On my round yesterday, I acquired my own personal fly on the second hole. The dang thing followed me for the next seven holes, incessantly buzzing about and generally making a nuisance of itself. I tried to shake it a couple of times by jogging forward to the next hole, but it kept up. I only lost the fly when I went into the clubhouse at the turn, though I half expected it to be waiting for me when I emerged.
Having a personal fly while you’re playing golf is a bit like experiencing the Chinese Water Torture. Just when I thought it was done being a pest, the fly would buzz my ear again. Soon, I began anticipating its presence. Lining up for a tee shot, or for a putt, my thoughts involuntarily turned to the looming presence of the fly: “Ok. Here it comes. Any second now. Now. Right now.”
It is hard to concentrate on tee boxes and greens when you just KNOW that the pest will reappear at the most inopportune time.