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Yes, Matt Wolff has a weird swing.
Jim Furyk too.
Keegan Bradley sets up pretty funny.
Dustin Johnson has a bowed left wrist at the top (as does Jon Rahm, and Graeme McDowell).
Jordan Spieth and Lee Westwood chicken wing it.
Lee Trevino had an odd swing.
- You're not any of those people.
- They're supremely talented.
- They spend HOURS a DAY working on what they do.
- There's nothing that says they wouldn't have been better (or worse) if they switched it up to a more conventional thing.
- These guys tend to be in the minority.
I use Matt Wolff's swing as an exaggerated feel quite often.
That doesn't mean I actually want golfers to swing that way.
If you've got a "unique" thing in your swing, think long and hard about whether it's something that's holding you back, given the above bullet points.
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Not this guy 😃
Bought an Olympic barbell set and a power rack to go with my old bench and dumbbells. Still need to get a cable pull down attachment, but it’s out of stock. I’ll probably pick up a rack for the plates because stacking them up on the floor is going to get old fast.
I might even get a mat for the floor and put some hooks on the wall to hang my resistance bands. There’s a stability ball brand new in the box buried behind the tote bag. The sky’s the limit - well actually my low ceiling is, it’s 81”.
My entire basement smells like industrial rubber right now.
Hey y’all! Been a long time since I’ve posted in this blog in my quest to get into single digits, but I have made some good progress: my handicap is currently 11.3 and everything feels good right now. However, something has cropped up: a coworker and I are going to play an 18-hole match Wednesday afternoon. Here’s what we were thinking:
•We play Croasdaile, the course where we both work. After a fair bit of discussion, we decided to play the blue/white hybrid tees (6241 yds, 70.8/133).
•Because our handicaps are about even (mine 11.3, his 12.6), we’ve decided to play straight up. We’ve had some short game contests and it’s pretty much a coin toss as to who wins.
•We want to put something on the line for this match, and here’s what we came up with: the winner would get a dozen golf balls of their choice and lunch of their choice, which amounts to about a $60 match.
I’m feeling pretty good about this match, will definitely keep y’all posted!
If you don't know what fisking is, take a minute to read about it here:
I'm going to have a stab at fisking a terrible article I read from the Guardian's golf correspondent on the rules "controversy" at the Solheim Cup. If you didn't see the whole controversy, a European player picked up an American ball that was overhanging the hole before she should have. That mean the ball was holed with the previous stroke, and the Americans won the hole instead of tying it. Cue the pearl clutching from some members of the media, in particular this Guardian writer:
And now, for the fisking. It probably won't be as elegant as some of the greats at fisking, but this article was so bad that I wanted to go through it paragraph-by-paragraph to trash and mock it.Quote
The smell of cordite fills the Solheim Cup air once more. A contest which has an uncanny knack of throwing up moments of huge controversy has reverted to type in Ohio. Nelly Korda, the world No 1, was the beneficiary of an intervention from rules officials that left the European captain Catriona Matthew visibly riled. And no wonder; a key moment had been determined by a stopwatch and a television monitor.
The key moment was the European player breaking the rule, Ewan. The stopwatch and television monitor are not necessary unless she picks up an overhanging ball. And, neither were actually necessary in this case - it was so obvious that the Rules Official watching the group with her naked eye had already identified the possible issue before going to television. Still, the key point that Ewan glosses over: none of this happens if Madeline doesn't break the rule! The rules officials don't get involved unless a player breaks a rule.Quote
Korda’s putt for a three on the 13th during the Saturday afternoon fourball session rested agonisingly above the hole. In an obvious bid to speed up play – the match in question had earlier been warned over their pace – Europe’s Madelene Sagström stepped forward and tossed the ball back to Korda. Cue chaos. Rule 13.3b states: “If the opponent in match play deliberately lifts or moves the player’s ball overhanging the hole before the waiting time has ended, the player’s ball is treated as holed with the previous stroke.” Sagström’s intervention was after seven seconds; 10 were permitted to Korda as per the rulebook. The incident moved the US to one up in the match, which Korda and Ally Ewing duly won by a single hole.
