themselves now, positioned in a darker corner, partially behind some barrels. The men in silks were also strangely positioned; backs mostly turned to him, all three bending over to put money in the cap. The only part of them he could not see were their faces.
Around him, the rest of the world took no notice, not of one another. They all freely showed their faces, let their eyes and ears and mouths and noses be lit up by warm sun. But not the beggars, and not the men in the silk robes. And then one of them shifted, one of the beggars, and looked up at him, just for an instant, and he knew: they were watching him.
His heart turned hot, and his fingers tingled. He walked on, smiling at the passerby, and made his way down the road. They would not follow him again, of that he was sure; they had slipped up, for some reason; they had shown their hand, and he did not know why. But this much was certain: he was a target, and if he was a target, it meant they were here for something larger. That fear from before, that fear as he climbed the stairs, returned, and washed over him. But along with it came a thrill, and Harry thought of the man with the hammer, and the way his head hung half off his neck; he found himself anxious to do it again, to these men; and that, more than anything else, sent a chill down the back of his neck.
They were at Ian’s worn dinner table, Alex and Bannar, and neither of them could find the words, at first. Alex wanted to apologize, but had been struck dumb when he saw Bannar; he wondered if the man who had pulled him from the dirt was mad at him, and he wondered if he would be able to withstand it.
“Alex,” Bannar said, finally.
“Yes, Merchant Bannar?” Alex said, fearful.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better than yesterday.”
“I am very glad to hear that, old friend. Very glad indeed.”
Bannar reached out across the table, and gave Alex’s hand a squeeze; Alex felt hot tears in his eyes, and he blinked them back.
“I thought you were going to be upset with me,” Alex said.
“Gods no, Alex. Why would you think that?” Bannar said.
“I was supposed to protect the store, and your things, and–”
“It’s okay. I promise.”
Alex nodded, a weight lifted. He felt stupid, now; of course Bannar wouldn’t be upset. He had pulled him from the ****ing dungeon in the capitol; would he really be phased by a small explosion? Absurd to even consider it.
“I do need to ask you a few question,” he said. Alex nodded.
“Okay,” Alex said.
“Did you touch the stone?”
“Did you blow up the shop.”
“Yes,” Alex said, reluctantly. Bannar smiled, squeezed his hand again.
“It’s alright,” he said, “thank you for answering truthfully. Now, Healer Ian told me that you experienced a warmth when he was using his mending spell on you. Is that true?”
“Yes. Is that bad? Am I okay?”
“You’re fine, but it does tell us something important.”
“One more question: have you been having strange dreams since you touched it? Have you seen things that you’ve never seen before?”
Alex nodded, and Bannar sighed. He sat back in his chair, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He knocked on the table, and Ian came in.
“It’s what you thought,” Bannar said.
“Then we need to get him out of here,” Ian said.
“What? Why?” Alex said. Ian turned to Alex.
“There are two kinds of magic users, or Channelers: those with a well of natural magic within, and those who draw it from themselves,” Ian said. “I have no well of magic, no reserve to pull from; each drop I use comes from my own body. Someone like Healer Oros in the Four Corners has a reserve of magic to use; it’s like writing a pen that has ink pot to fill it, versus one that writes with your own blood. You have a magical reserve.”
“We know,” Bannar said, as Alex opened his mouth, “because you were able to feel the effects of that mending spell. Most do not feel healing spells; they feel a tingling, or something like it, and they’re healed. But those with reserves feel it almost as an emotion; almost as a state of mind. It leaves you open to extra anguish when hit with something evil, or dark, as well.”
“Did the stone give me this magic?” Alex said.
“The stone activates magic within those who have it, but in whom it lays dormant. They are rare, indeed, and worth a fortune. They are also dangerous, as you experienced, for anyone who touches it that has no magic within will be badly injured, as the Void Shadows made the stones, and they were unpleasant men. For those who already have magic already, it does nothing at all, ” Bannar said. Alex saw Ian’s eyes widen, and something flash across his face; but just as quickly, it was gone.
“Excuse me,” Ian said, and left the room. Bannar watched after him, and then looked back at Alex.
“I can use magic?” Alex said, and Bannar nodded.
“You’ll require training, lest you hurt yourself and others, but that seems to be the case. But that will have to wait for now. We’re going to get you out of the city, into the Grenwood, until you can recover,” Bannar said.
“Why would I got into the Grenwood?”
“That stone just woke magic up in you. Many people have magic reserves that the magic itself did not see fit to activate. It takes a massive amount of power to wake up a Channeller, and people are bound to notice. I do not want anything to happen to you again.”
