The Golfchick

That chick blabbing about anything golf related.

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The End Is Near : Maybe the Mayans Were Golfers

The end is near.  Wait a minute…Before you think I went all Harold Camping on you, I won’t be asking for donations to build a media campaign to inform the masses of the imminent apocalypse (unless of course you want to send me money, then I accept personal checks and PayPal).  But, back to the topic at hand.  The end is certainly near.  The Mayans were right you ask?  No, not that end either.  Justin Bieber still hasn’t reproduced, so we’re good for a while.  But, can you imagine the fun we could have if we knew for a fact the Mayans were in fact right, and we had 2 months left to plan and execute a militant type takeover of Augusta National, so we can all die knowing our bucket list was officially kicked?  And, since we’re in charge, we could get a fleet of carts, strap some stereos and kegs to them, and just have a good old time and watch the Green Jackets squirm?  Now I’m starting to hope the Mayans were right.  Anyone have any inside information that could be helpful?  Maybe I’ve had too much coffee this morning.

Seasons Exist

For those of us in a part of the world that experiences seasons, the end is most definitely near.  Since about March, (thank you Al Gore for inventing global warming) I have been treated to exponentially more days suitable for golf than weren’t.  Record heat and record drought resulted in more golfing days that ever before.  I don’t subscribe to the theory that it’s too hot to golf, so, many days I had the course almost to myself, except for the occasional fellow golf nerd I’d run into.  Golf outings could be planned days, weeks, even months in advance, because the chance of round-ruining weather was negligible at best.  There was enough light to golf well into the night, and I even heard a rumor that the sun was up and courses were open at close to 6am, but I can’t confirm that.  My social calendar was full, unavailable to anyone who wanted my time away from the game of golf.  I didn’t have to make plans, think of things to do on the weekends, or worry when my next round might get played.  In fact, I played so much golf, at times I’d convince myself to take some time away from the game, until after a few minutes I’d get bored and head to the course.  My days were filled with broad smiles and uncontrollable joy while playing, then rehashing, then planning the next round.  I was even told I was enjoyable to be around.  It was as close to heaven as a golf nut like myself can experience.

 

Image borrowed from http://www.worldend.org/2012/doomsday/pg1.html

The End of Times

Then, something happened.  It happens every year, but every year it seems to come earlier, and be more dramatic than the year before.  First, it gets darker earlier.  Then, the wind picks up and blows out of the north.  Then I find myself digging through the closet looking for a jacket to wear on the last few holes of the round.  Then the trees get sick.  The leaves turn a sickly brown color, and slowly start to fall off.  My Saturday morning tee time has to be pushed back, to allow for frost to clear off the greens.  My usual Thursday night game is cancelled because its raining and cold.  I stop practicing, my game loses its edge, but I don’t care anymore, because today could be the last round, so I want to enjoy it rather than grind out a score.  Then, one morning I wake up, and seemingly overnight every leaf that was once so healthy, green and proudly attached to the trees are all dead, laying on the ground, waiting for a bitter north wind to blow them away.  Sure, there will be a nice day here and there, and hopefully one of those nice days is on a weekend, so I can bundle up for a reunion with the 1st tee box.  But, when I get there, the grass is brown, and the course is but a shell of its former glorious self.  But, I’m a golf addict, and I slog ahead, still chasing whatever it is I’m chasing.

And now here I sit, staring out my window dreaming of the year that was.  Did I accomplish what I had hoped?  Did I put as much effort into my game that I should have?  Did I take time to enjoy the people I met, and get to know more of the other wonderful personalities that this incredible game has brought into my life?  Did I leave the course better than I found it?  Did I do anything to grow the game?  Did I enjoy the game like I did when I was a child, blissfully swinging and chasing that little ball with reckless abandon?  Winter’s coming, and I’ll have plenty of time to answer those questions, and put a plan in place to make 2013 the best year yet.  But, until then, the rain has slowed to a drizzle, my thermometer says its 45 degrees, and the wind has slowed to a manageable 25 mph gale; so if you’ll excuse me, I have an addiction to feed.  Because who knows, today could be the end.

