My legs felt clunky as I jogged through hard wind to complete the Orange Street Loop in 33:04, with splits of 11:08, 10:57, and 10:59. Maybe that midnight slice of Levy French Toast threw me out of whack.
A couple of hours later, at about 1 p.m., I teed off on No. 5 at Fort Roots, thinking, "Fuck those first four holes. I'm the only motherfucker out here, so why indulge them?" My first drive was an intentional fade. It landed 254 yards away, at the edge of the trees that complete the fairway. I bogeyed the hole, then went double, triple, double, and hit a 7-wood somewhere in the neighborhood of 190 yards to, I'm guessing, 50 yards short of the green, right in the middle of the fairway with my third shot on No. 9, but did not find the ball and rolled my clubs to the car and drove home. Six bucks for an hour of shitty golf; what a fucking bargain.
No comments:
Post a Comment