Bannar stood, slowly. He looked tired, and worn.
“Can I help you, Ser Bannar?” Alex said.
“Don’t call me ser, for one. But thank you, Alex. Just rest. That will be enough for me,” Bannar said. Ian came back into the room. He looked troubled.
“May I speak with you for a moment, Lucas?” Ian said.
“Of course,” Bannar said, turning to Alex. “Rest, please. You’ll be moved tonight.”
Bannar and Ian walked out together. Alex remained at the table. His head was spinning, and he felt nauseous. He felt a laugh bubble up his throat, and it came out as a half-cackle, and that half-cackle made him laugh again, and before he knew it, he had laid his head on the table, laughing so hard that he began to cry. Eventually, he sat up, and contained his laughter to a few chuckles, and gasps. He wiped his eyes.
“Gods above,” he said, sniffling, “what the **** is going on?”
He had peeked. Joseph knew that Ethan had peeked, regardless of protestations to the country. Ethan had peeked, and there was no doubt that the old guard knew that they were following him.
“I doubt he knows,” Ethan said.
“You saw his demeanor, Ethan,” Joseph said. They had relocated from the Frogs and Fingers, outside of the city. The four men disguised as rich merchants had changed their disguise, and moved over to the Sunshine; the weapons had left with Joseph, Ethan, and Tenzo. They were in a makeshift cabin, once owned by a family of loggers, now buried in the backyard. Tenzo was outside, packing snow to melt down for water; tomorrow, he would go down to the river and bathe and clean the weapons, and bring water, too; but it was too dangerous for them to move around like that now.
Joseph and Ethan were fixing dinner for that night.
“He was probably spooked by those fools in the silks. Bloody fools probably tipped him off, which would be why he didn't go up to the bloody room at the inn. Surprised us all,” Ethan said.
“You looked at him,” Joseph said.
“So what? You weren’t looking at him? Tenzo wasn’t looking at him? You think Hiseni or Itho or the others weren’t staring?”
“Not one of them stared so brazenly. You made an error, and have put this operation in danger.”
Ethan slammed a dish down as he cleaned it, and it broke on the table.
“You put this operation in danger when you hired mercenaries to find the merchant. They made a ruckus, and put the town on alert!” Ethan said.
“The town being on alert was an acceptable outcome, as you very well know,” Joseph said.
“You deny your failure, but accentuate mine? Cowardly, Joseph. Cowardly.”
Ethan swept the pieces of broken plate off the table. Joseph’s mouth tightened, but he said nothing. Ethan cared not for this house; he had been the one to find it, and the one to gut those who lived in it, but Joseph did care. Blood spilled should be blood earned; that is, a fair fight, with reasonable motive, should be the only reason a knife or sword or bow is drawn. But Ethan trained under Master Gramma, and Ethan killed whatever stood adjacent to him, regardless of the consequences.
“They will prepare for us now,” Joseph said.
“Good. I grow tired of waiting. We should just take the town, and execute anyone who will not lead us to the stone and the magic it awakened.”
“We are seven men. Not enough for a town as large as Toha.”
“Then we call our brothers, and we take the town then.”
Ethan placed out more plates, leaving them intact this time. He went outside, and took the pig he was roasting on the spit, and brought it inside. Joseph cleaned up the shards on the floor, and then laid out the cutlery. The family had no silver forks and knives and spoons; just rough wooden utensils, probably cut by the family themselves. Joseph’s father had been a sculptor, and he admired the craft work. He would’ve liked to meet the person who cut the forks and knives and spoons
Tenzo came back with melted snow He set down two large buckets, careful not to slosh them. He came to the table with a smile, enjoying the warmth from the fire, and from the satisfaction that came from completing a task.
“Pour the water,” Ethan said to Tenzo, who did, though Joseph saw anger on his face. He wished, not for the first time, that he had brought a youngling along instead of Ethan. Ethan was a talented swordsmen, one filled with a bloodlust so great that he could take down ten men and feel no fear nor fatigue, but he wore on the nerves; had Hiseni been here, instead of Tenzo, Ethan would’ve long been buried, facing the sun, as were his wishes.
Tenzo poured the water, and they sat down at the table. They each ate slowly, and in silence. Tenzo prayed first, as he always did; he was a devoted follower of the Smiling Gods, while Joseph had been raised as a worshipper of the Bloodied Four. He no longer practiced, not since he joined the Rei, but he still remembered the prayers at the table, and the sacrifices after every meal.
Joseph had never seen Ethan pray, though he knew that he had been in seminary for the Smiling Gods, before joining with them. The Rei attracted all types, all for various reasons, and rare was the man that was turned down. Joseph disagreed with allowing all willing to become members, but he was a good soldier, and he followed orders.
