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Much of my blog (not really a blog) will relate to my love of travel with articles and pics. It will be an ongoing project.

Frustration and Jubilation

Whiff!  I have missed again.  I cannot believe it.  My practice swing was so smooth that I felt quite professional, yeah, just like Annika Sorenstam.  Perched precariously on the tee I still see “Titelist” looking back at me.  How can a club the size of my driver miss a ball that is at least a half inch off the ground?  I am fiercely intent on whacking that little ball just like Annika does.  The dimples on the ball actually seem to enlarge as I focus all my attention on a proper swing.  My instructor has told me that my swing must be controlled and like a pendulum, but I feel more like a woodchopper as I gouge yet another chunk of turf from in front of the ball.  The ball arcs high in the air, I think I have a super hit…oh  another pond!  That is the third pond and the fourth ball that I have lost.  At the rate I am losing golf balls, I calculate that it would have been very wise for me to stay in the baseball league, for at $16.99 a dozen for balls, golf is getting to be an expensive proposition.

I select another ball, a Pink Lady this time (hot pink in colour) and will let my 3 iron have a go at it.  My shoulders ache from all the practice swings and whiffs, my toes are overcrowded in my new, vinyl shoes.  I’m hot, thirsty, tired and seriously questioning my sanity.  What am I doing under a blazing sun chasing balls when I could be home working in my garden?  Oh well, here goes nothing.  Whack!  The ball takes off, rises high in the air, soars and…..lands on the green.  I stare in amazement at that pink dot on the lush green circle of grass.  Exuberant, I grab my cart, forget my woes concerning my aches and pains and strut jauntily down the fairway.

At the 18th green I have duffed my way to the top of the hill to finally land on the apron, that portion of slight longer grass that surrounds the green.  With my 7 iron I gently chip the way I’ve seen my instructor do it.  The ball rolls down the sloping green, turns slightly, hits the pin and plops in the hole.  That is the sweetest sound a golfer can hear.  I happily retrieve my ball from the cup.