Pinball Wizard

It happened again. I shot an impeccable 8-iron on a par 3 and landed within birdie distance from the hole. It was a busy day on the course, and there were two guys behind me waiting to tee off. They saw my awesome shot and one of them said, "Hey, have you taken lessons?" When I said I'd taken a few lessons at Golf Galaxy, the guy said, "I'm headed there right after this round!" They proceeded to compliment my swing and seemed truly in awe that such a seemingly unlikely suspect such as myself could pull off such a perfect shot.

But then I decided to come clean and confess what had happened just a few holes earlier.

I was playing with Bea and Dodi and it was a relaxed, jovial round. I wasn't doing great but I wasn't doing awful either. We approached a short par 4, one I had played many times, sometimes making it on in two, more often not. That day, for some reason, some wires crossed in my brain and I pulled my tee shot left, into the trees.

I heard the ball go "thunk" on a branch and watched where it landed, somewhere to the left. I didn't panic, since I saw that I might have a clear shot through the trees so I could gain some forward movement onto the fairway. I set up to the ball and took aim. But the wires crossed again and the ball flew left, again, this time colliding straight into a metal utility box. The ball bounced back toward me and I flinched as I saw it land to my left, just a few yards in front of me. "Well, that's some forward movement at least," I reassured myself. And I took aim toward the green, again thinking I had a clear shot.

The reality is I had no such thing, and it must have been the crossed wires that were causing me to see things that weren't there. I hit the ball and it went into the trees again, bounced off a branch, and landed even further left of the fairway. At this point, as I was walking to find my ball, I noticed that the leaves had begun to change color, it is October after all, and oh, how pretty is in on a golf course in the fall!

Once I found the ball, I took aim, this time at the flag on the green, thinking, "Hey, it's close enough, I might make it." But I didn't. Instead, my ball ricocheted off yet another tree and plopped straight down like a ripe apple, onto the tee ground of another hole! There were four old dudes standing there, and as the little ball fell among them, they jumped and jostled as if there was an earthquake going on. When I arrived on the scene, I was nervously laughing and apologizing, and they looked at me like I was just another dumb broad trying to play golf. Well, yeah, at that moment, I was, "trying" being the operative word. One guy puffed at his cigar and squinted at me with a fake smile and said, "You can hit your shot after we've all teed off."

I waited patiently and watched them all hit perfect tee shots, and then waited some more, for what seemed like a good long time, till they got in their carts and got out of earshot and eyeshot. Then I looked down at my ball and assessed the situation. The only thought that came to mind was "Hmm, I think I have a clear shot to the green." So I took the shot, call it the Phil Mickelson shot or the Bubba Watson shot, or whichever crazy player shot that's supposed to look impossible but land within inches of the hole. Except mine landed in the bunker, way right of the hole.

Bea and Dodi were standing at the edge of the green, in deep conversation. They had each made it on in two, so it seemed like they had enough time to debate the existence of God while I was trying to catch up. Their balls were poised near the cup, but they politely decided to wait till I got on before taking their final putts.

From the bunker, I got out of the sand with two strokes and took a single putt to hole out.

Boy, was I glad to hear that ball finally go into the hole. Somehow I was surprised it only took 8 shots, since it seemed like an eternity to get there. But that's the way it is with golf. Wires cross. Time stands still. And sometimes being bad at golf is as much fun as being good.