Country Club of York
Hole #15/471 Yards/Par 5:
Mid-summer round with two of my best golfing buddies, dry conditions, minimal alcohol consumption. Reasonably short, dogleg left with a significantly elevated tee box, tree line guarding the entire left side, bunkering guarding the right side.
My tee ball (ball #1) was a short, high, pop-up barely reaching the corner of the dogleg. Did it make it past the turn to safety or did it get swallowed up by the tree goblins?! Hope was not springing eternal. After some deliberation, along with encouragement from my less than optimistic playing partners, I decided to hit a provisional (ball #2). Little did I know at the time, the superintendent of the club was watering the fringe of the even more elevated 14th green (directly behind/above the 15th tee box), watching the goings-on. I proceeded to dribble ball #2 approximately five yards diagonally to my left. Ball #2 did not leave the tee box and yes, you are correct, it didn’t make it past the ladies’ tee.
Not wanting to prolong the agony or risk a full sleeve of my beloved Titleist (not to mention it was time to bid ado to my gallery), we abandoned ball #2 and took off in search of ball #1. My playing partner (Joe), one of the best ball hounds on the planet, miraculously finds ball #1 beyond the turn and a few yards into the kaka*, out of sight from the attentive throng. I punched a four iron out of the woods, hit a five iron to the fringe, a chip, a rimmed out five-foot par putt and a tap-in bogey. I was anxious to scurry back to the maintenance shed to share the news!
As I walked off the green, I closed my eyes and repeated the mantra, “I am a really good golfer. I am a really good golfer.”
*Kaka: My brother’s politically correct terminology for hitting into the shit!
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