An obvious bid to speed up play? Come the f*** on. We don't need an excuse for what it was - a brain fart. It happens. Ewan, being a Scotsman, should know that what Madeline did did not actually speed up play at all. It would have been faster for her to actually set up for her putt and get ready to play while Nelly emoted on the green.
Another question for you, Ewan. You're on site at the tournament. Did you ask Madeline why she picked up the ball? Did she tell you she was trying to speed up play? Or are you just coming up with an excuse to paint her in the best light possible?Quote
It must be noted that Korda did not cry foul. The Floridian – on her knees in dismay – was clearly of the wholly legitimate viewpoint that her putt was not going to drop, save the miraculous arrival of an Arctic blast. The hole had been won on the advice and actions of the Solheim Cup’s chief referee. “It was never going to go in,” argued Sagström, only to be told that did not matter. Matthew disputed with the referee that the ball was overhanging.
Nelly said she didn't know if the ball had a chance to go in because she didn't get a chance to look at it. Sort of undercuts your first point here.
Again, the hole was not won because of the rules official. It was won because Madeline picked up the ball too early. It is important to talk about the first thing that led to everything else happening! Ewan is very conveniently skipping over that whole problem here. None of this happens if Madeline doesn't break the rules.Quote
“It was definitely awkward, you don’t want to win a hole like that,” said Korda. “We didn’t want it to happen this way. It was very unfortunate. Hopefully they [the Europeans] are OK with us. We didn’t even have a say.” Still, having won the hole via such dubious circumstance,
Dubious circumstance? Infrequent maybe. Dubious? Since when is following the rules dubious? This is one of the highest level competitions for women golfers out there. Why it is a question on whether they should follow the rules of golf at all?Quote
the US pair could have earned widespread praise and protected the integrity of the competition by immediately conceding the next hole and returning the match to all square. They decided otherwise.
This is hot garbage. Europe could have protected the integrity of the competition by not breaking the rules in the first place. The integrity of the competition is much more dubious if you don't follow the rules.
And why should the US give back a hole that they rightfully won? Are they trying to win the competition or get praise in the media? Sure, it would been widely praised in the golf media, but it might have also lost them the Solheim Cup. It came down to a pretty thin margin and every half point mattered.
Final question on this - is Ewan Murray an authority on the integrity of the competition? Or the spirit of golf? Ewan, have you cracked open the Rules of Golf about what the spirit of the game is. If you had, you might have seen this as the first bullet when the rules are talking about the spirit of the game:Quote
All players are expected to play in the spirit of the game by:
- Acting with integrity – for example, by following the Rules, applying all penalties, and being honest in all aspects of play.
The spirit of the game is following the god damn rules. You don't throw away the rulebook because your nebulous view of the integrity of the game is offended. And, to be honest, even though Ewan is a Scot, I don't really trust or care what golf writers think the spirit of the game is. Golf writers who apparently can't be bothered to turn to the first page of the first rule in the book do not have any authority on this subject. Even if they are Scottish.Quote
Sagström, who was partnered by Nanna Koerstz Madsen, was visibly and understandably dejected as the match closed. “I believe in integrity and honour of the game of golf and I would never pick up a putt that had a chance to go in,” she said. “I personally don’t agree with the decision with the ball being on the edge but I didn’t follow the 10-second rule. It sucks right now. I feel like I let my team down.”
I'm highlighting this because I really don't think Madeline did anything awful. She broke a rule. It happens. She didn't have any moral failing. The ball was not going to fall in the hole. She did not cheat or even try to cheat. She just broke a rule. I feel bad for her because I think it was an innocent mistake, and it sucks that she is taking it so hard.
And, I think this is the last bit I want to highlight, even though it's not from the writer.Quote
The golf world looked on agog. Thomas Bjørn, the former European Ryder Cup captain, said: “Do rules officials in golf realise how unbelievably stupid they make our game look?”
Why is enforcing the rules make golf look stupid? If you think the rule is wrong, why don't you come up with a different rule that will satisfy you? As a former Ryder Cup captain, I think your opinion would be taken pretty seriously. Also, note that Bjorn is European and undoubtedly has a rooting interest here.
