Hole Once More

The first was short, low, ugly and lost. The second, I didn't even see. Welcome back to the wonderful world of golf.

Having been laid low by my back surgery, four months later I was given clearance to begin my battles anew. Maybe, I should have waited a little longer.

I was instructed to only play 9 holes initially. I did not even last that long, and to be quite honest, it had nothing to do with any recurring pain as I had none. It was the psychic battering that drove me from the course.

I had decided only to play every other hole, so as to not place undue strain on my back. The best part of this experience turned out to be the holes I did not play.

I met my friends as they finished the second hole. By the time the third green was in sight, I had already advised each of them as to the specifics of my surgery. I figured that would, at least in some small measure, explain the dribbles, the mishits and the shanks as I tried to follow the bouncing ball. It made embarrassing take on a whole new meaning.

The wind seemed to blow its hardest as I was in the middle of my backswing. The ball, when it did go in flight, seemed totally unimpressed with the force I tried to impart upon it. Is that the best you got, it seemed to say.

By the time we reached the 8th hole (and only the fourth I was playing) I was hoping for rain. My tee shot headed in directions unrelated to the fairway. I had felt the smallest of twinges upon completion of the swing. I announced that I was already through for the day, as I had courageously made one too many efforts to prove how tough I was. I gingerly entered the cart (to emphasize the point) and rode with my friends until the 9th green, where I bid them a fond farewell.

I was invited to join them for future adventures, but I know they were just being nice. This has been the lost season and now it had the perfect imperfect ending. Wait til next year is all that is left at this point. I am uncertain whether that is a promise or a threat.