Twilight at Torrey Pines

I needed a winter break, so hubby and I flew west to the San Diego area in search of weather warm enough for golf. I shipped my old set of Ping G2s out there for the unexpectedly low price of $22 via FedEx 4-day ground, which sure beat carrying them on a plane. Somehow the stars aligned and hubby and I decided it was a good time to cross another bucket list course off our list. So we decided to play Torrey Pines South Course.

The website makes it look like a hassle to get a tee time; if you're a non-resident, you either pay a big fee to book ahead or get up at the crack of dawn and sign up for the daily waitlist. We didn't have to do either. Instead, we went in at around 9am on a Wednesday and put our names on the walk-on list for twilight, which starts at 1pm in winter. The starter said to come back around 12:30pm and we'd be out shortly after 1pm. I had a feeling if we wanted to pay the $183 morning greens fees, he would have been able to get us out without much delay. But $110 for twilight was about what we wanted to shell out, so after putting our names on the list, we headed to Carl's Jr. for breakfast and came back at around 11:30am to hit balls and warm up.

There's not much of a driving range at Torrey Pines, although it was a good place to check my distances and try out my assemblage of "new" clubs that I'd procured from the used clubs bins at Golf Mart, including a 12-degree Ping G15 driver and a Ping G10 3-wood that cost me $99 and $49 respectively.

At around 12:20pm, we headed back to the clubhouse to mill about and soak in the atmosphere. You know you're at a famous golf course when there are lots of people just there to take pictures. At around 12:45pm, our names were called, and I nearly wet my pants.

This is it. The big show, I thought. Torrey Pines South Course.

As it turned out, the whole affair started with a bit of confusion. The starter said we'd be going out at around 1:05 or 1:10, so we paid for the greens fees, got a receipt, rented 2 walking carts and headed down to Hole 1. The first holes for Torrey Pines North and South Courses are right next to each other, and there was a kiosk there, but it was unstaffed, so we waited near the first tee ground, thinking they'd announce what time we were actually going out. At around 1:05, I got antsy and went back up the starter.

"What time are we supposed to go out?" I asked.
"1:05 or 1:10," the starter said. He looked at the clock, "You should be on the tee box now."
"Are we 1:05 or 1:10? It's already 1:05!" I said. I didn't understand why the guy didn't give me an exact tee time, like every other golf course in the world. I tried a different tactic. "What are the names of the 2 others in our group?" I asked.
And he told me 2 names which I remembered long enough to run back to the first tee and call out. The two guys on the tee turned around and identified themselves as the 2 people in question.
"Okay, then," I said. "We're playing with you two."

I was a bit annoyed that the start was so disorganized. It was also perturbing at the end of the round when we were returning our pull-carts and the unfriendly staffers kept their heads down without a "thank you for playing" or even a "how was your round?" But I had to remind myself that this isn't a TPC resort course, but a municipal course run by the City of San Diego, with workers about as motivated for the kind of pay they are probably getting.

From that point, the round progressed as usual, with handshakes and self-introductions. One of the guys was a Scottish teaching pro and the other was a shaggy local, the kind who enjoyed hearing himself speak. Later, he would start telling me what I was doing wrong on my putts, and I would feel tempted to punch him in the nose. But for now, I did my best to tune him out and focus on my game.

From the forward tees, the South Course is a manageable 5467 yards. The first fairway is wide and welcoming, with the kind of grass that makes you want to have a picnic. I double-bogeyed the first hole, a par 4, but I didn't feel too bad about it at all.

If you've ever seen Torrey Pines on television, you already know there is a lot of the ocean in view. And parasailers love the coastal winds blowing along the cliffs on the front nine.

Hole 3 is a lovely downhill par 3. The back tees have to carry that scrub on the left. The forward tees are on the right, only 105 yards from the green.

I made it on the green, just barely hanging on the edge.

I four-putted from there. What can I say? The greens are wicked fast and too much mustard could send your ball right over the edge into the ocean.

The course is filled with Torrey pines like this:

And this:

Here's another fairway to heaven:

Look closely and you can see how close my approach shot landed to the pin:

Here was an intimidating par 5 fairway. Rolling hills, multi-staged bunkers.