[Editor’s note: Thanks, Levi. This may be the most depressing post about golf I’ve ever read. Unlike the zombie apocalypse and the 2012 Mayan prediciton, this annual golf apocalypse you speak of is no reason to party. My advice? Flee the state as soon as you can.]

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Why I Blame Vito that I Forgot My Golf Socks Today

Funny thing happened on the way to the golf course. Okay, on the way to the kitchen.

I’m minding my own business, getting ready for golf, drinking coffee, the typical routine…

When I’m not playing golf, my summer footwear is mostly snappers – you may know them as flip flops – so when I play golf I have to bring socks to put on when I change into my golf shoes at the course.  I normally grab some when I’m getting dressed in the closet and put them on the table by the front door. Did that as usual. Check.

The routine on any morning involves a nice walk with Vito. Check. (I missed a step here, a crucial step. But I’ll get to that in a minute.)

As I’m getting ready to leave, I’m on my way to the kitchen to grab the lid for my coffee cup and get a treat for Vito and … whooooooosh… my snapper slides across the floor, I slip and swear and wobble and catch my balance as, seemingly in slow motion, a tsunami of coffee goes flying from my mug.

It’s not until I’m on my hands and knees cleaning up the mess that I discover the culprit. The offending “object” that caused me to slip. When I saw it, I busted out laughing. Have you ever seen the movie Turner and Hooch? Well, there, lying on the tile, was a gigantic shoestring piece of slobber. Not mine. And Vito is my only roommate. Here’s where that crucial step in Vito’s walk I mentioned comes in. Vito is a big dog. With big jowls. Some levels of activity or excitement when we walk cause him to drool more than others. When I see he’s had one of those walks, I tickle his ear while we’re still outside so he shakes his head and tosses those goobers to nature. Either way, when we get inside, he goes to get a drink and I wipe his mouth with a jowl towel. Obviously, I missed the tickle step and he dropped his load in a dangerous spot before we reached his bowl.

It may have been my responsibility to get him to shake it off, but he should have had the courtesy to drop that honker in a low traffic area, or at least warn me about it. My routine was disrupted, then I was scrambling to not be late and forgot my socks. Thanks a lot, Vito.

Although, as my friend Ron said when I told him the story on the golf course, that would have been a funny coroner’s report. True. I didn’t split my head open. I like to imagine that my recovery was a lot more graceful and slo-mo matrixy than the panicky spazz it probably really was. Ultimately, the whole thing makes me giggle. And I got a new, comfy pair of Footjoy socks at the pro shop out of the deal.

Did I really just blog about dog slobber?

Goober Bliss

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Super Excited for the Fedex Cup. Wait…

I had that entirely wrong. I’m not at all excited for the Fedex Cup. Here’s why…

The final event, The TOUR Championship is being played this week, and will determine the winner of the Cup. If one of the top 5 guys wins, he wins the cup. Beyond that,  I need someone else to run the numbers for me and provide scenarios. What’s the fun in that? Do you think the players just trust the experts to know where they stand? It must be even more frustrating for them. For example, here is the scenario required for Luke Donald to win (produced by the PGA Tour and published in the Fedex Cup breakdown over at golfweek.com):

Now, just to make things even MORE confusing, take a look at the asterisks. Does that mean if those things happen, Luke will be in a tie for the Fedex Cup, and if so, with whom? Or, does that mean the results of the Fedex Cup have to be in before we can determine if he wins the Fedex Cup? My head hurts.

I’ve said Fedex Cup too many Fedexing times.

Remember, all these complicated calculations that we leave in the hands of the experts (and the seemingly arbitrary amount of points they earned in each event that put them in their current rank were determined by the same people) also decide the top 125 players to get their Tour Cards for 2013. Seems to me the Authority have a little too much power in this process. Sure hope they don’t have favorites!

In the spirit of offering solutions rather than just complaints, here’s my own stupid idea I proposed back in 2007.

What do you think of the whole Fedex Cup thing?

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The slow player, the oblivious, the under-achiever, and the parent.

