June 20, 2023
I don’t have a golf handicap, so I don’t have a definitive way to compare myself to other golfers. I play with my sons a lot and on most days, they are better than me. Since I play mostly on weekdays, I frequently play solo rounds—as most potential playing partners I know have day jobs. So when I’m playing and I see another player or a group on another hole, I’ll watch a swing or two occasionally and think to myself, ‘Okay, I’m better than those guys,’ or ‘Hey, that guy’s pretty good.’ I don’t really care, but since I’m competitive by nature, I’m kind of curious how I stack up.
I’ve determined by my own unscientific calculations that for a guy in the over 55 age group who plays a couple times a week during the peak season, I’m an ‘average’ player. I don’t like being average at anything, but that might be my fate for the game of golf. I suppose I could improve if I worked at it a little, but hitting balls at the range or doing the drills that Golf Digest suggests just isn’t much fun for me. I just want to get out there on the green grass in the weather and enjoy the day—whatever my score.
But my game is occasionally plagued by a really bad shot or a series of really bad shots, and that’s the kind of thing that can spoil an otherwise pleasant day on the course. These meltdowns seem to come out of nowhere. I can clip along with two or three pars in a row and I start to think I’ve figured the game out—and then I slice (or hook) a shot into oblivion. But, as an ‘average’ golfer, that kind of comes with the territory.
This season I have been plagued with more of these shots than usual. Perhaps it’s because I got a later start to the golf year and I’m just not in ‘form’ yet. Or maybe I’m on the inevitable age-related downhill side of my playing plateau. (No, that can’t be right.) Or it could be that I’m just not playing enough. (I’m going to test this theory!)
It would be hard to put together a list of my 10 worst golf shots ever, mainly because there would be too many to choose from. But I’m sure I have added to that list this spring. In fact, I may have recently hit my two worst shots of all time in back-to-back rounds.
I was playing by myself early on a weekday morning at 5×80. As I drove up to the green on hole #2, I noticed two guys in one cart by the green on #1. One of them was Chris Hopkins. He’s pretty good and plays fast, so I made a mental note to keep track of them in case they needed to play through. I got up to the 3rd tee and glanced toward the pond by the 2nd tee. I didn’t see anybody, so I thought my pace of play was fine, and put it out of my mind.
For most of last golf season, I was slicing off the tee with my driver. This season, I added a significant hook. When you do one or the other, you can compensate and kind of figure it out. When you have no idea where your tee shot is going, that can kind of get unnerving. And that’s where my mind was that morning.
I stepped up to the tee boxes and took one of those swings that just feels bad—herky jerky, with no rhythm at all—and the ball clunked off my club. The ball took a massive hook toward a tree and fescue covered area nowhere near the fairway that I had visited all too often this spring. So, if I found the ball, at least the next shot would not be unfamiliar to me. But the ball kept hooking—much more than usual. It hit the ground and bounded toward the narrow bridge that connects the two tee areas of the 2nd hole. There’s just no way you should ever get close to that bridge with a shot, so I watched in amazement and disgust. Then, I noticed a cart on the bridge. I assumed it was Chris and his partner. It was too late to yell ‘Fore.’ Plus, I was still confident that the shot was not that bad.
So I had to take the drive of shame toward the 2nd tee in search of my ball. Chris was there, getting ready to tee off, and he walked toward me as I approached. He’s a super nice guy, so I figured he wasn’t going to scold me for buzzing him with an errant shot like another golfer—rightfully, perhaps—might do.
He pointed and said, “It nearly hit us. It went across the bridge. It’s laying there on the right.”
I apologized and laughed. “It crossed the bridge?”
“Yep.”
A shot beyond wayward—and then the ball actually rolled across the bridge and settled on some grass? What were the odds?
Frequently when I hit a terrible shot, find the ball, and survey my situation, I say to myself or out loud, “I’ve never hit one from here before.” That was the case with this shot. There was about 150 yards of tall grass in front of me—and then some trees beyond that. I’d have to hit the ball about 180 yards—straight—just to get back onto the fairway. Of course, all that got in my head, and I chunked the ball into the middle of the fescue. I dropped another ball, tried to clear my mind, and this time I drilled one right where I was aiming. And, if you’ve ever played golf, you know that one good shot makes up for every other bad shot you ever take, so I was actually feeling pretty good at that point, despite already laying 4 on a par 5 hole.
I told the story of the bridge crossing later that night—once to Quinn and a second time to Kyle. Neither could fathom the gruesomeness of that shot. I think they both used the word ‘impossible.’
But the shot was so ‘possible’ that I did it a second time. A couple days later, I was playing with Quinn. We pulled up to the 3rd tee and I laughed about returning to the scene of the crime. I thought to myself as I loosened up with a practice swing, ‘Just don’t hook this thing again.’ That didn’t work. I yanked the shot toward the bridge. Like the first time, I didn’t think the shot was that bad. We started our search for the ball to the right of the bridge, but couldn’t find it. Just as a joke, I said to Quinn, “Well, maybe I hit it across the bridge again.” He drove over it—and there was my ball. In almost the exact same spot as last time.
So I have officially started a list of my worst shots ever. The two tee shots described here are tied for first place. If I hit one worse than that this season, I’m definitely not writing about it.
Earlham Echo 
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