It’s funny the difference time makes.
If I had spent an hour 10 years ago the way I just did, I would have been filled with despair.
I set out to play nine holes of golf and I quit after four. I was eight over par for the four holes I played. Over nine holes, that would have worked out to 54.
Ten years ago I was occasionally breaking 40 for nine holes and had one round in which I had eight pars and one bogey for 37.
I even shot 75 once for 18 holes, pretty much exceeding every realistic goal I sent for myself when I started playing nearly 30 years ago.
I’ll never do that again, but then, I can’t hit 18-20 foot jump shots or slash line drives through the infield either.
Damn, I’m 71 years old.
My golf outing — such as it was — was a test to see if I could play at all anymore. Between lower back pain and a left knee in need of replacement, it has been iffy.
My first swing was not promising at all. I twisted my knee and the ball trickled about 20 yards away. Thankfully, that was the only swing I took in the hour or so I played that resulted in knee pain. I took some poor shots, and except for one putt, nothing I would call excellent.
But I was pleasantly surprised at how few times I lifted my head, or pulled off my shot. I triple-bogeyed the first hole, bogeyed the second and double-bogeyed the third and fourth. Most of my shots didn’t go very far — I didn’t hit anything more than 125 yards or so — but I didn’t hook or slice very many of them, and that was a good sign.
Still, I gave up after an hour.
Why? Well, there was one factor I completely forgot.
T?he heat index was in the mid 90s, and the only w.ater I had with me hadn’t been cooled.
So I stopped, but in spite of the bad shots and the occasional pain, I came away feeling like I might just be able to play again.
That make it a sweaty hour well spent.