Didn’t die (yet) at the hands of the American medical industry, but that’s not what I came to talk about.
Came to tell you about my efforts at working to get my strength back.
And a band.
And a ball.
And a triple bogey.
First rehab effort was 6 holes of golf in a cart and 4,000,000 degrees heat. So we decided not to play any more and we went to a restaurant. Sustenance helped.
Second effort was 15 minutes of hitting golf balls on the golf practice range, in 2,000,000 degrees heat. It was better, but still awful, so we decided to not hit anymore and went for more sustenance, which was better, and good.
Third effort was 8 walks from the Arch in St. Louis to the stadium in St.Louis, over 2 days, for 2 Cards/Dodger games and accompanying hilarity. Hilarity was best. But always good to be home.
Today, I played 9 holes - again in a golf cart.
On the 9th hole, I hit a Titleist NXT golf ball toward the lake. Might could have hit 1 of 2 trees - but experience says “wet.” But I still go look. Never kill hope on purpose.
I arrived at the scene of the potential crime.
I see a white, round item.
I get closer and see the word “Titleist.”
Hope is sprangin.
I tilt the ball enough to see the other side.
And there,
there on the other side,
in the middle of the other side,
away from everything else on the other side,
in capital letters,
read the following words:
”LITTLE FEAT”
I pocketed their ball. It had clearly been lost and abandoned.
Plus, it was an upgrade - a Titleist Pro V-1, which you’d expect from a great band.
I then hit another of my crappy, white trash Titleists into the lake from its very edge.
In in 1, out in 2, in in 3, out in 4, hitting 5 still laying behind water and under trees, from 180 with only a shot toward a sand trap and no shot at the green.
I took my mandatory adjusted-handicap 7 and drove to the car.
Came to tell you about my efforts at working to get my strength back.
And a band.
And a ball.
And a triple bogey.
First rehab effort was 6 holes of golf in a cart and 4,000,000 degrees heat. So we decided not to play any more and we went to a restaurant. Sustenance helped.
Second effort was 15 minutes of hitting golf balls on the golf practice range, in 2,000,000 degrees heat. It was better, but still awful, so we decided to not hit anymore and went for more sustenance, which was better, and good.
Third effort was 8 walks from the Arch in St. Louis to the stadium in St.Louis, over 2 days, for 2 Cards/Dodger games and accompanying hilarity. Hilarity was best. But always good to be home.
Today, I played 9 holes - again in a golf cart.
On the 9th hole, I hit a Titleist NXT golf ball toward the lake. Might could have hit 1 of 2 trees - but experience says “wet.” But I still go look. Never kill hope on purpose.
I arrived at the scene of the potential crime.
I see a white, round item.
I get closer and see the word “Titleist.”
Hope is sprangin.
I tilt the ball enough to see the other side.
And there,
there on the other side,
in the middle of the other side,
away from everything else on the other side,
in capital letters,
read the following words:
”LITTLE FEAT”
I pocketed their ball. It had clearly been lost and abandoned.
Plus, it was an upgrade - a Titleist Pro V-1, which you’d expect from a great band.
I then hit another of my crappy, white trash Titleists into the lake from its very edge.
In in 1, out in 2, in in 3, out in 4, hitting 5 still laying behind water and under trees, from 180 with only a shot toward a sand trap and no shot at the green.
I took my mandatory adjusted-handicap 7 and drove to the car.
