With the agenda posted, all the PLAYERS were present, if only to show up.
Day One was no picnic at Myrtlewood’s Palmetto. Some of us played it before and most of us would like to forget it. Not that the course wasn’t fair nor the mind willing… insert excuse here. Only 8 total GIRs. The buffet at Captain George’s Seafood Restaurant did not disappoint. Well, there was no more cherry cobbler, so I had to substitute with four others: apple cobbler, banana pudding, lime cake, and a dish of twisted ice cream.
Day Two’s grind at Burning Ridge’s Kings North and Wild Wing’s Avocet did not fare much better: 7 , then 9 GIRs. Think about that, only 24 GIRs for 432 holes. So, we worked on our chipping, putting, and even more excuses. One geriatric decided shooting his 80 was good enough and declared low round for the day. Too bad it was for 12 holes.
Day Three at Whispering Pines and no afternoon round suggested we could just let it all hang out. Nope, the sluggish play continued with just 9 more GIRs. At this point, we knew who could drive, chip, and putt: Louis Oosthuizen at The Players. After the round, Joe came out from under his rock and discovered a “new” restaurant called Chipotle. Knowing I was already out of the running for Champion Golfer of the Year, I picked up a 22oz souvenir Liberty Brewery cup as the trophy for after tomorrow’s finishing matches.
That Saturday evening, we restocked on golf balls, potato chips, and played Texas Hold’em. And Kyle learned he sounds exactly like Charlie the Unicorn by an overzealous, red-headed Rite Aid cashier named Victoria. Uh, yeah, she wanted to climb his candy mountain. OK, so did I, but I was already promised to “cherry cobbler” by my new bud, Hetu.
Day Four was full of promise (for a few) with the easier slope ratings and yardages, but I was the cheering section for the “other” match between the Oh’fers in Matthew and Joe. My money was on Matthew and he came through, with Joe somehow managing a birdie without using his Hand Wedge. Matthew celebrated his victory that night watching B&W movies. Meanwhile, Kyle dispensed both of the Hurst brothers, and doing it on only 4 hours of sleep in 3 nights. My match says it came down to the 18th with a 7-7 tie, but I knew better that a short missed putt on the par 3 17th sunk me instead. Roger emerged victorious with a perfect 5 – 0(*) record. The * is for the YouTube training videos on his smartphone and swinging an umbrella to tune his tempo.
The last day’s match was so much fun, because we got to see sooooo much more of what Myrtle Beach National means by its natives. Fortunately, it’s a well-run establishment and getting off without too much hassle by the Starter made up for the earlier morning’s drama.
What did I learn by this new experience? Matthew and Joe showed me where I could be in 6-years, so I am taking much pride in the 6-months of rehab post meniscus repair as I left unwounded. Either Hetu can really putt, or his boyish charms earned him a few extensions off the “leather” — after all, who can kick a puppy? Conversely, Mike could not buy a putt — perhaps he was just too tired after playing every hole as 600 yards? Randy demonstrated he was King of the Sand, and the blisters on his hands were victorious battle scars. You want Roger on your side when he’s bitching at someone else on your behalf (thanks for getting the A/C fixed!), as you don’t want to be on the receiving end of those tirades. Kyle can expect a new Titleist driver and Hetu will get his R15.
Thanks for the memories, it was fun. The summary for the rounds, matches, and stat lines can be fetched here.