Conference 7.286::golf

    This is by far the most embarassing moment I have ever spent on
    a golf course.  But since nobody can see me I'll share it.
    
    This happened several years ago when I first started to play golf.
    I was a 21 handicapper and had entered a 3 day stroke play tournament.
    During the tournament I shot 3 rounds under 90 and won going away.
    I had never played such 'good' golf.  In the following weeks however
    I was barely able to break 100.  Every shot I hit was bad.  On the
    18th hole (of my 3rd or 4th consecutive bad round) I hit a bad drive
    and was trying to hit a wood to the green.  I hit it fat and moved
    the ball maybe 30 yards.  I was so mad that I threw the 3 wood 
    into the woods high up in a pine tree.  As the club started falling
    slowly down throught the tree I was screaming  'stay up there
    you rotten %#%#*&^##'.  When the club hit the ground I stood there
    looking at thinking was a stupid a** I was.  That's the last time
    I ever threw a club.  Now when I hit a bad shot, an oath or 2 may
    emerge, but that moment flashes back in my mind and I move on to
    the next shot.
    
    
    						KO
    

    As a teenager, I had a FURIOUS temper...I can recall two instances
    that eventually "cured" me of that foolishness- both costly, both
    involving my short game (which still stinks).
    
    I, at one point, missed a wedge shot badly, and proceeded to whirl
    my wedge over my head and hurl it into the woods. It went a LONG
    way in, and I was forced to ask (in embarrasment) the other guys
    in my foursome to help me look for it. I was so angry that I paid
    no attention to where it went- and we never DID find it.
    
    Later, I was cured of "hurling", but i just threw my nine iron against
    my pull cart. It must have impacted the wheel in precisely the right
    (or wrong) way, because the shaft just snapped in half.
    
    I have come to the point in my old age that I seem to have mellowed
    to just uttering an oath under my breath- or giving my ball what
    my wife refers to as my "10 Second Death Stare"......

    I have already 'fessed up to my worst moment (see #143). I have
    broken two clubs, but neither of them in a fit of anger. One, a
    pitching wedge, I wrapped around a tree limb following through on
    a shot from the D-E-E-P rough; the other snapped when I hit one
    fat off the tee (a 4-iron).
    
    One of the funniest incidents of "boorishness" happened several
    years ago at Stow. Three of us (Charlie, Nick and I) arrived early
    Sunday, and got paired up with a twosome - Lenny and Gene (yup,
    five guys in one group). These two were two of those guys you have
    nightmares about; but we were stuck with them. It was too crowded
    to run off ahead of them while they were off in the woods looking
    for the most recent lost ball (they were in the woods on just about
    every shot, or so it seemed). The first seven holes were among the
    most painful I can remember playing. I mean, my buddies and I weren't
    exactly professional calibre, but we were Nicklaus, Palmer and Player
    by comparison with Lenny and Gene.
    
    At any rate, we finally got to the 8th tee, which had just been
    re-opened after being resodded: it was immaculate. In fact, it looked
    better than most of the greens we'd seen. Our threesome got off
    fair to reasonable drives. Then Lenny stepped up to tee off. Lenny
    was built like Mr. Five By Five - about 5'6" and probably 220 lbs,
    most of it around the middle. He uncorked one of the worst swings ever
    seen in the history of golf. His driver hit the ground a good foot
    behind the ball and dredged up a divot roughly the size of a manhole
    cover, which spun off the tee like a frisbee, landing about 15 feet
    out. Untouched, the ball remained, trembling slightly, on the tee.
    Surveying the wreckage he'd inflicted on this beautiful piece of land-
    scaping, all Lenny could say was, "Gee."
    
    None of the three of us could look at each other, because we knew
    if we did, we'd burst out laughing, so we all tried to restrain
    ourselves; and we would have succeeded, except that I could see
    Charlie's stomach jiggling with repressed hilarity, and that did
    it: I started roaring and then all three of us were on the ground,
    helpless with laughter. Now that was really impolite, laughing like
    that, I must admit. In fact, Lenny and Gene were so upset with the
    way we'd behaved, they refused to play with us anymore. I'd have
    to say the punishment fit the crime.
    
