Did You Hear I Got A Birdie?

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For years now I've been honored to be invited to the Raulli-Militi Open with a whole bunch of great friends from Syracuse.

Years ago we'd play on Friday, eat steaks and then drink beer until late into the night. Then we'd play again on Saturday.

Great courses, a lot of ball-busting and a ton of laughs.

I haven't played in a few years.

I promised to try this year although playing twice in two days was basically impossible. The past few years have been about just trying to get myself loose enough to play a decent round every couple of weeks.

But I really wanted to try!

And then a beautiful thing happened.

It was a 370-yard par 4.

I hit my drive to within 166 yards away. The ball was on an incline.

"Hit it as if it's level ground," John Flynn said.

John is a better golfer than me. I listened.

The shot was in the air, heading for the flag. I heard a lot of congrats come my way. When I got there...the ball was three inches away. I didn't even need my putter.

Tap in birdie.

And then it started.

My mouth.

I mentioned the birdie so often that I told my buddy Jeff:

"You know, sometimes I even get tired of listening to myself."

Jeff laughed.

But I didn't stop mentioning it.

For two days!

Problem being:

I suffered through 27 of the 36 holes.

The night between the rounds wasn't filled with beer-drinking. I laid there in the hotel, stretching, icing and stretching some more.

It didn't work.

I couldn't get loose. My back aches so badly that I stuffed ice down the back of my shorts.

And yet...

...it was worth every minute.

I annoyed my good friends for hours on end. By the time we got in the car to leave every single person there was sick of hearing about my birdie that was almost an eagle.

Even I was tired of me.

So that makes it a good weekend!

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