I made it to this point in two shots. Just one more to get on in regulation. But I blew it. My third shot ended up in one of those bunkers.

On the back nine, the sun started disappearing. We could see the remnants of the Farmers Insurance Open, which Tiger Woods had won just a few weeks before. The excitement still lingered.

The last few holes were a blur. We rushed. At one hole, after I'd three-putted again, the shaggy local shook his head and said, "Right and short, right and short. Don't you see a pattern?" Now I know I suck at putting, but this guy missed so many putts I was surprised he even claimed to be a golfer. I thought he had some nerve to criticize anyone, let alone a perfect stranger.

After teeing off at the 17th hole, hubby and I starting running to our next shots. The Scottish pro had gotten a lift from the cart-riding shaggy local by now, and as they whizzed past us, the shaggy local said, "You don't have to run." And I rolled my eyes, thinking, first you're telling me how to putt, now you're telling me whether to walk or run? Knowing that I would soon be leaving the company of this buffoon was the only upside to realizing that our twilight round at Torrey Pines was soon coming to an end. The Scottish pro, on the other hand, had behaved like a perfect gentleman, exclaiming "Good drive!" or "Good ball!" whenever merited, and remaining politely silent when not.

There's a water fountain guarding the last green, and it was so dark that I couldn't find any yardage markers to gauge the distance for my approach shot. I took a guess with an 8-iron and came up a few yards short. My ball bounced on the fringe and rolled back into the water. Unfazed, I dropped a ball a club length or two from where the ball went in, and chipped it up, just to have the satisfaction of finishing a full 18.

Hubby and I shook hands with the other two, and somehow I think the Scottish pro was sincere when he smiled as he shook my hand and said, "Well-played!"

A Warm Winter Day

It’s cold. It’s February and it’s supposed to be cold, but somehow it just seems colder than it should be. When it’s this cold, I usually do one of two things: 1) compare the current climate to my visit to the Arctic Circle, when I braved a night in sub-zero temperatures at a hotel made of ice, and I say, “This ain’t that cold.” Or 2) remember a warmer time.

I don’t have to think back too far to a warmer time. It was just about two weeks ago, on a Wednesday, when the forecast said sunny and low 50s. I called upon Bea and Dodi for a twilight round. Thank god for them, my fellow golf addicts, who will either work doubly hard to make time for golf, or skip out on work altogether. In Bea’s case, I had called her just as she was arriving at work, and she promptly told her boss she was taking the day off. Good thing her boss is also her husband.

Dodi and I walked, and Bea rode, despite her new year’s resolutions to start walking this year. She had recently purchased a Ping G20 driver, just like mine except hers was senior flex (or, as Ping euphemistically calls it, “soft regular” flex, which I think just sounds like an adjective for something else, after eating a lot of fiber). I told her she should have gone with the regular flex, but her fitter had convinced her otherwise. Still, I was flattered that she purchased the same driver as me. It meant she, too, had noticed that I was getting better distance off the tee.

None of us had played for weeks before that day, and none of us kept score. I was just glad to be outdoors and not at the gym for a workout. I played horribly except for a par 5 that I managed to par. But I felt such joy. It was warm. There was a moistness in the air. It felt like a shower in the sun.

On the back nine, things started to slow down. We were keeping pace, but there was a single behind us and Bea asked him to join us. I was a little annoyed that she asked the guy to join us without asking me first, but I know she prefers to play in front of strangers since it makes her perform better. As for me, the new guy broke up the rhythm we had going. It meant one more person to wait for, one more stranger to act polite for. Plus I could tell he thought he was really good. On one hole, Dodi and I hit our approach shots to just inside the edge of the green. We were both happy to land the green, but when the stranger hit his approach to the same area, he cursed himself, as if he’d made a terrible shot. It was kind of a mood killer, like a certain hole I played that day, when I hit my tee shot to the perfect spot, just to the right of a bunker. I had high hopes of making the green in two. But instead my second shot soared temptingly close to the green, then flared off right into a steep bunker. So the round, like that hole, was only half decent. But as a warm memory, it will do. 