    

    
    I like the trend this note has taken - humor. And that's really
    what you have to do: laugh it off, realize how futile and embarassing
    it is, and forget about it.
    
    I was playing with a friend, Tony, and we were putting out on an
    island green. There was a guy who had hit just short of the water
    protecting the green. He was one of those golfers that looked like
    he was more at home on a tractor than a golf course (no offense
    to farmers). This guy hit on to the green while we were putting,
    and hit Tony on top of the head. The shot was only from about 50
    yards out and lofted, so luckily it didn't hurt Tony to much but
    of course he was rightfully 'ripped'. 
    
    Being a hot-blooded Italian, Tony went to have a few words with this
    guy. The guy was actually laughing, thinking that bouncing a ball 
    of someheads head was funny. Well Tony, not agreeing with this guy's
    sense of humor, picked up the guy's bag and threw it, clubs and all, 
    into the water (very deep and murky). Suddenly this guy's not laughing
    anymore, in fact now he's yelling at Tony. Figuring this guy still
    hasn't gotten the message, Tony picks him up and throws *him* in the
    water! (I guess he was helping the guy find his clubs).
    
                    -Joe

    As Dave Barry says- "I am not making this up", I actually saw it
    happen at a course in Jaffrey, N.H.
    
    I was in front of a foursome on a par 5, and was watching them hit
    their second shots whilst the other guys were putting. The second
    shots had to go over a pond. This one guy hits his shot very fat
    and it proceeds to go into the pond. The guys must have been having
    a particularly bad day, because he picks up his bag/cart, and HEAVES
    it into the pond, and storms away. His pantners go over and try
    to reach the bag, but with no luck, since it's aways in. We walked
    over to see if we could assist, but to no avail. His partners decided
    that they would inform the greenskeeper, and see if he could assist.
    
    While we are deliberating, up storms the guy who threw the clubs
    in the first place. He says nothing, but it is obvious he is still
    steamed. He proceeds to walk into the pond to retrieve his clubs.
    This is funny enuf....He finally locates them, and drags them out.
    We all figure- end of episode. Wrong.....He rummages around in the
    bag pocket, fishes out his car keys, and re- throws the bag into
    the pond and walks away........We died.......
    
    As I said, this is true. I have heard this story told back to me,but
    I really saw it.

    Re. 5 -
    Okay, I'll believe you (if you say you saw it happen, you saw it
    happen). By an amazing coincidence, a friend of mine related the
    exact same story to me about 20 years ago, claiming he'd seen it
    at the 18th at Stow (South Course). Whatever, it's a great story,
    which never seems to get stale no matter how many times it's told!
    
    Re. 4 - Hitting into people is about the worst. Not only is it rude,
    it's dangerous and could turn out to be downright expensive; but
    it sure is tempting to the short-tempered stuck behind a group of
    turtles! I used to play occasionally with someone who was really
    short of temper and patience, and (being a large, muscular type
    who had little fear of physical confrontation) he was fond of doing
    just this whenever he thought the group ahead of him had used up
    their fair allotment of time. He would justify this (usually on
    the tee) by claiming the rules allowed you to hit your drive as
    soon as everyone in the preceding group had hit their second shot.
    Of course, in many cases their second shot traveled only a few feet,
    but that didn't deter big Nick. He'd blast away, most of the time
    putting his ball IN FRONT of the slower group. The closest he ever
    came to a direct confontation was the time someone in the group
    he'd just hit into picked up his ball and put in their pocket!
    
    Another tactic I've heard of to deal with this is to hit the ball
    back to the guy who's just hit into you. Accuracy is the key I suppose.
    You wouldn't want to hit the wrong person! Probably a good compromise
    is to knock their ball into the woods. Anyone else got any good
    ideas?
    
    Well, the rain seems to have abated, and it's getting close to tee
    time, so I'll knock off for now.
    
