Golf man, golf...

Last night was one of those great nights in Kansas, where the weather is wonderful and not yet too hot. I was able to play 9 holes at Alvamar with Seth Jones ("Jonesy") and Andy, a friend of Seth's a another fun guy to shoot a round with. I fortunately beat the both of them, shooting a 45 that was highlighted with a finishing stretch of par, par, birdie, bogey. (In the photo above, I nailed my drive on the uphill 6th, spotting the drive just a short pitch from the green in the middle of the fairway.)

I think I finally conquered one of my nemesis holes out there, the par-5, dog-leg 8th. I mashed a great drive (the big dog was barking LOUD all day, and I think it scared Jonesy's shitzu) that cut the corner on the dog-leg and nestled comfortably in the fairway. Sitting about 155 out I pulled the six-iron (the green is waaaay uphill, a very tough approach shot) and hit a crisp approach that left me on the green in two, with a legitimate eagle putt. I watched Seth and Andy dry hump the green (Seth was in the midst of shooting a score for which there is no number, and Andy blew his putt off the front of the green) so I left my putt a good three feet short, but made the come-backer for the birdie. Easily the best I'd ever played that hole.

The finishing 9th hole also provided a bit of controversy, as Jonesy maintained that on my tee shot I hit a bird in mid air (he had had a few beers at this point, as had I). To be honest, I hit the ball so far the naked eye wouldn't be able to see if it hit a bird, so I'm not sure if I did or didn't. I can only assume that in future rounds though I'll be greeted with a chorus of "bird killer, bird killer!" taunts from Jonesy. Once on the green, I did resort to my woeful putting though, and had a bad two-putt for the bogey. All in all, I felt like I struck the ball well, my putting just needs to come around. Always something to work on.

And also, Lerve, I need you to relieve the curse you placed on me on the fifth hole at Alvamar, or as we now know it, "the hole were Lerve went bat-shit crazy." You remember this, doncha? Profligate swearing and club tossing? Yeah, last time we (Jonesy and I) played this hole, I made a dumb mistake and mentioned your melt down, and I haven't scored less than a double the last two times I've played it (not to mention my awful, awful drives from that damn tee). So, I've tried everything, cursing your name, begging forgiveness, even "pouring a sip out for my homies who couldn't make it," but nothing works. So, do me a solid and lift the curse. Real chicken, fried chicken, whatever it takes. Just get Jobu off my back. Thanks.