I went home this past weekend, to see my parents, but also just to get out of the house. I’ve been inflicted with a case of cabin fever recently.
Of course, like all other times I went home, we played golf. Saturday, I played with five men: my father, two uncles, and two friends of theirs. Each one could drive a ball over 270 yards easily. My dad said to me as we drove up to the first tee, “I’m the worst of the five of us, by far.” My dad has shot 90 before.
Needless to say, this was just a smidge intimidating.
So as we finished up with the first hole (which I thankfully didn’t embarrass myself on), it was decided that we’d play a scramble because playing with six can be pretty slow as it is, and I might just hold us up even more.
We approached the second hole, and I was just hoping that I’d be able to do something for the team and not slow us down to a crawl. The second hole is a par-3, 162 yards. I had never put the ball on the green from the tee before in all the times I’d played it. I pulled out my 5-iron and hoped for the best. “All right, Brandon. Same downward swing angle as upswing…clip the tee.” Whack.
The ball flew in a beautiful arc and came to a stop 20 feet from the hole.
One of my uncles, who on the previous day shot 79 after not having played in weeks, shouted out, “That’s my partner!”
I definitely played better than I ever have before, which was nice. I’ve discovered golf’s a lot more enjoyable when you hit fairways and greens. 🙂 After we played the 18-hole scramble, my dad and a friend and I played another nine holes, where I shot 55 playing my own ball. That’s five strokes better than I’d ever done before over nine holes.
So maybe I’ll never be Phil Mickleson, but maybe I’ll reach that 90 over a full round one day.
