A Mighty Wind

It was my first official play day with the women's league I had joined. I had played with a few of the league women here and there a few times but this was the first 18 holes I would play with the group. The forecast called for a 30% chance of rain with gusts of wind as high as 30mph, but I had already canceled on a play day two weeks before due to rain in the forecast and it never actually rained that day. So I was hopeful that this rain forecast wouldn't come true either. 

I planned to walk with my pull-cart, and I brought a better umbrella this time. Feeling optimistic, I also wore white pants and a short-sleeve shirt instead of a long-sleeve one.

"It's not gonna rain, right?" I said to the pro shop cashier.

"Well the radar is clear right now," he said, pointing to the TV screen behind him where they displayed the weather radar. 

"I brought my umbrella, so that means it isn't going to rain," I said.

"Oh, like a talisman?" said the lady behind me.

"Exactly!" I said, gratified to know that I wasn't the only one in modern times who used the word "talisman."

There were 2 threesomes from the ladies league going out. In my group, I walked while the other two shared a cart. I hit a decent first tee shot and bogeyed the first hole. The second hole went the same. It was sunny, and the wind was up but not terribly so. On the third hole, an uphill par 4, we had all made it to the green and marked our balls, when cloud cover seemed to rush through like an ocean wave, bringing with it a sudden, brisk chill in the air. Within seconds, the wind rushed around like a hurricane and we were pelted with tiny, sharp drops of rain. I picked up my mark and ball, and rushed to where my golf cart had fallen over. I didn't even have time to put on my windbreaker which was stuffed in a pocket of my golf bag. In fact, I didn't even have time to put my ball marker back on my hat. I just clenched it tightly in one hand while dragging my cart in the other hand. The clubhouse was in view but I had to cross thee fairways to get there. The two ladies in my group had jumped in their cart and circled back to see if I wanted a ride. 

"No, I'm okay!" I shouted. "Maybe I could just run alongside your cart so I have some shelter." I don't think they heard me because they bolted off almost immediately. "That's right," I thought, "Save yourselves!" It felt like quite a dire situation at the time. I passed a short tree that was cracked in two. Tree branches were falling like rose stems after an ice skating performance. I saw two old men huddled against each other in a golf cart by a large pine tree, but even they decided to head indoors.

Once in the clubhouse, it was like a 60th year high school reunion of a boys school. It was all old man golfers, with the exception of my threesome and a few other non-league ladies. The power was out, so everyone just talked about the weather, watching through the big windows looking over the first hole.

My husband had sent me a text: "Be careful out there. Heavy rains coming."
I texted him back: "I know. They are here. In the clubhouse now."

After about 20 minutes, the skies cleared as suddenly as they had clouded and we set out to play again. We were going to take up from the 4th hole, but I scurried out ahead so I'd have time to place my ball where it was before and putt it out. It was only 5 or so feet from the hole, but I took two putts and then rushed over the the next tee.

With 4 over after 3 holes, I wasn't sure where the day would lead. But things turned out pretty well. We played to variably strong winds and the sounds of firetrucks off in the distance. Later I'd learn there were many weather-related power outages and traffic incidents. But here I was on the golf course, safe from car crashes and the need for electricity.

I went on to make 5 pars and a birdie on a par 4, and in the end I'd shot an 87 for the round, something I hadn't done for several years. I think the shushing of the wind helped serve as white noise to drown out any chatter from the ladies. Playing after a storm somehow made me feel as if I was in a state of grace. I shouldn't really be here, but here I am, so I must play well to deserve it. Ironically, the wind conditions were a blessing at times. Waiting for a certain gust to die down gives one an extra moment to reflect on what one is about to do, swing-wise. Also, there is such a thing as "helping wind," as any golfer knows.

So I survived 18 holes of golf during what some would later call a "tornado." I think I'm ready for Scotland.

A Pleasant Round

So I golfed with Auntie by myself for the first time yesterday. The ladies league I joined were playing too early the day before, so I decided to play with Auntie in the afternoon. Seri isn't leaving for Korea for another week, but she already shipped her golf clubs back home and has to finish packing. At first I was a little nervous about golfing just with Auntie (what would we talk about? should I bring snacks for her like Seri always did?). But the day turned out to be quite pleasant.

Coincidentally, we were playing a course called Mt. Pleasant. I hadn't played a full 18 at this course for a few years, so I was looking forward to the back nine. When I arrived at the clubhouse, I was surprised to see Bea. She seems to be going through some kind of mid-life crisis, judging from the fact that she often golfs with men who aren't her husband these days. But who am I to judge? Her boy-toy of the moment is a young Korean man who could be her son's age. I politely introduced myself, and then I shuffled off, not wanting to be a part of any tawdriness. Turned out, Auntie and I had the tee time after them, but we played leisurely and gave them plenty of space.

Auntie is a very consistent golfer. She is super-slim and petite and has a great short game. She also has a cool-as-a-cucumber demeanor that instantly put me at ease. She drove the cart and let me walk as much I wanted, since it is better for keeping my leg pain at bay. Our conversation was focused on the golf, just the way I like it. Mt. Pleasant has a few blind tee shots and tilted fairways, so I was always asking questions like, "Is this a dogleg left?," "Where should I aim to keep it in the fairway?" and "Is there a bunker behind that green?" Aside from that, it was comments like "Good putt!" and "Great shot!," the usual niceties that let your golfing partners know that you're appreciative of their game.

After the front nine, I had shot 10 over, so I knew it wasn't going to be a spectacular round. The back nine was harder, I think, starting with a par 5 that had rolling fairways as steep as a roller coaster ride. After a double-bogey on that hole, and a triple-bogey on the next hole, a par 3 shielded by bunkers (I really need a bunker lesson), I knew all was hopeless, so I relaxed a little, just trying to enjoy the day and enjoy the sunny skies and the breeze on my face. With the pressure off, I managed to make some pars, and then came hole 17, a long par 3 that brought some unpleasant memories to mind.

It's a downhill 167-yard tee shot over thick brush to a long, narrow green with bunkers on both sides and a drop-off of rough so steep on the right that there is a wooden staircase for golfers to climb back up to the green. The last time I had golfed this hole, as I recall, I hit an errant tee shot to the right and landed just at the base of the wooden staircase, just far enough from it not to impede my swing but not far enough for me to hit a wedge shot over it. I was stymied by those stairs, for sure.

This time, I was determined to land the green. I took a few deep breaths and took aim with my 3-wood. I flexed my knees. I kept my arms nice and long. I did not pick up my head too soon. The result? A stick-straight drive that landed at the edge of the green. Of course, I three-putted from there and made bogey, but still... I was darn proud of myself.

Oh, and I noticed that they removed the old wooden staircase, grassed it over and installed a new set of stairs at the back of the green. So I guess I was not the only one who'd been stymied by those old stairs.