Odo's Trials and Tribulations in Getting Good at Golf Part IV

I'd like to apologize to my dedicated readers as I'm sure the majority of you have been at the edge of your seats perusing THE BOOK and Twitter for the link to my recent golf diary.  Life had unfortunately gotten in the way.  Between school and the Bruins, I haven't had much time to sit down and write this blog entry.  Thanks for your patience and let's talk whack sticks!!

Saturday April 30, 2011:

Course:  Juniper Hills - Lakeside Course

Holes:  18

Par:  71 (36 on the front 9, 35 on the back)

Attire:  Pastel Pink polo, black shorts

Other Participants:  The Artist Formerly Known As Jim Barry, MikeyMo, Super Alby

Well, the round started and ended with a bang.  The Artist Formerly Known As Jim Barry was supposed to be the fourth member of our group, but decided to not show up.  Don't worry, though.  TAFKAJB regretfully made us aware at 11:30 AM that he wasn't going to make it.  Thanks for the heads up, TAFKAJB!  We only teed off at 8:24 AM - speaking of which, you owe me $63 for your round of golf.

You may ask why I am referring to James as TAFKAJB.  Well, fact of the matter is I haven't seen him in about a year.  As far as I know, not only is he breaking golf promises and tee times, but he's also crushin' ass and breakin' girls hearts.  He's a modern day Sean Michaels.  It just so happened that I saw him Monday night at our softball game.  Not only has he lost his ability to respond to golf invites, but he's also lost his athletic ability.  TAFKAJB was pitching.  Pitching!?!?  C'mon, TAFKAJB!  You're better than that!

This round of golf was over before it started.  I am not going to bother you with the details.  I'll summarize it by saying that all three of us played worse than the Philadelphia Flyers are playing as I write this (down 2-0 1:03 into the first period).  There were only two parred holes between the three of us.  Aggression, frustration, and boredom were the themes of today's misery.  Some highlights:

- I lost 9 balls.  Prior to starting the round, I commented on how I was still on my first box of balls this season, which is a pretty remarkable feat for as someone as piss poor at golf as me.  Well, I ate my words as I launched 5 into the water and 4 into the woods on this day.

-  MikeyMo nearly killed the foursome in front of us.  Before panic sets in, let it be known that the foursome in front of us were the biggest douches that ever douched.  They were around the same age as us, but may have been the biggest meatheads I will ever see on a golf course (besides Eazy E after a few beers).  They also made us look like all-stars.  We repeatedly waited on each tee box for these jackasses to get moving on the holes.  That's beside the point.  MikeyMo lined his tee shot into the following hole's tee box.  Should he have yelled "FORE"?  Yeah, prolly.  But he didn't care.  And neither did SuperAlby or me.  These kids deserved it.  As we approached the green, tempers flared a bit.  Given the fact that I was having the shittiest round of my life, I was feeling saucy.  While words were being exchanged, I walked over to these guys' cart and took one of their Coors Lights.  I cracked it open and all heads turned with the "tssssss" noise of opening the can.  One of the douches asked me what I was doing and approached me.  I took a swig of the beer, slammed the rest on the ground, and sucker punched him across the jaw.  They didn't f*ck with us the rest of the day.

                 Half-Jew on a Power Trip - 1
                 Douches                             - 0

-  MikeyMo stopped scoring on the 14th hole and I stopped caring.  I lined two balls into the water and a third one flubbed into the fairway.  My power trip was on a heater, so I took my driver and threw it as far as I could.....aaaaand it went farther than the drive itself.  SuperAlby was the only one of us left caring

-  Because we didn't care, MikeyMo and I decided to turn Juniper into our very own Rainbow Road race track:

Turtle shells became golf balls and the golf karts were not returned in the same shape than were prior to our round.  That's what happens after a shit round of golf mixed in with some douches and a few Milwaukee's BEAST.

Front 9:  60 strokes

Back 9:  55 strokes

Total:  115 – I hate this game

Place: who cares?  we suck.

Lost Balls: 9

Food:  N/A

Drink:  Milwaukee's BEAST (3), sip of Coors' Light

Tobacco: N/A

Cart:  Yes

Rate:  $63 (including cart)

Sunday May 1, 2011:

Course:  Westborough Country Club

Holes:  9

Par:  36

Attire:  Pink shirt, black pants, hot white belt

Other Participants:  The Sandman, RicRoc

 

April showers bring May flowers and shitty golf game.  This round wasn't about me, however.  This round was ALL about The Sandman's meltdown of EPIC proportions.  In a previous entry, I compared The Sandman to Michael Jordan.  He retires.  He comes back.  He retires.  He turns to softball.  He comes back.  Well, this comparison isn't true.

The Sandman is the f*ckin' Brett Favre of golf - right down to the sext messaging.  The season is a mere month old and The Sandman has already retired and made a come back three times.  This round of golf was the equivalent of Brett Favre getting knocked the f*ck out against the Patriots this past season.  

The Sandman was a Happy Sandman for the first four holes.  He wasn't having the best round of golf, but he was still having a good time.  He's come to realize that he sucks at the sport and will never be nearly as good as I am.  But Happy Sandman flipped the switch to Hulk Sandman on the 6th hole.  His frustrations took a toll on him.  He hulked out BIG time taking every single ball from his bag and insisting he hit them all off the tee box until one went straight.

Swing

Swing

Swing

Swing

Swing

Swing

RicRoc and I watched Hulk Sandman line six straight balls into the woods.  That was a nice waste of money.  On the 7th hole, things didn't get much better.  In fact, they actually got funnier.  RicRoc and I weren't even at the tee box before we heard the mouth of a truckdriver and saw a 6-iron flying over our heads.  Similar to this:

Hulk Sandman proceeded to walk off the course.  Needless to say, the ride home after the round wasn't awkward at all.  Someone get Hulk Sandman a girlfriend.  Kid needs to relieve some MAJOR stress.  Needless to say, after this round, the world awaits the Hulk Sandman's decision.  Will he play?  Is he coming back?  Will he wear his Wrangler jeans ever again?  Will he text you a picture of his wanker?  I can't stand it!  Don't tease us Hulk Sandman!!!!!

One more round!  One more round!  

Front 9:  49 strokes

Place:  1st of 3

Lost Balls: 0

Food:  Peanut M&Ms

Drink:  Mike's Hard Lemonade (tis the season!)

Tobacco:  SNUSS

Cart:  N/A

Rate: $20

For those of you tracking at home, I've spent close to $300 on golf already between actual rounds and driving range seshes.  However, this $300 is for more than just golf.  It's for the story-telling, the sight-seeing, and the occasional Hulk-out.

Until next time.....