Lots of things annoy me, I’m just that way.  I’m not sure if its because I think my way is better, or because I think your way is worse.  In fact, everyone annoys me.  Well, not you, but everyone else.  Maybe I shouldn’t say lots of things annoy me, maybe a better way to say it is EVERYTHING annoys me.  Every day, all day, I’m annoyed.  Like many, I spend some hours every day in an office.  Don’t get me started on everything that annoys me in there.  But, like a lot of people, I use the golf course to get away from the world.  Notice I didn’t say relax, because some days, and we all have them, golf just doesn’t seem relaxing.  Sure, every swing, every shot, every hole is an escape from life and without that escape, who knows where I’d be today.  But, when I’m on a golf course, I expect that the idiots that invade my life on a daily basis outside of golf won’t interfere with my life inside of golf.

All too often, I am dead wrong.

The slow player, the oblivious, the under-achiever, and worst of all – the parent.  

The Slow Player:

Most slow players don’t know they’re slow players.  Some do, and they pretend that they are trying to get faster.  Some do, and they frankly don’t give two shits about your opinion, because they’re good enough they think they’re allowed to be slow.  That accounts for about 20% of this annoying category.  Divide the remaining players up, and you’re left with a variety of individuals.  There’s the “I’m really good if I take my time and really focus on this shot, just not on that last shot, because I didn’t take enough time” guy.  85 shots later, he’s still not as good as he thinks he is.  Maybe after that 30 second pre-shot routine, you should have stood over the ball completely motionless for 60 seconds, instead of 45.  Those extra 15 seconds would have made all the difference.  Or, maybe you should have backed off the shot when you thought of all the bad shit that could result from your terrible pass at that poor little ball.  That ball did nothing to deserve being hit like shit, repeatedly, into places Paul Bunyan, Jacques Cousteau, Sir Edmond Hillary, or even that drunk college buddy you used to have would ever consider going into.  Please, for the love of all things holy, explain just what the hell you’re thinking about while you’re standing over the ball.  Does your heart  stop?  Do you stop breathing?  How in the hell can you remain motionless, in your “athletic address position” for so long without falling over?  Don’t your muscles tense up?  Doesn’t your brain stop working?  As my buddy says “What the hell are you worried about?  Just hit the damned ball, its gotta go somewhere!”  Well, I’ve seen you hit the shots, yes, I can confirm your brain stops working.  How do I know this?  Because, when you get to the green, you walk 20 yards from the cart to your ball that’s 10 feet off the green (after 4 shots), chip it onto the green, then walk all the way back to the cart to get your putter, then walk back to the green so you can promptly 3-putt (that last one was good) your way to a solid opening hole 8.  Play smarter, not harder.

The Oblivious:

Guess what, the later in the day it gets, the longer your shadow is.  Guess what else?  Get that shadow the hell out of my line.  Maybe it doesn’t bother you, but it bothers me.  If I wanted to deal with shadows, I’d hit my shots into the trees like you do.  Stepping in my line again?  I can forgive that once, because I understand reading a green is a foreign concept to you.  Rumor has it, that the slope of a green can affect the direction a ball rolls on the green, so, contrary to every putt you’ve ever hit in your life, they’re not all straight.  Stay the hell out of my line.  If you’re not sure, ask.  I won’t get mad, in fact, I’ll be happy you’re trying.  And after you figure out what my line is, how about using a coin to mark your ball.  Not a tee, not the little button from your golf glove (that you wear while putting), not a fucking poker chip, a coin.  You won’t lose it.  Unless it’s the size and texture of a blade of grass (most countries use some type of metal for coins), you’re not going to lose it.  With that covered, when I ask you to move your mark, don’t toss your entire putter on the ground and move your mark 3 feet the other direction.  Try the head of your putter, use an object in the distance as a reference point, and move it 3 inches one direction.  I’ll remind you to move it back, I promise.  And while I’m putting, feel free to answer that phone call, drop your putter, talk, sneeze, cough, laugh, or anything else you want to do because really, you’re the only one on the golf course, specifically that hole, so do as you please.  It’s your world, I’m just living in it.  Hey, don’t forget to move that mark back.

