Lousy at Lionhead

If you step up to the first tee at a golf course and pull three consecutive balls into irretrievable territory, how do you expect that round to play out? Let me ask the same question in a different way. If you add six strokes to your card before you even tee up your first ball, what kind of score do you think you'll achieve?

If you need me to answer, then you're not a golfer. An idiot perhaps, but not a golfer. That's not to say that golfers can't be idiots. In fact, we may be the biggest idiots of all. Why else would we subject ourselves to this cruel sport, and pay handsomely for the privilege?

The scenario I described took place during my last round at Lionhead Golf & Country Club. It was my first visit to the club and I was playing the Masters course. After I launched the first ball into oblivion, the starter said something about taking a Mulligan. Let me be clear about something. I don't take Mulligans. I may suck as a golfer, but at least I count every stroke I take, including penalties. So thanks very much for the suggestion Mr. Starter, but no thanks.

I could go on an on describing all the terrible shots I had throughout the round, but why bother? What good would that do? I could also cherry pick the few good shots I made and talk about those, but to what end? The fact of the matter is I suck. I have a respectable round once in a blue moon, but it doesn't change the fact that I suck. I can't drive the ball consistently. I can't hit my irons regularly. My chipping and putting comes and goes. I don't have the mental strength to put bad shots behind me. Basically, I suck in every facet of the game.

I play a lot. It makes no difference. I practice. It makes no difference. I take lessons. It makes no difference. I read books, magazines, and other articles. It makes no difference. I buy better equipment. It makes no difference. I watch and listen to those who play better than I do. It makes no difference. Nothing makes a differnce. When you suck, you suck, and that's all there is to it.

So I suck, but at the end of this round I hit a new low. You see, I was playing with a friend of mine, a single-digit handicapper who I've played with many times. In all the times we had played together, I had never given him a single piece of golf advice. I never commented on his setup or swing. I never even suggested what club he should hit, or what line he should take. Why would I? It would make absolutely no sense for a single-digit handicapper to take advice from me, just like it wouldn't make sense for me to accept advice from a 30 handicapper.

For some reason though, I decided this time that I would weigh in on his birdie putt on the eighteenth hole. He had pretty much settled on a line that started the ball one cup width left of the hole. I convinced him that left edge of the cup was enough. He proceeded to hit the ball exactly on the line I suggested, and with perfect weight. Of course, the ball missed just right of the hole. His initial read turned out to be the right one. Thanks to my lousy advice, he finished with a score of 78, instead of 77.

Needless to say, that will be the first and last bit of advice I ever give him. It's bad enough that I poison my own game, there's no need for me to punish those who can actually play.

As an extra slap in the face, my average score is now over 100 for the first time in the 2008 season. It took twenty rounds, but there you go. Pathetic!

Score: 113
Par: 72
Putts: 37
Fairways: 6
Greens: 1