It was a glorious March day Sunday, with clear blue skies and temperatures in the mid-40s. So of course I went out to play a round of golf.
I’d like to say that I had a good time, but I really didn’t. I played poorly and the course was soaking wet, with every shot landing on ground that could reasonably be called “standing water.”
I should have know known that something was up when I called for a tee time and was told that the course was walking only. I didn’t think anything of it at the time because I always walk. But it’s clear that what the person at the desk was telling me is that it was too wet and muddy for the wheels to gain any traction.
My swing was a mess. I suppose that I should have expected that, since I really haven’t played any serious golf since September. But it’s disheartening to hit 180 yard drives and to leave every approach short of the green.
The worse part, however, was that what I thought would be a quick nine turned into a three hour nightmare. The course was filled with foursomes of Japanese, who turned out to be the slowest players on the planet. There were three groups of Japanese in front of me, and two behind. I was playing solo, so I made the most of the time, playing my own private four player scramble.
I really needed the practice. By the end of the round, I was beginning to hit some more solid shots, with some distance. But I’ve still got a lot of work to do. Some lessons are in order. And the sooner, the better.