But At Least He Has A Sense Of Humor
Yesterday I strolled up to the clubhouse to see how some friends were doing in the first big competition of the year, The Burghfield Cup. I met my friends Ian, Ian, and Martin, and had a pint or 2 or 3 (oh, and a dram as there were 2 aces in the tourney) with them as they recapped their round. They had played well and were in the running for some prizes. The format called for the best two scores of 3-man teams. So it did not matter if one player had a bad round as long as the other two played well. It came to light that Ian had a disaster on the ninth hole, taking 11 shots. With the beer doing part of the talking for me, I gave Ian a hard time. “How can you make 11 on #9? It’s downwind and the easiest hole on the course,” I chided. We all had a good laugh at Ian’s expense.
Flash forward to today’s round. I was off in the 2nd group. I was playing so-so into a stiff breeze and was looking forward to the turn at the 9th for some downwind holes. After 2 fair shots I had left 90 yards to the green. An easy wedge...which I promptly dumped into the front right bunker. After 3 whacks trying to get out towards the hole, I pitched out backwards only to have it roll right back into my own footprint. At this time my playing partner uttered my least favorite Scottish golf term, “Unlucky.” Debating on whether to wrap my sand wedge around his neck or continue to play, I gave it a mighty rip and watched it scuttle 40 yards back down the fairway. After raking every square inch of the bunker, I took the walk of shame back down the fairway to my ball. I then chipped on and 2-putted for a, let me count...yes, a freaking 11. I cracked up. The Golf God bitch-slapped me. I played on with a wry smile on my face and as I was playing 14, who was coming down the 3rd...Ian, Ian, and Martin. I shouted across the fairway “Ian, I am sorry for my comments yesterday...I just took 11 on the 9th.” As I played on I could hear them chuckling.
Instant Karma.
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