Fore play......

Pervert, this is about golf, cow pasture pool if you will.. or, even if you won't.

My life has been relegated to "C": Grades, car, house, savings account, clothes, golf 'ability', yada. Average, very average.

I am probably closer to a "D" in golfing skills, but, will stick to "C" for blog purpose.

I love me some golf. I am, frankly, not very good - and, there is little hope that will change - and as I age, it's expected I'll get even worse. Don't care. I loves me some golf.

Why? Because you see stuff. Like? Well... we were playing in Cameron, MO one day.. nice little smaller town golf course, surrounded by homes... Uphill par four. My buddy tees off... it starts to slice.. (Slice is what all C, D golfers do, we strike the ball with a wicked right to left swing, and, predictably, the ball moves in a wicked left to right motion.).. So he tees off. It ain't looking good. In fact, it's headed for a brick house atop the hill, WAY out of bounds on the right. As it soars, the double door garage is opened by a lady who's probably backing out to head to the Piggly Wiggly. It seemed like the ball, moving West to East, stayed in the air forever and ever. Just as the lady bound for Piggly Wiggly got her car completely backed out of the garage, my buddy's ball bounded into the garage. It looked like a super ball as it entered, bounced off the ceiling, side wall, other side wall, ceiling, etc again and again - all, unbeknownst to the lady headed to the grocery store. She presses the button, the garage door comes down, and my buddy's ball is probably still in that garage today. I abhor naming names, but I will never forget this shot Dale Hoy.

Ya see stuff ya just don't see elsewhere. I remember seeing, hearing, two squirrels, some 40 feet in the air, making a baby squirrel. If memory serves, it can get quite frantic. This one got frantic to the point they suddenly fell 40 feet to the ground, both, made a thud thud noise - and off they went, unhurt. I think he musta said something about marriage or weight or something.

I remember anudder buddy. All tee off areas have ball markers from where you are to hit from. The blue pair is usually where experienced golfers tee off from - the furthest ones from the green one is trying to reach. Then, white markers a little closer for us C/D type players, and red markers, for women. They now even have gold tee markers, even a tad closer - for us old farts. These specific tee markers were round, solid balls, approximately 6" in diameter. Teeing off from white, buddy hits ball. It barely gets off ground, immediately hits a circular red marker ahead, and then it makes a beeline 180 STRAIGHT BACK for his head. He ducked, fell to ground, it barely missed him, we too fell to ground in side splitting laughter. Hard to recreate in a blog, you'da had to have been there I guess.

Another day, I'd hit no less than a half dozen balls into the forest, ne'er to be found again. Not too worry, I buy very cheap golf balls (Amazon, to my door, a dozen, in two days, for $8.94.) I also play with golf balls lost by others. Frustrating though, to see six golf balls laughing their way out of bounds. As we golfers do, we play for four hours, then gather for three hours to talk about what just transpired. A lady in our group, twenty times a better golfer than I, was sitting next to me at the bar. As we visited, she bounced the golf ball in her hand off the wooden bar time and again. Finally, she looks at her golf ball, says, "This one has been good to me.. third round in a row using it" (meaning it never went out of bounds, into forest.) Were it not for some very good anxiety medicine, I woulda slapped her off the barstool.

Par 3 course, Kearney, MO. Four of us. We noticed a lad (snotnose, said lovingly) behind us. We could tell he was a pretty decent golfer. In fact, once we'd turned as he teed off - his ball went straight into the hole for a hole-in-one, and there we were jumping up and down, high-fiving each other, yelling, shouting at the opportunity to have seen this. Kid walks up, no emotion shown, bends down, picks up his ball from the hole. Astonished (we'd waited for him) we said "AREN'T YOU EXCITED? I MEAN, YOU JUST GOT A HOLE IN ONE!"...... "Eh, it's my 5th one" the 15 year old said. Scroll to anxiety medicine/the want of slap.

As frustrating as golf can be, it's also so very relaxing. Ya get away from Dodge. You are amidst nature, beauty - and on rare occasions, you even hit a good one that makes it all worth it. I'm long past throwing clubs, muttering "oh shits", slamming my putter into the turf of the green. Yes, anxiety meds, but also, the realization - I'm here for fun, and I'll be damned I'm going to have that, even when it affords having the worst score of the foursome.

I'm often glued to the Golf Channel, NBC, CBS - where, usually at least once per 3-4 hour viewing time, I see someone hit a really really crappy shot - and it affords inward thinking, "Ha, I coulda done that!"

I've probably written about all of the above before, so, apologies. Age, I blame it on age. A final tale, and quite certain I've shared this before - but what the hey. I was working in a Sporting Goods store. In walks two men, beaming from ear to ear. At the counter, guy announces "I'm here to buy my brother (patting him on the shoulder) a trophy!".. "Cool, we can do that, what for?".. Excitedly he offers "He JUST got a hole in one!" "NICE!! Can I ask though, don't they usually give you something at the golf course when that happens?".. "Yeah, but, we snuck on so we couldn't tell them."

Tune in tomorrow, same golf channel, where we might discuss non-golf things us friends have done on the golf course in the past. We'll keep it PGa rated.

Love, Victurd.