Ethan finished first, and went outside to piss. Tenzo looked at Joseph when he was gone; he was upset.
“He told me to pour the water,” Tenzo said.
“I heard,” Joseph said.
“He does not like me.”
“I think I should kill him.”
“Not now,” Joseph said.
“If he touches one of the people who gave coin, I will kill him,” Tenzo said.
“I know. I am not against it.”
“He is too angry for this mission. Too angry, and too proud, to believe in the cause.”
“Perhaps. But his strength in battle is worth the agony he causes. At least for now. I will speak to the Council when I return.”
Tenzo stood. They had stashed their bedrolls against the wall, and Tenzo unrolled his. They had started a fire in the fireplace, and Tenzo laid his bedroll in front of it. He crawled upon it, and closed his eyes, and, within moments, was fast asleep. Joseph envied him. He could not fall asleep so easily.
Ethan came back inside, still stuffing his cock back into his breeches. He sighed upon seeing Tenzo.
“Little bastard finally fell asleep,” he said, slumping down at the table.
“You should be nicer to him,” Joseph said.
“The nicest thing I could do would be cut his throat. A believer in the Smiling Gods. What a moron.”
“All religions are welcome in the Rei.”
Ethan grabbed his bedroll, and placed it in the corner.
“Tomorrow,” Ethan said, “I am going into town to look for that merchant. Are you coming?”
Joseph looked at him. The plan they had all agreed upon, when leaving Toha, was to lie low for a few days. But Ethan was impatient, and desired to rule over Joseph and Tenzo, and the rest; he would go regardless of orders, or the like.
“Tenzo and I are coming, yes,” Joseph said. Ethan nodded, and laid on his bedroll, and rolled onto his side, back facing Joseph. He thought he was shaming Joseph, showing that he was unafraid to face the wall, unafraid to show his vulnerable back; but it was a relief for Joseph, for every time he saw Ethan’s face, he wanted to drive a knife straight through it.
Joseph went outside, and took a piss.
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Posted this on IG yesterday, just something I thought would be interesting to throw out there. I could be completely off but when you look at players that have had long, relatively injury-free careers they tend to have more "freedom" with their lower body (Phil, Jack, Sam Snead, Vijay). By freedom I mean allowing the hips to turn, trail knee losing some flex and the lead knee moving inward. I've also felt Tiger's swing, especially in recent years, is too restrictive and hurts his downswing sequencing.
Someone commented that it wasn't a good comparison because the swing of Tiger's isn't a driver swing, it actually is but I'll also share this driver swing from last year in Phoenix.
Here are some of the comments and my responses:
There have been 2 or 3 threads lately of guys that are getting burnt out on golf, or don't know why they are still playing.
I cant say I am at that point, as I still average over 120 rounds a year. I guess with my hype of getting ready for the US Mid Am and my Club Championship this year, I've been so focused on the goal. Well, now that those have past, I am simply playing to play. Have some fun. You never know what "winter" will be like in Arkansas. Last year we had 1 day where there was a very light snow that melted the next day, so golf improvements over the winter were pretty possible. The year before last we had 4 or 5 days were the area shut down since there are no snow plows to clear the 4-5 inches we got. It was damn cold for a long time.
Ill continue to keep up with evlovr monthly hoping to come out in the spring ready to fire some great scores. The good news is, the best time of year is starting. Cooler temps & thinner rough are fast approaching. No more helping people search for balls in the rough on every hole, and literally grip it and rip it without much worry of missing the fairway. Fall golf is great. Setting my sights on 2017 and overall improvement. Very proud of the 2016 season, but ready to turn the page on this chapter in golf.
It has been exactly 6 months after I retired. Here's what happened to my golf after I have retired.
- I have been playing 5 - 6 times a week. However, a simple majority of the rounds have been less than 18 holes. I simply quit when I get too tired, get hungry, etc.. Being able to play everyday, I don't feel I need to finish around.
- With more time, I thought I'd get warm up before a round but I don't. I feel I can learn more by playing. Instead, I go to range practice whenever I can't play a round - raining, course bought out, etc..
- I avoid playing during busy hours, like Saturday. That means I am playing a lot by myself or with my wife. This gives me time to focus more on each shot. When I play in 4-some, sometimes, I get distracted.
- My HI improved immediately after my retirement. Playing 5 - 6 times a week helped me improve on my short game, and course management. HI improved by about 4 - 5 strokes over the 6 months, not all at once though. However, I don't think it will continue to improve unless I do something different.