The Under-Achiever:

Go ahead, throw that club.  It’s the clubs fault, you did nothing wrong.  Your flawless golf swing and impeccable ball striking ability was hampered by that 6 iron getting in the way.  ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!?!  HOW DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?!?!  I’VE NEVER DONE THAT BEFORE!!!  Sure.  I bet.  You’re not good, you’re not just having a bad day,  just stop.  I can tell by watching you swing the club, you’re not fooling me.  Ty Webb, of Caddyshack fame, said it best – “You’re not, you’re not good Al.  You stink.”  If you think you’re good enough to get mad about being bad, you should be playing for money.  Not a $5 nassau using your 12 handicap strokes, money that you use to pay your damned bills with.  You hit 1 reasonably good shot out of the 110 you had that day, you’re really gonna be surprised when 109 of those shots don’t get hit how you had drawn up in your head?  Get over it.  You complaining, explaining what you were TRYING to do with that shot, and being angry it didn’t come off as you wanted isn’t going to impress me.  In fact, it’s going to make me consider driving the cart into the nearest pond, after I tie your leg to the floorboard, of course.

The Parent:

I’m all for parents getting involved in their kids lives, especially on a golf course.  Golf is first and foremost a game, meant to be played and enjoyed by people of all ages.  Go walk a few holes with your kid, carry some kid clubs in your bag, let him or her swing at the ball till they’re tired of it.  Laugh with them, encourage them, let them know you’re proud of them.  It was fun when we were kids, why not create new and great memories with your child on the golf course.  I’ve spent years teaching groups of grade school kids the game of golf.  The most important part, I’ve found, is encouraging them when they make good contact with the ball, and their eyes light up when they realize what they’ve just done.  Most kids don’t swear, but the reaction I see is “holy shit, what the hell, I just bashed the living shit out of that ball!!”  I don’t see a lot of parent/child interaction on the golf course, but I see way too much of it on the driving range.  I recently was at the tail end of a lengthy practice session, about an hour before dark, when a dad and son walked up to the range to his some balls.  The kid wasn’t very old, couldn’t have been more than 7 years old.  “Great,” I thought to myself, “The dad is gonna let the kid hit some balls into the setting sun, just to see them fly.”  Wow, was I wrong.  For an hour, the father berated that child for not hitting perfect shot after perfect shot.  Shots that I considered well struck for a 7-year-old weren’t anywhere close to good enough for the father.  The last place that kid wanted to be, as it got very close to dark, was on that driving range being told the things he needed to do better.  Pushing your kid to be good at golf isn’t going to negate that fact that you never lived up to your perceived potential.  At the end of the day, for everyone but that kid that night, it’s still a game.

What’s the point of this rant?  Well, nothing really.  The game of golf I’m obsessed with, the game that consumes my life, the game that is my escape from the world, is increasingly invaded by morons.  I’m not saying I’m perfect, because everyone knows that can never be true.  I have my quirks and annoying habits, and those most likely aren’t going anywhere.  I like to think that those idiosyncrasies don’t show up on the golf course, and if they do, I keep them to myself.  But, chances are, I annoy you, and I’m adult enough to admit it.  After all, it’s your world, and I’m just living in it.  Take notes, someday perhaps you can use me for inspiration for an angry golf blog post.

*Editor’s note: Wow, Levi, didn’t take you long to use your new outlet for an indulgent rant. You truly are a blogger now. :)

Next post.

Royal and Awesome Contest Winners Announcement!

We had some fun photo entries over on The Golf Chick Facebook page for the Royal and Awesome golf attire contest! Thanks to all who played and voted! I also appreciate the likes, votes, emails and tweets about who should win. They may have influenced my decision, but ultimately, I just picked who I picked. I may have mentioned this was going to be an arbitrary, not mathematical, contest! :)

So, without further ado… here are the winners:

John Snider …… wins a pair of trousers! (Multiple entries that were all fun but my favorite was the cart in the muck! Don’t drink and drive, kids, don’t even putt.)

Steve Antilla ….. wins a pair of shorts! (Within inches of an ace. If we all had shorts for every one of those…!)

Fiona Payne ….. wins a cap! (Amazing 40′ putt, but to snap a photo and see the track on the green? Royally awesome!)

Congratulations to all! Email me at kristen (at) thegolfchick (dot) com and I we can sort out the fulfillment details. I hope when you receive them you’ll post pics back on the FB page or send them to me so I can share them. Thanks again for playing, and enjoy your new duds!

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“Lights Out” No Frills Night Golf Tournament!

