Decisions Made By Old Age

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Every year my buddy Jeffy, a true Grape Ape, plays in a golf tourney with me. It's a two day event at a couple of great courses in Rochester and we play with my great friends from Syracuse.

On Thursday Jeffy had a decision to make.

"I believe I tore my hamstring during the softball championship game," he said. "I've been trying all week to swing a club. I can't."

I thought he might cry as he broke the news.

However.

I had my own problems.

I was an hour away from getting shots in my back to try and get some feeling back in one or either of my lower legs.

As the doc prepared me for the shots we talked about my ambitions.

"Can I play in a two-day golf event on Friday and Saturday?" I asked.

He laughed.

"I suppose, if you can tolerate it, but why would you want to?"

I explained about the great friends and the great courses.

"You might be able to pull it off," he said.

Turns out I couldn't.

I yanked my first couple of drives and those who golf with me regularly know I don't do that a lot, but there was considerable back pain on each swing (the numbness was less in my feet though, so yeah for me!).

By hole ten I was hit by a revelation:

I shouldn't play tomorrow.

And I thoroughly debated it, with a bag of ice from the clubhouse pressed between me and the seat.

Yet.

I hit my drive on 17...a long par 5. Straight down the middle. Great shot. My always astute boss did the math on the distance to the next shot with a creek running between us and the green.

"180 yards," he said.

I hit it 177.

I chipped onto the green and I bent to pick the ball out of the hole after a good putting session and it hit me:

Maybe I can tough it out tomorrow.

But I made a good decision.

I picked up the ball and went home.

Cut to Saturday morning.

The blog is late.

'Cause I couldn't stand up.

"When I see Adam and Eve I'm gonna' punch them in the face for this getting old shit," Jeffy said when I told him I had to make like Tiger and quit.

We can punch one of them each.

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