Sometimes the day can only get better.
Monday was one of those days, after walking 36 holes on Sunday, getting 2 beatings and then dispatching the Grinder in the afternoon, (formerly known and referred to as The Typist after he gave himself his own nickname), The Shooter was a little sore and tender even though he is one of the best athletic specimens out there. It happens to the best of them I suppose.
The money game is on this afternoon and I have a tee time at 12.45. $100 in 10 pro's this time prizemoney breaks down to 4th with money back.
Having 68 and 67 yesterday puts The Shooter in a good frame of mind going in.
Leave the office with plenty of time. As a lot of you know, Shooter has a process and it must be followed or shit can go sideways.
Arrive 90 minutes before the tee time (sometimes 2 hours), sunscreen up, do some media, hit the range, work through the bag, chip, shoot the breeze with other players, hit a few putts and sign a glove, a couple of hats or balls for the kids before teeing off. #givingback
Monday didn't turn out that way, travelling to the course in plenty of time, arrive and pull in to the reserved Shooter parking spot. Realise I have left my wallet on my desk in the office, make some calls, Sweets confirms the wallet is still there. Fuck.
In the car, back to the office, temperature rising.
Arrive back at the course, some fucker has parked in Shooters park, how does this shit happen, cant they read. It's probably some media wanker.
Get to the range after getting sunscreen all over my hands, now informed the pairings have changed. Fucks sake, now The Shooter is with someone that he doesn't know and what was going to be a comfortable pairing is now different.
Covered in sunscreen, no range balls, no putts, temperature is now peaking at 43 degrees, flustered and now on the tee. Meet old mate, say hello, he pumps one 60 meters past the bunker on the first hole. As it went over the bunker it was 100 feet in the air, Holy Fuck Me.
Settle Shooter. Contact is pretty good, 20 past the bunker, good shot from the Shooter, still 40 behind. This could be a long day.
Driving up to my ball, the cart stops 20 yards onto the fairway. I check all the batteries, change the setting to allow me to go forward, still no good, fucks sake, what else can happen.
Reverse the cart, drive it up to the 90 degree position and drive out, by this time my playing partner has been at his ball for a few minutes. As soon as I drive out to the fairway the cart stops again. Reverse to cart path.
I drive it all the way back to the shop and swap it over for a new one.
By the time I get to my ball the tee time behind has been waiting for ages, I get back to mine, old mate has hit (4 iron into the 1st).
Shooter takes out the 3 wood, heart pumping, people on the tee, old mate soothing a 4 iron onto the green.
It was one of the best top domes you have seen, I suspect that the bottom groove of the 3 wood hit about half way up the ball making it not only run along the ground but every now and then it made a small bounce. What a fuck up this day has become and its only the first hole. By the time I get to where I think the ball is, old mate is on the green and telling me its 50 yards further back in the rough. Fuck me, I cant see it its so fucking deep.
Thin that over the back of the green, chip it on to 4 feet miss that for a cool little bogey. Fuck me. Hole it from 22 feet on 2 for birdie, stump one on 6 from 92 meters to 2 inches, bogey 8, make the turn in even par 36.
Birdie 12 from 6 feet, hole one from 25 feet up the swale on 13 for birdie to go to -2 for the day. Old mate tells me I am now making him sick.
Lip out for birdie on 14 and 15. Get to 16 tee, going ok, not great just ok.
Hit that tee shot left, dead up that white fucking tree, I know, I'll try to hit a snap hook punch 7 iron along the ground and run it on.
Along the ground was right, it hardly gets out of the grass in front of me, stays in the rough now 85 meters away to a front pin, I have this shot. Its a Shooter staple.
After I hit it I realised I didn't have that shot and it was 85 and hitting it 65 isn't what I needed, you cock, now chip that fucker on and have a couple of stabs at the 6 footer.
Nice Double. Hijo de puta as our Spanish friends would say.
Now, 2 to play, back to even par, for fucks sake Shooter, what a double. 5 Iron on 17, 176 to carry the bunker, 192 hole. Smooth that one down there and pull it like a 14 year old schoolboy, its now in that long shit grass that grows straight against you. I have to get it over the bunker to a flag that is cut 7 feet from the edge of the green.
I can hear the ambulance sirens coming to pick me up, finishing in a body bag again. Something happens ! The pitch shot comes off nicely, high, soft and runs to 12 feet past the hole, I pop the collar on the Turtle Creek shirt and tip the hat to the camera.
What a great shot Shoot. Again,for the Spanish following, I said under my breath, Vete a la mierda mentira estupida, soy el tirador
A little pumped after that par, lets smash one down the last and finish this off well. The ambulance with the body bag has turned off the siren.
That's until I hit a pull 40 yards left over the bunkers and the Pro V smashes into a tree and goes left, wow, now I fear I am really fucked. Puta Perra.
Can someone shut those fucking sirens off.
After 2 minutes, old mate finds it. Shooter has a gap just big enough to fit the ball through, from the fairway I can hit it on the green and have a chance at birdie 4. The ball comes out perfectly, now its 5 iron from 186, the 18 footer for birdie misses and Shooter has to be content with an even par 72.
From the bad start and almost finishing in a body bag to even par, not a bad result. Sign some gloves and wait for the results.
In the money Shooter out.
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