I did it! On Sunday I played Mountain View again and while the guys I play with all realistically expect to break 80 (and shoot 82) at this course, my goal was to break 100 — from the whites. I shot a 98 with two snowmen on the front (52) and 46 on the back with one 2-par streak on each side. It’s not a difficult course – par 69 for men and 70 for women. The whites are rated 65.0/112 for men and for women the whites are 70.7/121 and the red ratings are 67.3/115. Because of this, some might discount the accomplishment and require it be done at a more challenging course. I mean, I’ve shot in the 90s from the whites at Westlake but that doesn’t count. However, I feel it was challenging enough and I golfed well enough to count it. I played 4 under my handicap for the day so that should say something. I haven’t tried the reds at Mountain View yet – maybe next time I’ll go and try to break 90 from the reds which would be another milestone. I haven’t done that anywhere — not even Westlake where par is only 67. The closest I’ve come is 92.

I made solid contact all day and my main struggle continues to be alignment. Alignment on the greens, for sure, but also from everywhere on the course. I think I’m lining up one way and I’m all askew so even when I strike the ball well it doesn’t go in the right direction. I’m trying now to stand behind the ball looking at my target, then following that line back to my ball and choosing a closer target on that line that I can see when I address the ball. It’s helping, but I’m still struggling. My two eights were due to putting problems. Argh! I specialize in 3-putting, but I also throw in some 4-putts from time to time, just to make things exciting.

My driver was off for the first half, too. I was hitting it well but the ball kept veering right. Not like I was lined up that way, but like a fade or a slice. It wasn’t so severe that it got me into trouble — though on another course results might have been very different. I was so proud of myself for figuring out the problem and correcting it on the back nine. During my backswing on the tees at #10, I noticed the ball was too far back in my stance. Luckily, this realization didn’t cause me to mis-hit my tee shot. So then I corrected the ball position on the rest of the holes and by golly, the thing went straight where I aimed it. Have I mentioned I love my driver?

I also played with the same ball the whole round. We’ll just have to wait and see how long that streak lasts.

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It was Saturday, May 28, 2005, six days after my hole-in-one at Tierra Rejada. This time, I was with Greg and we had gone to visit his mother for the Memorial Day weekend up in Placerville. There’s a really nice golf course near there in Camino, California called Apple Mountain. It’s cut into the Sierra Mountains and the terrain is just beautiful. You couldn’t walk this course if they’d let you. As a twosome, we got paired up with a couple guys from the area. It was my first time playing the course and I was having a great time, and playing rather well. The course is known for swallowing up balls, but we each only lost one that day.

We got to #17, and one of the guys with us just happened to ask if either of us had ever gotten a hole-in-one. “As a matter of fact…” I told him about the one I just had last Sunday. The guys proceeded to tee off from 130 yards and all landed the green, pretty close to the pin.

Here’s a shot of the hole. If you click on it, you can see their golf balls surrounding the flag stick.

We went up to my tees (a mere 85 yards) and that same guy tried to give me club advice… something like I should really be using my pitching wedge instead of the sand wedge that was in my mitt. Whatever. I stuck with my choice and teed off. We all watched as the ball landed softly a few feet in front and just right of the pin, and rolled with a purpose right into the hole. It was great to see it go in this time, and even though I saw it, I had difficulty believing it. After my first ace, I heard so many stories about people who play for years and never get one. Two in one week? Not possible. Greg threw up his hands, then we celebrated a little the way a couple might and the other two guys shook my hand.

And here’s the one you couldn’t see – mine in the cup! Look – the flag sticks are actually sticks!

I went on to play the worst hole of the day on #18, really struggling and finally taking a 9x. I guess I was off in la-la land. Even with that, I still shot a 93 that day, which for that course was 6 under my handicap. I’m lowering it pretty steadily, but these ace days are unusual. The only other times I’ve played this well overall is during tournaments. Something about competition makes me focus, I guess.

