On the top of my in box yesterday morning was an email from the pro – weather permitting, the course will open at 8:00 Saturday morning. In that small wrinkle of time between paid work and momming, I hit balls into the net the backyard, running through the sequence – driver, fairway wood, hybrid 5, 7 iron, wedge. Matching up the long range forecast and my calendar the mid-section of next week looks promising. Wednesday afternoon it may be possible to play real deal golf. My inner child is jumping up and down.
3/11/16 – I don’t usually play on Friday afternoons. The course fills up quickly with guys coming straight from work with cans of Bud Light in their golf bags, and they tend to favor distance over accuracy. But this is early Spring in New England, not the beer and Bermuda shorts time of year, weather that brings out the true believers.
My shift ended at 2; was pulling into the lot at the course at 2:15. The lot was empty – except for the big, white van from the near by prep school. And I would have been fine for the first drive of the year to be in front of the boy’s team from St Grottlesex Country Day – I was ready for that; I’ve done it before and the results have been okay – my ball sitting smugly in the middle of the first fairway well on its way to the green. What I wasn’t ready for was the woman strolling up over the top of the elevated tee as I was going to tee up – all of the sudden, out of the blue, here comes a woman walking right into a zone where golf balls fly at high speeds in sometimes random directions. My second tee shot was respectable.