For most of you, that title will mean nothing. Some of you don’t play gold, don’t want to play golf and are not interested in gold. Some of you are golfers and enjoy walking around these beautiful parks and watching a little ball bounce around a pasture. Me, I have no idea what I am. For a number of years, I would go out once a  year with friends and relatives to a place far from home and eat, drink, gamble and play golf. For me, the least important thing was the golf playing.

We had traveled around the U.S. to as many casinos as we could because our maître d’ was a gambler and was able to get all sorts of comped stuff. That was playing golf in my mind. The riding around in the carts and getting off once in a while to strike a white dimpled ball was just an add-on to the frivolity of the meal, the drink and the gambling. It is forever imbedded in my mind.

I got a call from Tom a few days go saying that he had seen my name on a list at the pro shop. I had said that I was a duffer (another name for an incompetent golfer) and that I would be able to play some golf on short notice. I was really hesitant to answer back and say no. I agreed to play if it was nine holes on an executive course. I was encouraged when he said that was his plan. Who can play 18 holes in 95 degree heat? I guess there are many people who can do that. I did see some of them. For me and Tom and Bob (a really good golfer) and Gary, 9 holes was the limit.

I even wore my Puerto Vallarta poplin white jacket to shield myself from the blazing sun. I doused myself, mostly my face, with unguents and potions to keep from frying. As usual, my first hole was a disaster. I could see the looks on the other gent’s faces. They were with someone who was going to hold them up just looking for lost balls. What I did tell them was that I usually don’t look for lost balls. I let them lie quietly under the moss, trees, and long grass that surround most of the fairways.

I believe that 8 strokes on a hole on this Executive Course (which means small and hilly) was an ominous prediction of what might happen later on. Surprising to say, that was the worst of it. While the others were parring or bogeying holes (one over par), I was satisfied with getting sixes on par 3 holes. I even managed to get a couple of 4’s. My final score was legitimate 48, only 18 strokes above par.

My lasting memory of yesterday’s golf is the amount of water that dripped off me as I walked to my car. There was no part of my body that did not exude my saltiness. I am not sure where this will lead me, but I am sure that I am not going out to golf in 95 degree heat anymore.








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