This place didn’t have much of a bar to speak of, so there was no drink buying policy. They gave me a plaque with a tee and a logo ball right then and there and submitted my name to the local papers (Greg’s mom sent me a copy).

One of my favorite things about getting an ace? Not having to putt! As I mentioned in a previous post, now I see the value of practicing those short par 3s at Sinaloa!

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It was Sunday, May 22, 2005. I was at Tierra Rejada by myself, talking to management about the lesson fiasco. When all that was settled, I asked if they could get me out to play. After a short wait, they put another single with me and sent me out, free of charge. The guy’s name was Alonzo, and he seemed like a fine playing partner for the day. I still feel compelled to apologize in advance for any blunders I may make due to my beginner status, especially when playing alone, because people often assume that I’ll be better than I am if I’m willing to get out there by myself. So we get that out of the way. He played the regular white tees and I played the reds (they’re actually gold at Tierra).

We both made decent tee shots on this par 5 #1 hole. Then we both struggled a bit and wound up taking a pair of sevens. Got that out of the way, on to hole #2. It’s a par 3 with an elevated green. 130 yards for Alonzo, 105 for me, uphill with a little wind, pin in the front. He hit his a little long; we could see it go over the pin but we couldn’t see the green to see where it landed. There’s nothing but weeds and trouble behind the green, so you don’t want to be long, but if you’re short you still have to come over the hill to the green so you don’t want to be short. I teed up with my pitching wedge, took a little bit off my swing and hit a fine shot right at the pin. It had to be close. Alonzo said “that might be in the hole.” Yeah right, that’s what people say. I just laughed and I drove us up the hill. As we approached, we saw that my ball had rolled back onto the fringe at the front of the green. Like I thought, a fine shot. Alonzo was just off the back but not in the weeds. Also a fine shot on not the easiest of holes. When I got to my spot, I realized the object we thought was my ball was actually a cigarette butt, which I announced to Alonzo and I glanced around quickly, and didn’t see anything else around. We looked at each other and ran to the hole and sure enough, there it was! We laughed and jumped around and high-fived and hugged and had a glorious time. Neither of us had ever witnessed a hole in one before. We celebrated a little longer and then Alonzo putted out (I think he made par, but I was a little delirious). This was only the second hole; we had a lot more golf to play. Alonzo proceeded to tell everyone we ran into (the guys in front of us, the guys behind us, the marshall and the cart girl) about my achievement. On the fourth hole, the cart girl informed me of the policy that when you get an ace you have to buy drinks for everyone in the clubhouse. I told her to keep the news to herself and I didn’t want to see a crowd down there when we were done. I shot a 98, which was 5 under my handicap based on my index and course handicap that day (I created a calculator I’ll share with you later) so it was a record round in that respect as well. Plus, I got off easy at the clubhouse — there were only four people in there. The club had me fill out a form, and had Alonzo sign it as my witness. Then they had me sign my ball (I actually kept the original and gave them a duplicate) and they put it on display in their ace case. So yes, it was my first Eagle, it just happened to occur on a par 3!

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I’ve never been one for traditional learning. Even in school, my tendency was to forgo classes, learn on my own, and pass tests. Now that the only exams I face are real world situations and how I deal with them and come out the other side, it’s even more important to me to achieve. Now I’m accountable to me. When I enter into any kind of endeavor, it is unacceptable to not succeed, or what was the point? Admittedly, I’ve been known to give up before I really get started on something, that way, in my own warped mind, I haven’t failed if I never really tried. I’ll confess here and now that failure is probably my biggest fear (creepy-crawlies notwithstanding). If I make it known that I’m actually attempting something, I simply must end up being good at it. Therefore, if it doesn’t come naturally, I actually have to put forth effort! Generally, I prefer the former. This could be part of the reason for the level of my golf addiction. There’s only so far you can get on natural ability and instinct. Even before I took it up, I proclaimed golf to be not a sport, but a discipline. This is probably what kept me from taking it up until now. Too much dedication required. Things should just come naturally. Maybe the fact that I entered into it with this knowledge indicates some level of maturity. Crap.

