Cooling Towel

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There are a whole lot of extra golfers out there on Father’s Day.

There were children out there too, which I didn’t much care for.

Evidently a couple of Dads thought it would be cool to drag their kids along as they played a round.

It was irritating because I parred 4 of the first 5 holes, and then lost my rhythm as I watched the kids play in the sand traps.

We were also out of sync because we were a threesome again and we really missed our 4th as he suffered a death in his family.

He lost his Dad, and man, I thought a lot about it as we went around.

It was that kind of week.

I thought about my Dad at baseball games. Especially one in Oakland when the Yankees lost in the bottom of the 9th when Guidry gave up a homer to Kingman.

It had been a really warm day under a hot sun.

Like yesterday as we motored around the course.

I once went to a golf course with my Dad. We didn’t get to play because my younger brother was with us and he wasn’t gonna’ play. He was just going to hang out with us.

They didn’t allow us to go out back then.

We waited to take every single shot, but we just let the sun do its thing.

The 4 out of 5 pars seemed to be a lifetime away as I started coming up too soon on my irons.

Thought about the pain of losing a loved one.

It sweeps over you in waves, and it doesn’t ever go away.

Not really.

We had cooling towels in our ice buckets.

I ran it across my head and over my face.

Good moments.

Lousy swings.

Terrific days.

Days full of pain.

Heat was wearing us out.

Life kind of does the same thing.

I was really tired when I arrived at my ball on the last hole of the day.

120 yards away.

“One more good shot.”

It was unlikely at that time, but I knew as soon as I hit it that it would stick on the green.

We finished on hole 10 as we had shotgun started on 11.

My buddy, who lost his Dad, loves that hole.

“Two putt for the par for him,” I thought as I got to the green.

I three-putted.

Life.

I soaked my head with the towel as I moved away.

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