A Half-dozen Long-Stem Sticks

Bought myself some brand-new G20 irons for my birthday, thanks to yet another price drop from Ping. If only I wasn't a winter baby, I'd be swinging those sticks by now. But this winter season has lived up to the usual stereotype of being cloudy and cold. And not the kind of cold that can be fought off with a thick fleece hat and a cashmere sweater, but the kind of cold that hurts to breathe and chills to the bone. Until the deep freeze lifts, my bouquet of fresh-picked, half a dozen red-stemmed G20s are staying indoors. Maybe I should just stick them in a vase.

Sweet Potato Putts

First round of the new year today. It was supposed to be sunny, in the mid-50s, but there was frost on the cars in the morning, so I knew it might take awhile to warm up. I had a 10:20am tee time with Bea and Seri. At 10am, Bea called me to tell me she just woke up. (She says she has a sleeping problem, but she probably just stayed up late watching Korean soap operas again.) I told her not to worry. I already called the pro shop to confirm that there was a frost delay, so our tee time would be running 30 minutes late. Seri was at the golf course early, of course, diligently practicing her putting. None of us had played for about 3 weeks, and it showed. But no matter, we were all giddy with the excitement of another year of golf stretched before us, starting right here, right now, with this round.

After nine holes, the skies turned grey and drizzly, and we contemplated stopping play. But we forged on like good golf girls. The high point of today's round, aside from the mere fact of being outdoors swinging clubs again, was that Seri brought a bag full of boiled sweet potatoes as a snack. It wasn't the first time she'd brought them, and if I haven't blogged about them before, it's because I have been silently appreciating their utter awesomeness as a golf snack.

Today, Seri doled out the sweet potatoes at the 10th hole, and for awhile everyone was very distracted eating them, in all their sweet, starchy wholesomeness. We had a fourth person along, a stranger who we'd actually played with once before but who I didn't remember at first. He totally dug the sweet potatoes, and after eating one, he kept crediting everyone's good shots to the sweet potato "carbo boost." After he made a good putt, he said, "That's a sweet potato putt!" It was a little annoying that he complimented himself on his own putt, but if I'd made any good putts, I would have called them sweet potato putts, too.

Anyway, below is Seri's recipe for boiled sweet potatoes. It requires plastic bags made specifically for microwaving. I am usually wary of plastics used for cooking, but even Seri, who buys only organic everything, says they are safe to use.

Seri's Sweet Potatoes (Known to Encourage Good Putting)

1. Cut up some sweet potatoes into 2-inch slices.
2. Put them into a microwaveable plastic bag.
3. Microwave on high for 10 minutes.
4. Let cool.
5. Bring to the golf course, and enjoy!

Golf Resolutions for 2013

About a year ago, I started this blog by announcing my golf resolutions for the year 2012. Here it is a year later, so it's time to take a look at how well I did.

Resolution #1: Get longer. Did it. I have achieved above-average driving distance with regularity. I credit better technique and better equipment to getting longer. From the Teddy Bear drill to my new Ping G20 driver, it was a year-long obsession, but Big Bopper is here to stay.
Resolution #2: Enter a hole-in-one million-dollar shootout contest. I totally forgot to do this. Usually, my email in-box is littered with announcements on the local million-dollar shoot-out, but somehow, I managed to miss them. Or maybe the local million-dollar shoot-out contest decided to omit me 'cause they knew I'd win. ;)
Resolution #3: Break 90. Did it. I broke 90 and shot an 87 back in October.
Resolution #4: Join a women’s league. I was still to chicken to sign up for an official women's league, due to my unpredictable work schedule and horror stories about one of the local women's leagues demanding new golfers to "audition" for a spot. However, I did form a league of my own, of sorts, consisting of Seri and Bea and me as a regular threesome, with a field of various players stepping in as the fourth.
Resolution #5: Play another charity tournament. Did it. In fact, I played several charity tournaments this past year. Didn't win any trophies, but I did win prizes for closest-to-the-pin and longest drive.