Have you ever played night golf? I don’t mean twilight golf or even “oh crap, the sun went down but let’s try to finish this hole with our flashlights and cellphones” golf. I mean full blown, tee off after dark on an unlit course on purpose, using whatever means we can including glow balls, night golf! I haven’t, but I’ve been dying to try it! Now I may get my chance, and so can you!

On Friday, September 28, 2012, The Loving Heart Hospice Foundation is hosting the 2nd annual “Lights Out” No Frills 9 Hole Scramble Golf Tournament. The event will take place at Simi Hills Golf Course and is being organized by Simi Valley City Council Member Barbra Williamson.

There will be no banquet, no raffle, no awards, auction, or goodie bags. Just good ol’ golf (at night), a putting and chipping contest, and buy your own food and beer at the course.  BYOS (Bring Your Own Shenanigans)! All proceeds go straight to the Loving Heart Hospice Foundation, which supports terminally ill, low income hospice patients.

Individual player entry is a flat $80, and extras go up from there including the usual different levels of sponsorship up to $350.

You can use this form to register, or just flat out donate if you’re feeling generous but can’t or don’t want to participate. Registration goes through September 21st, 2012.

I’m going to try to make it out to this event because it sounds like fun and for a great cause! Will you be there?  It’s a scramble, after all, so if you get too frustrated by the darkness, you’ll have backup.  Sounds like a gentle and friendly way to try night golf for the first time!

Hello. My Name is Levi, and I’m an Addict.

Editor’s Note: I’m excited to announce the introduction of guest bloggers to The Golf Chick Golf Blog! This is the inaugural post, and I’m happy to present Levi Slings as our first alternate perspective. I love his first entry and am eager to have him start sharing even more of his thoughts here with us! Welcome, Levi, and thank you! 

Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEVI!

_________________________________________

I feel as though I should be sitting in a semi-circle, eating stale doughnuts, sipping on burnt lukewarm coffee, and staring at my shoes while I write this. Hello. My name is Levi and I’m an addict.

I’m addicted to the highs, I despise the lows. When the high wears off, I do everything imaginable, and some things once unthinkable, to regain those highs. I have no one to blame but myself. Golf has consumed my life. Hello. My name is Levi, and I’m an addict.

Let me introduce myself, hopefully that will put my addiction in perspective. I’m a 30 year old single guy, scratch golfer, hopelessly in love with the game of golf. I play competitively, (well, I enter tournaments anyway) and no matter the embarrassment and pain, I keep entering, and I keep fighting to make cuts. I’m addicted to what could be. I’m an amateur golfer, which means I play for pride and pride only. How I have any pride left is beyond me. I grew up playing golf, a father who ran a golf course, and a mother who was happy to let that course be my babysitter. I learned the game on the fly. I’ve never had a formal lesson, as a child of the course, I had 2 goals… play as many holes as I could each day, and get the ball into the hole in as few shots as possible. Looking back, this is where it all went wrong. Ask me today what I’d like to spend each and every day doing, my answer will be the same. As many holes as I can play in as few shots as possible. Hello. My name is Levi, and I’m an addict.

The game of golf has destroyed my body, my relationships, and any other activity that threatened to become a hobby. I own a fishing pole, a tennis racket, a motorcycle, hell, I even own a lawnmower. Ask me when I last used any of those things? Nice enough outside to fish…nice enough to golf. I’d go for a motorcycle ride, but what if I come across a golf course I’ve never seen, and want to play it? It takes 30 minutes to mow my yard…how many practice putts can I make in a half hour? For the past 6 years, I endured crippling lower back pain, especially during golf. Did this ever stop me? Hell no. Last October I finally underwent surgery, and while it was an overwhelming success, it allowed me to play unlimited pain-free golf again. So was it really a success? Hello. My name is Levi, and I’m an addict.