I actually think the overhanging ball rule is fine, and I'm not sure there's another way to write it that's any better. Maybe I'll write that up in a different post.
That's all the energy I have on the article. The rest of it is just a recap of the day. I've already put too much time into this. Do better, Ewan Murray.
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This year has been great! A lot of work, but something I’ve needed to further my coaching career. At my prior employment, the course was cart mandatory so junior golf was almost non existent. Now at a muni that has a great practice facility, junior golf is big. This summer, I coached 2 13U PGA Jr League teams (24 players), ran (ongoing) 4 junior camps with around 40 kids each time, and the course held a Drive, Chip, and Putt qualifier.
Prior to the year, I completed ADM (American Development Model) for golf and it’s something I use a lot. A common conversation I have with parents is about how much instruction is needed for their kids. At a certain age, we want to give kids the tool and just let them explore and swing out of their shoes to develop, physically. They need to learn on their own how to have fun on the course. We can give them games to play, but we shouldn’t force golf on them. Then little by little, introduce new concepts, mechanics, etiquette, etc. so that we edge them in the right direction. Some parents were hoping I was going give their 10yr old kid the best looking swing ever. Not happening. My goal is simple, create life long golfers. If you want to become a really good player, we can do that after a certain age or development level. I am not here to potentially burn a kid out of playing because they are working too hard.
Next year will be fun. There’s more things I want to do.
Well, The past 6-7 weeks has not been good for my game. I could list many excuses but bottom line is I cannot expect to improve if I do not do the practice. Other that the practice green before my league I have not been to a range once for quite some time. I will look for the positive, my putting is the best area of my game and it shows that practice can and does work so if I make time for the range I should improve other aspects of my game. Also, this morning I met up with @dennyjonesand was able to spend a little time on the range before that round. Not enough to give me a 180 degree turnaround on my game but enough that I felt I can progress more. I only hit 4 of 14 fairways today but I was able to dig out of trouble a few times and had 1 GIR and 6 nGIRs. Still had a few blow-up holes and some really bad shots, but the bad shots did not cause me to totally collapse on future holes. Had 3 Pars, 5 Bogeys, 6 Double-Bogeys, 2 Triple-Bogeys & 2 Quad-Bogeys. Those Triples & Quadruples really hurt and this should round should have been in the high 90s instead of 103. My putting really helped with a total of 32 putts and only 2 Three-Putts. My goal in the next few weeks needs to be to get to the range.
Not sure why, but my Game Golf would not load up. It uploaded a round then said "No Data". Oh Well, I at least kept some stats manually but really wanted to see more of the stats from GG. Hopefully next time.
My recovery from brain surgery is just about complete. The medical team has begun the process of weaning me off the anti-seizure medication. Yes, I have two ½ inch diameter holes on the top of my head but my hair covers them nicely. I am just about as good as I am going to be. I feel good.
I wish I could say the same about my golf game. There have been some weeks where I contemplated permanently putting the clubs in the basement and pulling out the fishing gear. I have never been a good player but I was competent and at times had my moments of brilliance. Playing really bad golf was just no fun.
2021 so far has seen me struggle to break 100. I have picked up my ball mid-hole dozens of times more often in the past couple months than I would over the course of several years. I think my handicap index has hit the “hard cap” or it would be 15.0+ and climbing.
Still, there have been some recent signs for hope. I managed a 38 on the front nine of my home course before bringing it to the house with a back nine 53. In our last tournament I managed 2 birdies and only a 3-putt double bogey on the last hole kept me from breaking 80 (yeah, I choked big time).
It looks like the fish are safe for another season. I am going to keep practicing and playing and we will see what happens.
The starting line-up has changed with the addition of a face balanced TM Spider Tour putter. I ordered it at 33.5" with the tour red body with black, silver, and tour red accents with a black shaft. Three footers don't stand a chance.
