I continued my love/hate relationship with golf this weekend by hitting balls at Chelsea Piers yesterday and going out on the course in New Jersey today. I had some really good holes (loved 'em!) and some really bad holes (hated 'em!). The good ones were very, very good (loved 'em!) and the bad ones were very, very bad (hated 'em!). You could even describe them as ugly. But my best hole was the 11th (loved it!). I was well rested after taking a break between the front and back nine, and back in my groove after the 10th hole. The 11th hole of the course is a short one; a par three, only about 130 yards from the womens' tee to the hole. I used my five wood; I generally prefer my driver but that would have been way too much club for that distance. I did what I usually do: I teed the ball up, lined my feet up properly, closed my eyes, swung the club and said the "go in the hole" prayer. And it worked. Just about. According to the caddy, who was near enough to the hole to witness it, my ball hit the green, rolled to the hole, rimmed it and came to a stop about two feet back. I almost had a hole in one! I was able to put it in for a birdie. While my father and uncle (who play golf weekly and sometimes daily) struggled for a par.
And then I shot eight on the par three 12th hole.