Okay, so 3 out of 5 ain't bad. How about this year? Here's my new list of resolutions for 2013:

Resolution #1: Get longer. Last year I gained about 30-50 yards in driving distance, with an average drive of 180 and a maximum drive of 230 yards. This year, I want to gain another 10-20. I want to average 200 and achieve a maximum drive of 250 or more. 
Resolution #2: Enter a hole-in-one million-dollar shootout contest. I still want to do this, if I can remember. One of the local golf courses usually sponsors one in July. But please email me if you hear of one.
Resolution #3: Break 80. I hope I can do this, or at least score in the low 90s all the time.
Resolution #4: Join a women’s league. This will have to wait till spring, most likely, as most of the golfy women around here pack the clubs away when the temps fall below 50 degrees. 
Resolution #5: Play another bucket list course. Last year, hubby and I played TPC Sawgrass. It was an awesome experience. This year, some of the possibilities include Torrey Pines and Bandon Dunes. I'm not quite ready for Scotland yet. Maybe in another year.

Now if only the temperature would climb back into the 40s, I could start on my resolutions. So far, 2013 has started with a cold, cloudy winter. But the forecast says a warming trend is in the near future. In the meantime, Ping gifted golfers with another price drop, so I will keep myself busy by trying out those new G20 irons. I'll keep you posted...

Two Thumbs Down on the Four-Wheel Cart

Finally bought a new push-cart of the four-wheel kind. Costco was having a deal on a $99 model that looked just like the Sun Mountain one that hubby and I have been eyeing all year. At 15 pounds, it is relatively lightweight, and it does open and close like a breeze. But I tried it out on the course today, and I must give it two thumbs down. Here's why:

1) The wheels only roll straight, so to roll the cart on a curve, you have to lift the front two wheels by pushing down on the handle. After doing this all round long, my triceps are actually sore. My old two-wheeler was much easier to maneuver since I just had to steer with the handle and it would go wherever I pulled or pushed it.

2) You need to kick on the brake to make sure the cart doesn't roll away. My old two-wheeler had a brake that I never had to use since the plate where the bag rests effectively served as a brake by resting on the ground whenever you stop the cart and let go of the handle. Having to step on a brake is yet another repetitive motion that annoyed me.

3) Because it's heavier and harder to maneuver, I couldn't take the four-wheeler all the way up to the collar of the green like I can with my trusty two-wheeler.

4) Worst of all, you have to push the cart. Pulling it is doable, but awkward. The thing I like about pulling my two-wheeler is that it gives me a good stretch in the arm and chest muscles, which are essential to driving the ball long and keeping the arms straight and relaxed. With the push-cart, I felt like my arms were always bent and all my upper body muscles were constantly tensed in the pushing motion. I already spend too much time hunched over a computer, and the last thing I want to do is feel like my back is hunched over a push-cart.

So, it's back to the two-wheel push-cart for me. Maybe I'll try a three-wheeler, though I have a feeling I'd end up with all the same problems as a four-wheeler. Or maybe I will just have to save up some dough for the remote control golf cart.

You Might Even Say It Glows

One thing about being of a certain age is that you get to see fashion trends come and go, and come around again. Take neon, for example. It was back in the ‘80s when neon colors like day-glo pink and fluorescent yellow were first deemed appropriate for use as apparel, as opposed to just highlighter pens. Now, thirty years later, neon is back. It probably came back last year. I am not quite sure, since I don’t really follow fashion. I just seemed to notice a lot of neon colors in stores as I walk around town these days.

Chalk it up to the power of suggestion, but lately I am finding this vibrant neon pink color appealing, so I bought a shirt in that color and wore it with a bright green vest out on the golf course the other day. Even though it’s winter already, the temps were supposed to peak in the 60s. Plus, I was golfing with my hubby and it felt like a date, so I wanted to look even more chipper than usual.

As I strolled up to the clubhouse with my hubby next to me, we heard a golf cart screech to a halt nearby. We turned to look, and the man in the cart leaned out and said, “Well, the good news is, if it snows, you’ll be able to find her!”

I looked down at my bright pink shirt and laughed. Yup, Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer ain’t got nothin’ on me.