Echos of A Young Man’s Ethos
A Golfer’s Poem
A virgin golf course at dawn, dewy and fragrant, is my sanctuary, source of spirituality, and very possibly my redemption. It’s my Eden. My Dad was a lifetime PGA member so I was weaned on the golf course. My character was shaped there, by golf’s rules and protocols (and “Leave It To Beaver”;-). My perceptions of character are internalized in terms of gimmies, mulligans, and preferred lies. Hell, I still have the set of Bobby Jones golf clubs that Mac, my fly fishing mentor bought from Dad’s pro shop in 1936, in my living room!
Golf has always had profound meaning for me.
I wanted to write a poem about golf, in golf speak. To do that I needed a scenario. After some internal debate, I decided to base the poem on personal experience rather than make it a work of fiction. Then at some point during my writing of the 2nd hole, I got to thinking, was it in some way self-aggrandizing, writing about myself? But then I said to myself, “Self, why can’t an old man relive his past once in a while?”.
Originally, I intended to revel in my past by chronicling all 36 holes of the Club Championship of 1991 played at the Mission Inn Country Club & Resort in Howey-In-The-Hills, Florida. But after penning the first hole, I decided to only do three. You’re welcome. ;-)
I played horribly the first day and started the second day 8 off the lead. It was the first day of daylight savings time and luckily I remembered to adjust my clocks, but one of the leaders had not. He rode out and tracked me down on the back nine to see how I was doing and to tell me the previous day’s leaders had all gotten into trouble early. Here’s how it went.
Hole #1
The course starts with a 515yd par 5 over a creek to a narrow fairway divided by a small stand of trees. There is water on both sides of the green and numerous green-side bunkers to challenge those going for the green in two.
The gallery was full
when the starter called my name.
But I didn’t hear the starter,
my head was in the game.
I walked on the first tee
with a driver in my hand
and looked down the fairway
deciding where to land.
I teed up my ball
on the right side of the tee
and stood back
to see what my line should be.
I pictured the ball flight in my mind,
the grip, stance, and club path to find.
Straight away to right-center was the plan,
hoping it would roll.
I needed to hit it far enough
for my next shot to reach the hole.
I took a square stance
and a weak grip,
aimed down the middle,
and let it rip.
It was hit solid and faded as it rose.
In keeping with my plan
it swung right of the trees,
landed hot, and then it ran.
When it finally stopped
I had a mid-iron to the pin,
Now, don’t squander a perfect drive,
a golfer’s mortal sin.
The green was guarded by bunkers left and back
with water on the right.
The flag was back left and six feet from the edge,
wind in my face, but light.
A ridge ran the middle of the green,
the upper level I had to reach.
The worst thing I could do here
was hit it short or on the beach.
Land it soft and limit the spin
I thought as I stared at the flag.
With my thinking done
I pulled a four out of the bag.
I settled in over the ball
and overhead I heard the leaves.
The wind was freshening up top
so I changed the four to a three.
With a spin of the club head,
I settled back into my stance.
Square to the hole, ball left center,
neutral grip, it was time to dance.
Just muscle memory now,
no sense gettin’ queasy.
Two waggles and pull the trigger,
low, slow, and easy.
I made sure not to hurry,
not to get ahead of the swing.
I felt the clubhead’s momentum
as it passed me, but no sting.
The launch was normal,
the ball rose as the wind increased.
It landed on the crest of the ridge.
Would it spin back or would it release?
I stared at the green in anticipation.
Be right I thought, be right.
If it released it’s a makable eagle,
if not, par could be my plight.
I don’t know which is worse,
four feet for eagle or three puts for par.
My ball rolled back to the front.
I was hopeful, but no cigar.
Okay, three putts for par’s not bad,
but my goal was a birdie.
The stimp was ten, the slope was two,
so I started the ball at 4:30.
Twenty feet to the top of the ridge,
last ten are flat and it falls right at the hole.
I gave it a good rap, didn’t want to be short,
a wee bit long was my goal.
The ball was running hot
when it crested the ridge.
Did I overcook it a lot,
or only a smidge?
It hit the back of the cup hard,
popped straight up, and dropped in!
An eagle is an eagle is an eagle.
The scorecard didn’t show my chagrin.
Hole #2
This par 3 requires a medium iron to a large, elevated green, bunkered on both sides with water coming into play on the right.
I walked off the first green on a high,
eagle out of the box is never bad.
but it’s often rewarded with a bogey,
so play smart to keep the lead I had.
Hole two is one-seventy-six from the tips.
That I’ll pay dearly if I miss is clear.
So do I play it safe or attack?
What’s the worst thing I can do here?
The pin was tucked in the front left.
My goto high fade was not an option.
The fringe is nasty so the ball has to stick.
A high fade to center stage my best proposition.
I’ll not have benefit of watching other putts.
I’m not greedy so a par was in my sights.
I pulled out a five, teed up my ball,
and felt the wind on my right.
I aimed to left-center with a weak grip,
took two quick waggles, and drew it away.
And I gave it a wee bit extra too,
because the worst thing here was a weak play.
I caught it solid and felt pretty good.
I hit it high to land it soft,
just six feet from the back right edge.
Not terrible, just a little bit off.
The green leaned slightly to the front right.
The putt broke left with a thirty-foot roll.
I was away so no help from my friends.
Hit it high and firm to die below the hole.
But it caught a bit of fringe at the top
that slowed it down prematurely.
So it came up short and above the hole,
a fast four-footer that broke left early.
When it was my next turn to to play
I aimed one ball outside the cup to the right,
and wasted no time over this knee-knocking putt,
I got it going and watched gravity determine my plight.
The damn thing came up just short and I tapped it in.
My fate sealed when I walked off the first green.
Eagle’s revenge had its way with me again.
I had to find a way to break that routine.
Hole #18
A 340 yard par 4 over a lake and straight uphill, the landing area is tightened by large fairway bunkers. It takes one or two more clubs to cover the uphill distance and reach a blind green that slopes from back to front.
I eagled six and some shenanigans,
but to make a long story a lot shorter,
I went out in even par
and walked onto the last tee one over.
I want to land just short of the bunkers.
The drive is blocked on the left by a tree
that’s broad and tall enough to force a draw.
I only hit this fairway one out of three.
The water is not a factor,
it isn’t in the landing zone,
but the tree’s another story.
I’ll win with par if it leaves me alone.
Past mistakes here guided my decision
to pull a five wood and go over the tree.
A few yards lost but less chance of error,
and right now I my guess is you agree.
I aimed at the tree and hit off the deck,
but I hit it thin and into the tree.
It fell to the ground four feet from the trunk
so a five wood couldn’t even save me.
A bogey from here will be tough,
I can’t get it up to the green.
I can’t even manage a full swing,
but I’ll reach the traps if I catch it clean.
I punched an eight up even with the traps
and left an uphill shot of one-twenty-four.
If I get there from here I have a chance.
I hit eight again hard to the dance floor.
I heard a yell as I walked up the hill,
and there it was just six feet from the pin!
But down hill down grain, fastest on the course.
I had to judge both the break and the weight to win.
I was last up and got one read that helped.
I walked around it twice to catch my breath.
I barely needed to touch it and pray
it fell to avoid a tie and sudden death.
I settled in and assumed my position
and drew it away on a count of three.
I don’t remember much after that
until the gallery signaled victory.
© 2024 RidgeMagee
