This weekend was going to be so different. 

A few weeks ago we had plans to play on Father’s Day.

The weather had been hot. It had been sunny. We were so optimistic this weekend was going to be just like recent ones.

Well, the rain had other plans.

I got a text from Dad on Friday. “Sunday’s out. Weather keeps getting worse.”

I was so bummed. It’s Father’s Day. My Dad’s favorite thing to do in the world is golf.

But Saturday wasn’t as bad.

He said “we could play tomorrow?”

Am I going to say no? It’s Father’s Day weekend. Of course we’re going to play. Rain or shine. 

So Saturday it was. But that did not come without its share of challenges.

First was the cost. Every holiday it seems golf courses have an excuse to raise rates. And when you get a cart, it’s even worse.

We managed. It’s hard to watch all that money leave your account in one shot. Your round isn’t’ tangible. You don’t get to keep it.

And it’s worse when you play bad. Like… I paid money for this?

There should be a shirt that says “I went to play golf and all I came back with was this lousy t-shirt and a scorecard that says I shot 106.”

But it’s the price of entry.

Then it was on to the range.

But this warm up session was different. This range session was… ugly. Why?

We didn’t practice yesterday.

You see, Dad and I have a tradition. We go to the range the day before a round. Whether we play Saturday and go Friday, or we play Sunday and go Saturday.

It’s like clockwork.

Not this weekend. And it showed. 

On the Range

I was pushing the ball. I was hooking the ball. I was hitting it straight. It was a nightmare.

Golfer’s need consistency. They need something they can rely on. 

We’re an odd bunch as it is. Take away our security blanket and we’re lost.

And this morning… I had nothing.

I was trying to remember everything I had worked on. Fully extend after contact. Stay on balance. Keep your hips back through contact. 

The only problem was that it didn’t come to me until halfway through the range session.

But by the end of it I felt like I had something. 

Once the range session was over, we still had quite a bit of time.

Thankfully we were at the course early enough to chip and putt. And I learned a few new things there.

First, putting while looking at the hole makes me more accurate. It’s weird to do. But it works. 

Secondly, I read something the other day that said “swing the club like you would swing a mallet”. So I tried it. For some reason, it works. 

I was drilling the ball throughout the round. But we’re not there yet. 

First we have to make it to the first tee. 

And when we do, wow. 

“Now on the Number 1 Tee…”

We were greeted by two people. An older gentleman. Very nice guy. Didn’t say much but was enjoyable to play with.

Seemed to be in his late 50’s-early 60’s. Full head of short silver hair. Looked freshly cut. Was wearing sunglasses, which I thought was odd. It wasn’t bright. It looked like it could rain at any minute. All day.

But he wasn’t who I was focused on.

The other person was the man’s daughter. She was… Gorgeous.

Long auburn colored hair. A little tan. And looked to be in good shape. She was very attractive from a “candy coating” perspective.

She was also very nice. Not too talkative, but that’s ok. She’s playing with people she doesn’t know. I get that.

Now, as a guy, the last thing you want to do is duff the first tee shot when there’s a pretty girl around.

And I just had the most terrible range session I’ve had in months. 

Needless to say, I’m nervous. And it gets worse.

Dad and I have this tradition. Dad tosses a tee in the air and whoever it points at when it lands is who leads off.

Guess who gets to go first?

I pull out my hybrid. This is one of the clubs I hit the worst on the range. So of course I pick that one. Why? Because I’m a masochist. That’s why.

I put the tee in the ground and all I’m hoping for is to keep it in bounds.

Now, let me just say, I’m sure the girl doesn’t care. Like, at all. But guys can do dumb stuff when there’s females involved. Anyways.

I swing.

And drill it right down the middle. 

I’m surprised. And relieved. 

Especially based on the fact I almost hit someone’s house on the range about 20 minutes earlier.

After I pull my tee out of the ground I glance over at the girl.

She’s talking to her dad not paying attention.

Seems my intuition was correct. Oh well. At least now I can relax a little.

Dad gets up and puts a little draw on his ball. It lands in the left hand rough.

Now the other two have to hit. I can only imagine what that’s like. It doesn’t happen to us too often where we play with someone significantly better than us. And I’m not trying to brag or be a jerk. I’m calling it as I see it.

The gentleman hooks his ball into the bushes on the left, but we’re able to find it. The girl hits a light fade that lands in some marsh on the right. I think. I don’t quite remember. And we were off.

The Round that Was… And Wasn’t

The front side I played pretty well. Dad had challenges. 

It was just one of those days where ya just don’t have it. But when we don’t follow our routine, we’re asking for challenges.

I won’t bore you with the round recap. But, I had a few takeaways.

One, it’s fun to cheer on someone who doesn’t have a whole lot of belief in their ability. The girl hadn’t played in a year. But she hit some really great shots today.

And two, your range session doesn’t determine your round. I had a bad session. And I played the front nine 5 over.

You can figure it out. Sometimes it just takes longer than you’d like for it to.

Oh… One more thing.

Where the Wild Things Are

The crows were out in full force today.

I should’ve known too. 

Before the round, I’m sitting in the cart right in front of the club house. I’m browsing my phone and I hear some ruffling on my right. 

I turn to see a crow digging through what looks like a goody bag in another cart. A guy came and chased it off and said “they were looking for food weren’t they?”

Well they weren’t looking for the lost city of Atlantis my man. What do you think?

Anyways.

About hole 12, the crows must have sent text messages to one another because they found our playing partner’s food.

Not once, but twice I tried to chase down the crows stealing something out of their cart.

If I could get it back for the girl, I’d be the hero. Right?

Both times I failed. Mostly due to the fact that I had forgotten that crows can fly much faster than humans can run. At least this human.

But what they stole, I was unsure about.

The first was a plastic bag, which I overheard had crumbs leftover from a sandwich.

The second time I tried to chase the crow down, it looked like it snatched a bag of chips.

It was apple chips. Or something like that.

Look, I’m all for healthy. I could stand to eat healthier myself. But apple chips? Not my cup of tea. 

I honestly doubt the crows were interested once they got the bag opened.

They tried to find something in our cart at one point, but we’ve learned. I once had a squirrel pull open a zipper on my bag and steal my sandwich. I’ve been violated in the past. I’ve learned.

We know how to keep our food stored so that wildlife can’t play “what’s in here?”.

We walked away unscathed. This time. There will be more battles in the future.

For today, I walked away with two victories. One on the course and one in my mind.

I beat Dad. It seems rude to do on Father’s Day weekend, but we’re competitive. We want to beat the other person.

And I got to enjoy a round of golf while cheering on a beautiful girl. It’s hard to have a bad day when those two things happen.

Maybe things turning out differently wasn’t so bad after all.