Levi Slings GolfI’m not one to brag, I certainly don’t feel worthy of the attention. But, for perspective, in the past week, my scores have ranged from 67 to 83, on the same damned par 72 golf course. Unfortunately, both ends of that spectrum make me want to play more. What the hell is wrong with me? A few weeks ago, I even attempted to go on a date. It was planned that I’d pick her up at 7pm. That left me just enough time to play a few holes at my club. Birdie. Par. Birdie. Birdie. Birdie. Oh crap… I’m 4 under thru 5, and I’ve gotta pick this girl up in a little while. I figured I could get through 6 holes and have to leave. Then, the Golf Gods smiled on me. I got a text saying she was running late; let’s plan for 7:30. I’VE GOT TIME FOR MORE GOLF!!! Par. Birdie. -5 thru 7. I’ve never shot in the 20s, and 29 was in sight. 2 years ago, I played with a buddy who shot 30-32 to set the course record. That’s some rarified air, and I was bumping up against that ceiling. I played my heart out, but could only muster 2 pars coming in, for a 5 under par 31. In an extremely uncharacteristic moment of clarity, I never once considered playing the back 9 to go for that course record, because I had a date. My focus certainly wasn’t on the date later that night. Needless to say, there wasn’t a second date, and I’ll have to live with that regret the rest of my life. Regret that I didn’t put enough effort into that date to see what could have been? Hell no. Regret that I didn’t ditch her ass and play the back 9. Hello. My name is Levi, and I’m an addict.

My weekly playing partners range from multiple time Tour winners, fledgling pros, nationally ranked amateurs, guys like me chasing cuts, lifetime bogey golfers, guys who broke 100 once, beginners, and every possible iteration of golfers in between. Every single one of us is chasing the same thing, and for some reason, we never quit. We chase that little white ball around like our lives depend on it. Really, what are we chasing? Chasing the feeling of a perfectly executed shot? Chasing the reward of signing the card that proves our personal best round? Chasing happiness, clarity, diversion, solitude, anger, confusion, stress, or joy? I, for one, am chasing every single one of those things. I’m guessing we all are. I’m going to keep playing, keep entering tournaments, keep risking embarrassment, keep chasing those feelings…. at all costs. Hello. My name is Levi, and I’m an addict.

___________________________________

Another editor’s note: WELCOME, LEVI! Here’s your first day chip! We’re not anonymous, we are identified. We’ll talk about golf to anyone who will listen. We’re addicts and our golf tans are badges of honor. Happy to know you.

One shot at a time. Keep coming back!

 Golfers Identified first day chip

 

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Contest Time – Who Wants Some Royal and Awesome Golf Attire?

Want some free golf apparel? I have some to give away to a few readers!

The London 2012 Olympics looked like a roaring success. If you follow me on the twitters, you probably know that the electricity I saw in the street interviews and the interaction from the international community on social media was lost in translation for me due to the double time delay by NBC. By the time any of the games actually aired here in Southern California, I’d seen the results as well as reactions, descriptions and commentary from the live airing and the East Coast USA airing. As a consequence, I didn’t watch much of the games even when I turned them on, and with a lack of attention, it’s hard to get caught up in the emotion and enthusiasm. Why the Olympic digression in this golf apparel contest post? Well, if you saw the men’s beach volleyball, you surely didn’t miss the US team’s loud attire! They were sponsored and dressed by Loudmouth Golf, designer of some of the most unmistakable looks you’ll find on a golf course. It used to be if you saw a bright, loud design, you’d think “oh, that’s Loudmouth!” Now, you may have to think again. 

That’s Not Loudmouth

While the United States brings us the USGA and Loudmouth Golf, Europe brings us the R&A and Royal and Awesome golf trousers. Both apparel companies’ products are available internationally. Only one sent me samples that I am now going to pass along to you! That would be…

Royal and Awesome golf trousers! “For the pars and the bars.”

R and A trews

They don’t seem to make or sell women’s styles yet but I have one of each of the above (not those exact styles) to give away. Want to win a pair of trousers, shorts or a hat?

How to enter

Let me know over on my golfchick facebook page that you want one of them by posting a picture of something wild, fun & interesting on a golf course. Can be your own outfit, a crazy face, bizarre lie, weird or funny shrubbery… you get the idea. Be sure to indicate your desire for some Royal and Awesome swag! Once I get enough to choose from, I’ll select some winners and we can discuss it further here in the comments and/or over there. This is a totally casual, loose contest, entirely subjective to however I decide to choose (I may be influenced!) so just have fun with it and be creative! Hope to see you there!