    	Frank
             

    Re: .6- Frank, as a matter of fact, this DID happen about 20 some
    odd years ago. I was just married, and my father-in-law used to
    take me to Peterborough CC to play where he was a member. It's a
    short course, and he knew it like the back of his hand and used
    to KILL me on it. Occasionally I insisted that we go to a  longer
    course, and we's drive over to this one. I think it's name is Green
    Meadows or something. He and I and a neighbor of his were playing
    that day. Coincidently, I was playing in the DEC league out of Maynard
    at the time, and we played Stow. I was so amused, I told the story
    far and wide- that's probably how it got spread.....
    
    Haven't played the Jaffrey course since my father-in-law started
    ailing, and subsequently passed away- about 15 years.

    	Boy does that sound familiar, the story of trying not to laugh
    at someone on the golf course.  I myself, have been laughed at before
    so know what its like, but sometimes you just can't help it.
    	Anyway, here's my story.  I was playing in a scramble, where
    you picked your own team, but one of the guys on my team, was a
    friend of a friend, and my brother-in-law and I didn't know him
    very well.  This guy is not that good, but is talking up a big storm
    so we expected a little something from him.  On the 2nd hole, we're
    hitting our 2nd shot on a par 5, with the possibility of reaching
    the green.  This guy pulls out a 3 wood and lets a mammoth swing
    go, missing the ball completely.  Somehow, he though he hit the
    ball, and was looking down the fairway, when he said, he thought
    his shot landed on the green.  It was all we could do from cracking
    up, when we told him to look down.  Then he says, well since I didn't
    hit the ball, I still get another chance to hit it.  We fell out
    of the cart laughing.  It took me about 5 minutes before I could
    actually take a shot.  
                                                      Beak
    

Okay, I admit it - I blew my cork last Sunday in front of my wife and two
total strangers, and I'm embarrassed. But confession is supposed to be good
for the soul, and Lord knows mine needs all the help it can get, so here's
my story:

We (Sue and I) went to Ocean's Edge in Brewster, to play their 18-hole
championship course (site of the NEPGA tournament), on a golf package
deal. An amazing place - 500 acres of condos surrounded by a gorgeous
golf course. Got up early Sunday for the round, after a restless night
and not much sleep (no doubt a contributory factor).

Started fine - par on #1, hit most shots solid on the first 9, but got
no breaks so the score was not too hot...the wheels started coming off
on the back 9; consistently pushing drives, couldn't seem to get the
hands released. Frustrating to say the least. At #13, a 521-yarder, hit
a good drive, but then pushed a 3-wood into the trees. Had given up hope
of making any kind of score, but then found the ball sitting in a good lie,
and decided to try one of those miracle shots, through the timber, rather
than chip back safely - damned if the ball didn't shoot out through all
tree branches and roll up into the rough in the collar of the green! And
this with a 2-iron from about 190 yards...

Began thinking a par was possible, certainly no worse than bogey. Flubbed
the chip shot, and took a 7. After finally holing the putt, my cheap Irish
temper got the better of me, and I not only drop-kicked the ball, I threw
my putter! While neither of the strangers said a word about it, Sue was not
hesitant to point out my boorishness. Strange to say, I calmed down immedi-
ately and had a pretty good time for the rest of the round! Usually when
I get upset, it lasts for the duration of the round. This time, at least,
I was able to get past it. I don't know, but maybe there's hope for the
future. The ironic thing is, if my miracle shot hadn't worked, I don't
think I'd have been nearly as irritated. It was coming so close to making
a decent score, and flubbing it that did me in (that and a lousy night's
sleep).
    
    Frank
    

     Frank.....
    You did well to regain your composure for the rest of the round.
    Although I have NEVER thrown a club, I used to get very upset at
    myself for a bad hole. One bad hole used to really mess up my score
    for the remainder of the round. I kept my anger to myself, cause
    I didn't want to mess up anyone else's head, as golf is 90% mental
    concentration once you get the fundamentals down. What I mean is
    that if your really concentrating on each shot, your probably going
    to score around your average, and improve with pratice.
    