So, do you need a teacher to be taught? I’ve been learning from watching, from reading magazine articles, a couple of shows on the Golf channel, and from conversing with other golfers. It’s amazing how willing golfers are to share what they know with a beginner. I’m still improving on my own, but I was thinking I should probably get some real lessons before I develop too many bad habits. Some people have encouraged that and some people think it’ll just mess me up and that I’m doing fine on my own so far. At one point, I did reach a plateau of sorts, and decided it was time for real lessons if only to get me jumpstarted and headed back to forward progression. A teaching professional at a nice course near me (Tierra Rejada) was recommended to me and when I met him, he made me such a great deal that I went ahead and pre-paid him for a year’s worth of lessons. I was so excited.

At my first lesson, he laid out a plan for my development. One lesson a week for a year, starting with several weeks of nothing but short chipping, and working our way back to a full swing, stopping for bunker and putting work along the way. He was even going to throw in some playing lessons and course management. I was thrilled. The first thing he did was change my grip. I chipped and chipped and chipped and as soon as he left, I took my new grip to the range to test it on my full swing. I was amazed at what a difference it made. So much more consistent and powerful. When I left the course that day I was rejuvenated and walking on air I was so excited. I really felt the potential to get good at this game! I came home, wrote down all the notes I could think of from what he taught me and planned on doing the same thing every lesson and keep a really good log so I could go back and reference it when I struggled. I had two more lessons just like that: chipping, chipping, chipping and more chipping. At the end of the third lesson I pleaded with him to just give me a few pointers on my full swing because in between lessons I was still playing rounds and wanted to implement what he was teaching me in the short swing to the full course. He did what I asked, and we spent another 15 minutes doing that. That was the last I saw of my teaching professional.

The guy simply vanished. His phone was disconnected, the club told me he no longer worked there and had no other way to reach him. I was devastated. Not just because of the money I paid him, but I was really learning from him and liked the way he explained things to me. I have heard various reports of how many people he ripped off, anywhere from 5 to 30 other suckers like me. Apparently, none of us got our deals in writing, and we admitted to receiving some lessons, so who’s to say that wasn’t the agreement? The police are trying to build a case against him now, but it’s difficult because of the verbal contracts. I heard he’s seeking employment at other courses in the area. If someone hires him, I’d really just like to get him to follow through on his commitment to me instead of pressing charges or just getting my money back. But this time, I’d get it in writing. And what about Tierra Rejada? It was the fact that he worked there that gave him the credibility in my eyes to trust that our deal was for real. Shouldn’t I get some kind of recompense from them? Well, at first they tried to wash their hands of any responsibility when I called them on the phone. When I went down there in person, they were much more accommodating. They said they couldn’t provide the year of lessons but that they would be willing to give me one of their six lesson packages. I would rather have had 52 free rounds at that course, which wouldn’t really cost them a thing, but I was satisfied by their offer. Then I asked if they could get me out to play while I was there. They put me with another single and sent me out for a round free of charge. It was a round I will never forget!

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Hitting the ball at the range and at the scrappy little course near my house was so much fun. I never even watched golf on TV so at this point I’m incredibly naïve about what is still to come. So, I’m “ready for Westlake.” Apparently, that means that I have enough knowledge of the rules and etiquette to get through a round without disrupting or offending anyone else’s game. I was happily surprised at how polite and civilized this game was turning out to be. Of course, as in every avenue of life, golf is not immune to the occasional moron gumming up the works. But I digress.

