Bouncing Down The Fairway

I was confident with every club in my hand on Sunday.

And it was so much fun.

The ball was bouncing well.

First off, the weather was great, and Pops was pushing me with 40-foot putts and long drives.

I knew I needed to keep the ball in the short grass, and stay consistent.

And it’s never about winning or losing - we all cheer one another’s good shots.

It’s such an unforgiving game.

You can hit a shot exactly where you want to and it can just bounce the wrong way.

I had a long putt for an eagle…it hit the flag stick. Ended up 8’ away. Missed that too. A tap in par.

Pissed about it.

Watched Pops on very next hole from 235 yards out…hit a ball that rolled all the way around the cup and was spit out.

Would’ve been an eagle.

He made the birdie putt.

When we pulled up on 16, my heart sunk a little.

Only 3 holes left.

Thought about the busy week ahead.

A lot of hours between swings.

Deep breath on 18.

Finish it with a par.

Great drive.

Hit the green with the 2nd shot, ended up in the fringe.

Chippy to a tap in.

And handshakes all around.

Didn’t think about Pedo, or the dead senator, or high prices, or a huge electrical bill.

My son played too with his buddies…

… On an hour of sleep because he worked the night shift.

After the round, he looked exhausted.

His score was high.

“How’d it go?” I asked.

“Loved it,” he said.

I know the feeling.