Oh, and if for some reason you don’t want to win, I still encourage you to join in and share some crazy pics! :)

UPDATE: Royal and Awesome stopped in on my FB post and let us know they’ve got women’s pieces coming out in early September! Also, as of noon today (8/15), not a single entry has been submitted to win these. That makes me sad. No one wants to win??? I will update this post if/when the prizes are gone, so unless you see it, the contest is still open!

UPDATE: Good news: the contest for the Royal & Awesome duds is still going on, and the nice people there have told me you’ll be able to pick your style & size (including new women’s line and larger men’s sizes coming out next week)! 

So keep those pics coming on TGC Facebook page. And please help me decide on winners by clicking like and commenting on others! 

There will be 3 winners, one pair of pants, one shorts or skort, and one hat!

Next post.

Golf is a Man. He Abuses Me, But I’m Staying With Him.

Golf must be a man, because he’s so frustrating! He pleases and punishes. Can’t live with him, can’t kill him. Just when I think we have one issue sorted out, another one arises. If golf wasn’t hard challenging, I wouldn’t be interested. As far as I know, there’s no shelter for abused golfers and besides, the way I’ve been playing, it seems more like I’m the abuser – but golf had it coming!

In my open letter to golf, I declared my love for him and many of the reasons I feel the way I do. It has been a torrid love affair since then. We’ve had our differences for sure, but there are few conditions that will keep me away from golf. I even appreciate a sloppy, wet round. When conditions aren’t ideal for going out, I always want them to be. I can’t think of a time I haven’t wanted to play golf or wished I could when I couldn’t! I recently experienced a new level of that obsession. Last weekend, I actually dreaded going out to play golf.  It wasn’t the weather, which couldn’t have been more perfect, and it wasn’t a personal distraction or some kind of illness or injury. It wasn’t a mandatory business round with some kind of douchebag, it was with friends whose company I really enjoy. No, the whole reason I was sour for the entire 24 hours leading up to my tee time was because I was incredibly disheartened due to my own ineptitude. Yet there was no way I wasn’t going. I was still absolutely compelled to get out there, like the true sadomasochist golf has made me.

flagellator

My newest golf training aid

State of the Union

For about a year now, I’ve been struggling with “The Process.” You know, the one when you make a swing change and nothing will ever be the same? I want to get better. The goal is to break 80. My scores ballooned and now I don’t remember the last time I even broke 90, and it’s a “good” day when I break 100. At first, I was okay with that – it was somewhat expected, though aggravating all the same. I had breakthroughs and saw improvement. I had hope. Even when I sucked or regressed, I was convinced I could power through and it would all be worth it. Then it became embarrassing. And infuriating. And counter-productive.  Bad thoughts didn’t just creep in, they infested my brain.

I’m keenly aware of the mental aspect of golf and understand these thoughts are debilitating and feed on themselves. Like any golfer, I have plenty of reasons/excuses why this is happening, like my focus being challenged with stresses and my patience being sapped by other aspects of my life. But I know that’s bullshit. I know what I’m capable of and I take pride in my ability to adjust my mindset and change my mind with authority. But this was brutal. I was in a golfer’s shame spiral.

The last few times I’ve played, I’ve managed to hit a few shots that were decent enough to allow me to cling to hope. On the range, it’s been a different story. Perhaps it’s because the good shots don’t really show results, but they became fewer and fewer until I could barely hit a ball at all. Topping it, shanking it, yanking it, worm burning it, spraying it every which way — everything but even the hint of good contact with my irons. After all that work! I went to the course on Saturday with the intention of playing 18 if I could hit a few good shots on the range. I couldn’t. It was a complete nightmare. It finally came crashing down to destroy me mentally.

I have never felt less athletic or more uncoordinated in my life. Humiliated, defeated, and utterly disheartened, I was actually a little nervous at the thought of lifting my bag and carrying it to my car, in case this palsy would affect my ability to walk as well. I managed to make the walk of shame without falling or freezing up and drove home holding back tears. I know – there’s no crying in golf! But that’s how much it means to me.

Thank You, Sir, May I Have Another?

This is where the dread comes in. I had agreed to join my friends the next day for a Sunday Funday round. Though we never mentioned it, we all knew we would also be practicing for our club matches at the same course the following weekend. After feeling like I hit rock bottom (that better be the lowest!), I planned to arrive early enough to give myself a nice, unrushed hour of time on the range, with highest hopes of sucking less, and lowest pathetic goal of just making solid contact a few times to boost my spirits so I could be a fun golfer for my friends. I left home with enough time to carry out that plan, but an overturned semi on the freeway shutting down all lanes had a better idea for me.

Best Laid… Plans

After taking a back way through a winding canyon, I made it to the course right at tee time, checked in & raced to the tee just as my friends finished their drives. So, with nothing but the practice swing of my drive routine, I started my round. Decent drive, just off the fairway to the right, about 150 uphill left to the flag. With an easy swing I made the green with my next shot and two putted for par. What. The. Fuck. It was as though I forgot that I couldn’t play golf. The rest of the round had its ups and downs, much like a normal golf round, not a disastrous one. I made some really good shots, several hard pulls (which had been my primary miss until I started not making contact), and some irritating short game shots including at least 4 3-putts, but was more than pleased with my round of 92.

On the last four holes, I hit three great drives up the middle and 4 solid shots onto the greens. I really felt like I had something figured out on those iron shots. When the round was over, all I wanted to do was go hit another golf ball, and another one after that, but Sir Vito was waiting for me.

We Can Work It Out

I am encouraged, and am holding onto these positive feelings! In case I’m stupid enough to start thinking again, I hope that the simple swing thought I used on those last four holes continues to be effective. Sometimes I can successfully fake my brain out like I’m too naive to the game to understand what’s happening but I think it’s time I give up that tactic. I’m not falling for my own shit anymore. Golf is a man. He tries to act like he doesn’t care about me but I know he doesn’t want me to leave him. Now we’re both mature enough to know that if we want it to be, and I’m patient enough, this partnership will be amazing. If we can get through this, we can get through anything.

Golf can be an asshole, but I’m in love. And I’m not going anywhere.

Next post.

Ball Marks, Beers and Boobs

This afternoon I played a quick emergency 9 at beer:30 with a beginning golfer friend of mine. It seems to be becoming a weekly thing for us. Yes, he’s right obsessed, like the rest of us. I am proud to take credit for luring him into our world.

We played at the local pitch n putt where he actually has a decent shot of besting me on any given day. (Sorry about today, Ron, golf is hard. And cruel. Welcome to it.)

turfkey

During the round, I tweeted this “action pic” and expressed my delight over the multifunctional brilliance of the fabulous tool.

Turns out I’m not the only one who thought the little gadget was actually a fantastic idea and a necessity for any drinker with a golfing habit. Some folks expressed interest on the twitters so I figured it might be nice to provide some more info, and here it is.

Save the Greens, Save the Tatas

That’s right, finally that same simple tool you keep in your pocket while you play golf does more than just repair your ball marks. It also opens your bottles. I was never that clever MacGyver type who could deftly pop a bottle top with my lighter, and now that I don’t carry one that’s not even an option to struggle with when needed.

I get a lot of funky golf gadgets but this one actually spends rounds in my pocket. I love it. It’s called a Turf Key.

Repair your ball mark, open your beer, and contribute to a good cause when you opt for the pretty Pink Turf Key For a Cure.

Still not handy enough? Don’t forget you can always use a tool like this to rest your club on so your grip doesn’t get wet. Or even stick your cigar in there while you putt. Oh, how about cleaning your cleats? So much usefulness in such a simple design! To make it even handier, there’s a hole at the end so you can attach it to your key chain if you want to show off your golf nerdiness everywhere you go.

The cute little tool also comes in other colors like blue, yellow and standard silver, with or without the bottle opener (although I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t want that option for the same low price).

Turf Keys and Tri-Tee

The same company also makes the patent pending “Tri-Tee.” I keep forgetting to try this little bugger but I maybe now that I’m writing this I will think of it my next time out! It certainly seems like an interesting “zero friction” idea. If you’ve tried it, please let me know what you think.

You can get all these items for yourself on the Turf Key website, and they also have low wholesale pricing, racks and it looks like a nice POP display if you want to sell them in your shop.

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