I play golf about as often as Vulcan’s mate. But a neighbor asked me to head out to Iron Play on Saturday for 18 holes at this par-3 course.
My game can best be described as the Tin Woodsman in the Wizard of Oz before he gets lubed. I won’t go into my scores except to say that I’m handicapped by all my clubs. But there was one shot that was somewhat memorable only for the sheer luck of it.
I don’t remember the hole, but I know I topped an 8-iron that went screaming toward oblivion. Lucky for me, oblivion was obscured by a grouping of trees. My tee shot caromed off a forward tree and landed safely on the green. I think I three putted after that, but the shot makes a good story over a few beers. Except I don’t drink beer.
So, it’s just a pretty lousy story for an even worse player. But it made all three of us laugh at the time.