It’s August 20, 2004, and I am embarking on my first 18-hole round. If anyone remembers what that was like, you might recall it was a little intimidating. Am I going to brain someone or tear up the grass or just embarrass myself at every turn and have to pick up my ball and get out of everyone’s way? Thankfully, none of the above occurred. Maybe I picked up my ball once at about 11 on a green, but all in all, not too bad. The intimidation factor quickly vanished and I became immersed in the game and the challenges it had in store for me. It was so much fun to get out there and attempt some longer shots. Clear some water. Navigate some trees. A new challenge awaited my every hit. Before I even got through two holes I was excited and wondering when I’d get to play again. I saved all my scorecards so I’ll look up what I shot that day, but I’m on the road right now (my day job keeps me out of town most weeks). For now, suffice to say that my score was appropriately bad enough for my first time out, but I’m sure not my worst, and good enough for a beginner to really encourage me and grow the addiction. Update: I looked it up and it was 111. I suddenly had a new attitude. Screw that little nine-hole jobbie. That won’t do at all. 18 or nothing for me from now on. Of course, now that I’m oh so experienced at 10 months in I see the value of practicing those 100 yard shots at Sinaloa (the aforementioned nine-hole jobbie), but I’ll get to that later.

Now, as I mentioned, Westlake is an “executive course” and a pretty short par 67 track. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time because I had nothing to compare it to, but I already realized my irons weren’t going to cut it all the time. I had to go out and complete my set with some fairway woods. So I headed back to Golfsmith and did just that. The shoes and the clothes started coming into play a little later.

Does anyone else notice how far away golf courses seem to be? No matter how far I have to travel, it takes FOREVER to get there when it’s for golf. Westlake is about 15-20 minutes from my house and all the way there I had the antsiest pants ever. I’m still really eager to get to whatever golf course I play, but nothing like those first few times. Oh my god, and when we drove about an hour to Santa Barbara the first time I didn’t think I would make it! I never wished for teleportation technology more, and I’m a pretty big geek about stuff like that. This game is great! Obviously at this point I’m still new enough at that I have yet to be completely frustrated. That didn’t last long. Soon enough I was comparing myself to people who have been playing for years and coming up short most of the time. I’m competitive and have high expectations of myself, so it probably took me about a month before I first muttered to myself about hating this damned game. I love this game, I hate this game, I love this game. Sound familiar? Even now, I still hear “welcome to golf” from Greg when I say something like “I thought of something random in the middle of my backswing.” Turns out I’m not having unique struggles. That’s so cool! No wonder there’s so much camaraderie with this game and that people can talk about it endlessly and there are so many magazines, blogs, television shows and other sources of information dedicated to it.

On that note, I think I’ll start a list of reasons I love golf. Not in order of importance, of course, but there’s the first: Reason #1: The “brotherhood.” Sorry sisters, figure of speech.

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Why oh why did I wait so long in life to take up golf? I guess I thought it was silly to smack a little ball as far as you could, traipse after it and search until you find it only to hit it away again once you did. Turns out I was right. I just didn’t know how much I would enjoy that silliness.
Late last summer (August 2005) I finally discovered for myself why so many people are crazy for this activity. I had been wanting to try golf for a few years, and it was my boyfriend Greg that got me out to the range and let me swing a few of his clubs. He is completely self taught, but he was able to articulate a few of the basics of the swing, and beyond that it was pretty much “monkey see, monkey do.” As you would expect, my first swings were awkward and pathetic. I got a hold of a few, though, and wanted to try again very soon.

Next, he took me to the local nine-hole par 3 dogrun where we hit balls at the range before renting me a wedge and a putter to go try the actual game. I don’t remember my score that day (oh yes, we kept score) but it had to have been in the 50’s or 60’s. From day one I have counted every stroke and refused to take any mulligans. Taking my medicine is part of the learning process. Plus, it helps me learn the rules as far as where to take a drop and what kind of penalties are imposed in what situations. I learned more about rules and etiquette that day by far than I did about how to play better. Gotta start somewhere.

I think we played the nine hole course one more time before I went out and purchased some clubs of my own. I was already completely hooked. I went down to Golfsmith and went all out. I must have made the sales clerk’s day when I walked in and said I needed everything. He got me set up with irons, a putter, a bag, balls, tees, and a driver. I was told I wouldn’t be needing a driver for awhile but I went for it anyway. I’m glad – today it’s my favorite club. I could only hit it at the range, since the longest hole on the course we were playing was barely more than 100 yards. Soon, Greg determined that I was “ready for Westlake.”

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