In the Masters? – Nope. No Golf. Not This Year
Not Going to the Masters
What did they tell me when I asked about playing in the
Masters? Nope. Not this year – or any. You’re not even in the PGA. Who
was I informed by? My old golfing boss
who ran the golf driving range where I had worked. Twice I asked him why and the third time he
told me: “Well, when you putt you are
trying to putt straight, just like you are shooting arrows.” He said, “with all
your practice you’d think you would be getting closer to the hole.” But I wasn’t.
I still hadn’t learned to hook properly either on the greens or on the
fairways. At least I don’t cry after my
sixth putt to the flag.
(golf painting speed painting time lapse demo 35 seconds)
The fairway – I
don’t spend much time there. I’m usually
off to looking for my golf ball on either the left or right side of all that
nice green grass. And I walk the course,
never using a caddy. I have enough
people in a foursome to laugh at my play – I don’t want to be paying for one
more person to join in on the laugh track.
I lug that bag myself – with two ball retrievers – just in case I break
one.
I’m not saying I don’t take my game seriously. I do – I do everything possible to lower my
scores. I go to the driving range almost
every day to hit a bucket of balls, bouncing them off of the golf picker out
around a hundred and sixty yards - which is about as far as I can drive a ball. I take
lessons from a golf pro. At least I
think he is a pro because he does wear Bermuda shorts. And the best thing I do to lower my score is
to cheat. Yeah, cheat. Some days you’d think I was playing soccer
out there, the way I can kick a ball around.
And I am good with a pencil too.
I certainly know how to add. But
I am much, much better at subtraction.