I played 18 holes yesterday afternoon with my boss, and his boss, and another boss. It was a really great time. Well, other than the golfing part.
I golf maybe once or twice a year, and it's typically some organized best-ball scramble event where lots of beers are consumed and lots of laughter is generated. And, because I'll typically have one good shot per hole, I'm a decent member of a best-ball foursome.
But playing 18 holes in a foursome and playing my own ball the whole time?
The other three guys were bumming when they double-bogeyed a hole. The couple double-bogeys I had were miraculous. I even bogeyed one par-3, though a real golfer would have parred it with the drive and chip to within four feet of the hole I had. But no, those were anomalies. My drives were flying... to the left and to the right. After almost every drive (and I always hit last), I'd hear the same thing from the guys standing behind me.
"Where'd it go?" I'd ask.
"To the right."
"You'll probably want to drop."
But, lucky for me, the other guys weren't typical uptight golfers and we still had some fun. Plus, no one is going to laugh at me harder than me.
The best part of the day, however, was when one of the course monitors was sitting in his cart watching us, waiting to tell us we needed to move things along, and I had a 110-yard chip that landed about 3 feet from the hole. As I was walking to the hole, he said, "Nice putt," then asked us to pick up the pace a bit. Then he drove off.
And I three-putted.