Golf Star

Since we are on the topic of past sports stories, I thought I would share a golf story with you now.

This is where we practiced and had our home matches. It was way to hilly too be a golf course.

I was on the golf team for a few years in high school.  I think it was just my Junior and Senior year.  Anyway, the last year I think my coach just felt bad for me so she put me on the “Varsity” team but I still played JV matches.

That means I would play middle schoolers including sixth graders, but sometimes Freshman or Sophomores if I was lucky.

Just like tennis, I wasn’t that good, although I actually enjoyed this sport.  I loved my team and enjoyed learning how to play golf for free. But it was always so flipping hot outside, I thought I was going to die.  We didn’t get to use golf carts, so we had to walk the course everyday with our heavy bags on our backs, sweating like crazy and getting awesome tan lines.  By the end of the season, I would have one white hand from wearing my glove, and white feet from wearing my shoes all season.  (Kelly was the pro on our team, and her tan lines were incredible… the whiter the feet, the better you were.)

I wish I could say that I was good at driving, or putting, but it really was just the luck of the draw.  Sometimes I would hit a really good drive and then it would take me about 8 or 9 more strokes to get it in.  Other times it would take me a few strokes (and penalty strokes) to actually hit the ball for the first time.  There was really no way of knowing what would happen.  But I will say that my par was doublepar.  I was content with doublepar, cause at least I didn’t have to quit that particular hole.

One particular time I had already hit my drive and I went to find my ball.  Kelly (the pro) was there, and we were looking together and thought we found it.  I then preceded to hit the best hit you have ever seen.  Well, the best hit you have ever seen done by me.  Kelly was amazed, she never knew I could swing like that.  It gracefully landed on the green, right next to the hole.

When I was preparing to putt the ball in, I saw that the initials on the golf ball did not exactly line up to my initials.  It wasn’t my ball.  I had hit the wrong one.  And unfortunately I’m honest (well not unfortunately, but you know what I mean…)

So, not only did I lose that wonderful stroke, I also got a penalty stroke.  And my actual hit was awful.

It could have been the best round of my life.  Instead, it was the worst.