That golf can be exhilarating one moment and depressing the next is no secret. If you've read this blog long enough, you've seen ample evidence of both extremes. What never fails to surprise me, however, is the speed at which the tides can turn. My latest round, a return to Bloomington Downs after a five year hiatus, was not a collapse of the type I experienced recently at Copetown Woods, but it nevertheless demonstrates the fickle nature of this glorious game.
Over the three rounds played before this one, a few aspects of my game were dialed in. By taking a step back with my right foot at address, I had tamed my driver, delivering tee shots that were straight and plenty deep. At Copetown Woods, for example, I hit a number of 290-yard drives straight down the fairway. Besides my driver, I was also in control of my wedges, delivering chip shots very near the cup and finishing with more up and downs than usual. I was chipping by feel, rather than thinking too much. Despite those strengths, I still wasn't scoring well, all because of poor iron play. I was fighting the tendency to hook shots, even with high lofted clubs.
My iron troubles continued at Bloomington Downs, as I was unable to hit a single green in regulation. It's not like I didn't have the opportunities; I simply missed approach shots from all distances. On the par-5 first hole, I missed the green with my third shot from the fairway at 130 yards. On the par-4 second hole, I missed with my second shot from the fairway at 95 yards. That miss came after a brilliant 3-iron from the tee that travelled 210 yards. On the par-3 third hole, I missed with my tee shot from 160 yards. Some misses were hooks, while others were pushes to the right as I over-compensated.
To make matters worse, my driving and chipping suddenly abandoned me. On the front nine, my drives were all smothered, travelling left of target and extremely short. It was like I could not get the ball airborne. Thankfully, I turned the driving situation around on the back nine, but that is when my chipping became terrible. More on that in a moment.
I played the front nine alongside another player, with a foursome ahead of us. Two of the four called it quits after nine holes, allowing myself and my partner to join up with the two who continued on. On hole #10, a par-5 measuring 470 yards, I finally hit a spectacular drive. With a slight wind helping, I smacked a towering 300-yard drive to the right fairway. The hole bends slightly left, so my ball actually traveled through, ending a couple of yards in the right rough. As I bent over to pick up my tee, I heard one of my new playing partners whisper to the other, “He smoked that one.” What a feeling!
As luck would have it, my lie in the rough was not great. My 7-iron failed to reach the green. Then, I duffed a chip, so I wasn't even on the green in regulation. Can you believe that? Bogey was the result. It was to be the start of a bogey train that lasted for five straight holes. Normally, bogey isn't bad for me, but some of these were disappointing. On hole #13, a par-4 measuring 343 yards, I hit another great drive, 275 yards to the right fairway. My ball got past some bushes that protect the inside of this dogleg right, leaving just 65 yards to the green. My pitch shot was a bit too long, stopping on the back fringe. Three putts later, I carded my bogey.
With four holes to play, I was on pace for a score in the mid nineties. A missed putt inside four feet on hole #15 resulted in a double-bogey and in retrospect, was the turning point. On hole #16, a 180-yard par-3, I hooked my 5-iron left of the green, but was flag-high. All I needed was a chip and two-putt for bogey. Unfortunately, I duffed my first chip attempt. The result was double-bogey. On hole #17, a par-4, I needed a chip and two putts for double-bogey. Once again, I duffed the first chip, settling for triple-bogey instead.
This left me in an interesting position. I needed a par on the par-5 eighteenth hole to break 100. I had not made a par all day, amassing mostly bogeys, with a spattering of doubles. However, I felt par was possible on this dogleg left, which measures just 465 yards. I took aim at the corner of the dogleg, fully intending to go for the green in two. I pulled off exactly what I was trying for. A collection of spaced trees guard the inside of the corner, while further left is thick forest. My ball sailed over the spaced trees, ending up one foot short of the fairway, adjacent to the 150-yard marker. What a beauty! From 150 yards, I played 7-iron, accounting for the elevated green. My ball was flag high, but hooked eight yards left of the green. The hook got me again! No worries, as I could chip and putt for birdie, or at worst, chip and two-putt for the needed par. Well guess what? I duffed another chip, failing again to get to the green in regulation. After a second chip, I faced a 12-footer for par. The ball was tracking nicely, but burned the left edge, leading to bogey and the wretched score of 100.
It's funny; 100 is the mark of perfection is many things, but in golf it is a true mark of failure. Oh well, I'll just focus on the great shots that were made and try not to worry about the score.
Score: 100
Putts: 36
Fairways: 2
Greens: 0
Penalties: 1
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