Intrigued with the driving iron buzz, I checked out the offerings wanting to be fit into a 2 iron Cobra or Titleist U510. When the dust settled, the Titleist U500 was declared the champion in the 20* lofted 3 iron with the 6.0 Hzrdus Smoke Black. I let go of the process and I hit this thing the best and most consistent. I was consistently carrying this 212-215 with a tight dispersion. The 2 irons being a little longer with a flatter face carried about the same but were just all over the place. This is the same carry as my Adams 2 hybrid, which after many years has been retired and fits perfectly gapped between the 3 wood and 4 iron. The first strike on the course was into a par 5 with 225 to the front edge of the green and I got it to one yard on the fringe. I hit a couple of bullets on some shorter par 4s so we shall see how this goes. Even on some poor strikes, I seem to hit it better than my hybrid and it certainly sets up a lot cleaner.
Other tweaks - I bent the 4 iron one degree strong to 23, 5 iron 1/2 degree to 26.5 (6 iron is at 30 and 4 degrees from there), flattened the SW 1/2 degree to standard and the lob wedge 1 degree to 1/2 down. For reference my 3-Gap are 1/2 up and my SW and LW from a fuller swing hit dead on middle. I was feeling a little heel in the LW and the bunker scrapes were just inside the midpoint. Taking it down a degree puts the center for short game outside of center toward the toe. I could immediately tell a difference in the nip city factor and wished I did this a while ago.
Yesterday was beautiful early spring day in Ohio as is today. It is going to break 70 for the first time this year. Since we are now on DST, I would typically be thinking about going out to play 9 holes after work or cutting out a bit early to get some golf in. I would have normally been on the golf course yesterday for sure, but I am just not feeling it this year. I did a bit of yard work and took the patio furniture out of the shed. While doing that, I saw my golf clubs sitting there, and I just closed the door and left them in the shed. I don't know what is wrong with me. This is the first spring where I haven't been excited about getting out and playing since I took up the game. Could it be the fear of hurting my knee? I am still waiting on Worker's Comp... Could it be the courses that I would normally be playing are closed permanently. Perhaps it is because it feels like the whole world has gone to 💩, and the thought of chasing a white ball around a grassy field seems completely meaningless. I even drove past a golf course filled with golfers yesterday. The site of a golf course in the spring would normally ignite that flame inside of me, but not this year. I wasn't even slightly tempted to take my clubs to Florida the week before last. Could this be a farewell to golf?
It may have been a cold gray day yesterday afternoon, but I enjoyed my nine holes very much.
The quick tour of the front nine with Ralph and Bob sure beats the hell out of watching my beleaguered fantasy football teams, but Sunday was just a bit better than usual. My driver finally cooperated. The normally recalcitrant 1W hit five fairways and narrowly missed a sixth with legitimately solid 250-yard drives. Have no idea where that's been all year, but better late than never. I finished with a 42. Maybe not conventionally impressive but about as well as I've done all year for nine holes.
The pleasantness of the round and the steadily approaching end of the season, got me reflective.
Covid, crowds, closures and crappy golf were so much a part of the spring and early summer. Losing KIttyhawk was hard. Particularly for an introvert like me, the place was the one social outlet I really had. No matter what time, one of Kittyhawk's courses would be available. The range was huge. Sometimes, I'd come just to chip and putt on one of the three big practice greens. The slate of events my old association had for us meant that a hacker like me could always compete in events with people like me and I got to know a lot of those guys. Those are all things that can't be replaced.
None-the-less, I'm thankful for how things eventually turned out.
Mostly, I'm thankful my new friend Ralph was willing to let me join him for his 2 p.m. tee times. Through him I met several other club members and made the business of securing tee times possible on a course that was jam-packed most of the season. Getting to know these guys over the season has been enjoyable enough to take the sting out my struggles hitting the ball.
I'm also very pleased to be a member at a course like Miami Shores where the City of Troy is actually investing in the facilities instead of closing them. Course conditions there had always been fairly decent. To that the city recently added a new driving range and new clubhouse. The range has been so successful that they are building an additional tee area at the far side of the property. Enough were using it that we kept running out of turf. The pro, Kyler Booher, and his staff do an excellent job.
I think I'll try to ramp back up with the handicap next year. Maybe if I get back to some level of decency we'll even give the Club Championship another try.
Either way, I've got a home course to do it at.
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'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.
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.
Recent EntriesLatest Entry
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: