I’m still the only woman on my golf club. As I think I’ve mentioned before, there are some dissenters but they seem to have been quieted. Over the last couple years, I guess I’ve gained the respect of most.
There’s one guy who was always the most annoying, the most vocal (and loud, at that) and verbally offensive. I get along with him well now. I still won’t play in his foursome or want to be in front of or behind his foursome because I’m not good enough to not let his antics distract my game. But after our tournaments, we get along just fine. I guess we’ve reached an understanding of sorts.
How do I get along with this pig?
First of all, I think he’s not as piggy underneath as all his bluster and BS on the outside seem to show. Second, I think he knows I understand that. Third, we’ve had enough run-ins that I think he sees where I’m coming from as well. Now when he gets out of line around me, I dress him down and he accepts it. Plus, he no longer adds fuel to my fire by showing how much that excites him. It seems to work.
I can see it now: Clemens throws a 98 mph heater (okay, make that 91) that sails by Miguel Tejada, who doesn’t even flinch. It was a close one, and the crowd goes quiet for a moment. Clemens shrugs and says “Nah, I missed it. That was a hair inside.” Tejada says “No way, man. You got me there.” They begin to argue, each one wanting to give up a call to the other side to gain the fans’ trust and the situation escalates into an all-out, bench clearing, steroid-rage-filled brawl. When the dust settles and several players are rushed to the hospital, eight of the men left standing eject themselves from the game for fighting and the skeleton crew left on the field tries it all again.
I’m pretty sure he meant while you’re holding the golf club and to do it with the sides of your arms. Not quite as titillating but probably more effective that way. I haven’t tried it yet but you know I will. I also don’t know if he was actually speaking to just the females or maybe there were some man-boobs in the crowd. Perhaps it’s just the motion of putting your upper arms closer together and keeping them there that works, so it really might work for anyone.
This hasn’t been a good year for either. Improvement? Ha. Winning? Double ha. We have our annual club awards banquet on Saturday after the Turkey Shoot and not a scrap will be added to my trophy wall. And my handicap went from 15.8 in January to a low of 14.5 in July and now it’s up to a 16.7. Blech.
Are you one of those poor suckers living where the weather prevents you from actually playing golf? Perhaps this will help on those cold winter days.
I can’t even beat Annika in my dreams!
I often dream about golf. Don’t we all?
Last night’s dream was exhilarating and frustrating at the same time. Apparently, I’m an underachiever when I’m sleeping.
The first part was imaginative and ambitious in that I was a good enough golfer to even be competing with Annika Sorenstam in the first place. I wasn’t a pro, but we were playing against each other in some kind of exhibition match.
We were down to the 18th hole and I had a real chance to win. Annika was already on the green (ha – I guess I outdrove her) so I needed to stick one close. My approach shot went long and ended up in a really tricky lie in a strange tuft of grass behind the green. I didn’t have any bunkers to deal with and I had plenty of green to use, but the lie was unpredictable. I needed to hole it out to secure a win or put it in tap-in distance and hope she missed her putt to push a tie-breaker. I ran it by about 15 feet. She missed her first putt and finished off with par. Now I had to make this putt to force the playoff.
Here’s where it gets psychologically interesting.
When I woke up I was terribly disappointed in myself for letting my mind concede and not winning. Go figure.
But thanks for the game, Annika.
Next post.