    I now play it hole by hole, and have come to the realization that
    I simply am not going to par every hole. One bad hole no longer
    is thought about for the entire round. The bad hole still prevents
    me from scoring, but it doesn't put me 10 strokes over my average
    either.
    
    Smitty

    Smitty,
    
    I'd like to believe it was an anomaly, a brief throwback to the
    bad old days when my temper was on display for all to see. At any
    rate, I was out again Saturday and stayed cool under pressure (in-
    cluding 4-putting for a double bogey). I hit my usual quota of bad
    shots, but did  not give any of my clubs any "air time." Your point
    about messing up other people's attitudes is well taken: I know
    I certainly respond when someone I'm playing with begins showing
    an "attitude," and I'll try to keep that in mind the next time I'm
    tempted to blow up. It's not fun for anyone when that happens, and
    has a bad effect on everyone's game.
    
    Frank
    

    I'll give you all a humerous story , and then a word of caution.
    I'm beyond getting mad, since I realized that I'll probably never
    be a scratch golfer player once a week (at the most).  I shoot in
    the high eighty's to high ninety's depending upon my concentration
    level.  I can be very consistent or very erratic ... so I go with
    the flow, and try to play it one hole at a time.  I do get irritated
    with myself, but I get over it quickly.
    
    This summer, I went golfing with another DEC'y, and we teed off
    on the first hole at Sagamore in Lynnfield.  I pushed it to the
    right into the woods (right along the edge of the fairway.  I 
    found the ball, directly behind a large tree, and about 18 inches
    lower than the base of the tree.  Its on an uphill lie, and I decide
    to pitch it out onto the fairway.  I decided to try to punch it
    out with a six-iron.  so, playing it conservatively, I have my partner
    watch, and I punched it out.  I looked up to see where it was going,
    and saw nothing.  Its a good two seconds, and suddenly, I got hit
    directly on the top of my head (right in the center) BY MY BALL!
    
    My partner was laughing hysterically.  He saw the whole thing in
    slow motion.  The ball went directly up the tree, rolled out onto
    a branch, came to a stop, and dropped straight down directly on
    me.  He said that he could see it happening, but was unable to say
    anything.  Needless to say, it was funny, and it set me in the right
    frame of mind for the remainder of the round (an 88 by the way).
    
    NOW FOR THE WORD OF CAUTION ....  I heard a story last year of a
    golfer in Texas who became outraged with a poor drive.  He took
    his driver in both hands (baseball grip) and in a pick axe fashion,
    drove it into his electric cart.  Apparently, the head came flying
    off the club, and the jagged edge pierced his jugular vein, killing
    him.  NONE OF US NEED TO TAKE THIS GAME THAT SERIOUSLY.  The first
    story is the type of story we all want to hear.
    
    Regards,
    
    Bob (One of Jack's Pack)
    

    re: .12
    
    I was playing at Shaker Hills a few weeks ago with a twosome I'd been
    paired with. It seemed to be a particularly slow round and we got to
    talking about situations where people's attitudes sometimes cause them
    to accentuate the negative, drawing attention to themselves in the
    process. Admittedly we were all a bit on edge because of the slow play
    but none of us had as much as grounded a club after a poor shot. Then
    we get to the 15th hole. We're all pleased with our shots thru the
    middle of the hole and one of the guys lands short of the green where
    his ball ends up in very thick grass at the base of a 3ft pine tree.
    This guy had a nice set of graphite shaft taylor made clubs he'd bought
    a few months ago. He pulled out his PW and proceeded to get a little
    bent out of shape after dubbing his first shot. He got the same results
    with his second attempt and was really steamed after putting this third
    try over the green into a trap that I was standing near.
    
    With obvious disgust he puts a baseball grip on his club and swings
    with the effort somebody might put into a home run. He clips the top of
    the pine tree and snaps the club in two about 3" above the hosel. He
    was one pissed_but_much_more_quiet golfer. His game didn't get any
    better and for the next few holes he didn't utter a word.