I’d been feeling light-headed for a couple of weeks, and last Friday, Mrs. Golfblogger, the nurse, finally put her foot down. She made a doctor’s appointment and ordered me to attend (she’s also a retired Air Force Captain, so she knows how to give orders). I went in expecting the physician to find I had an inner ear infection or vertigo, or something that required big pills. Instead, after poking about and peering in my ears, nose and throat with a lighted instrument, she put me on an ekg.

Now that’s a scary moment.

Good news. I wasn’t having a heart attack. But what they found was a strange little blip—a rabbit ear, as the doctor described it. On the graph it looks like little upward blip just before the big one. It’s almost like my heart has a little stutter.

“Nothing to worry about,” she (the doctor) said.

Then she immediately went about making me worry by referring me for a stress test. That’s where they hook you up to a bunch of wires, put you on a treadmill and make you run like a rat on a wheel.

Or maybe not so much. When I made the appointment (for later this morning), the clerk said that I should wear comfortable clothing for fast walking.

Fast walking. I can do that. Just like walking and getting a round in under three hours—something I do all the time.

Mrs. Golfblogger suggested that I might feel better if I wore a pair of golf pants, my favorite golf shirt and a pair of cleats.

I just might do that.

My beloved Mountaineers play Louisville tonight.

Lets Gooooooo Mountaineers!

Its my favorite day of the year. I turn another year older at midnight tonight.

The Golfblogger is going to be in San Diego in a couple of weeks and would love to get up a game at Torrey Pines with someone. The best day for me would be Thursday the 16th, although Friday the 17th also could be a possibility.

Anyone in San Diego want to play? 

Although I carry a fifteen handicap, I have long been convinced that I should be much better. I can drive the ball long and straight, hit high accurate shots with my irons, pitch and chip reliably and putt as well as any pro.

The problem is that I can’t seem to do all of those things at the same time. I have rounds when I drive well, but my chipping falls apart. Or I chip well, but consistently hit the irons fat. The only constant is my putting.

But on some occasions, at least, the planets align, and everything seems to work.

I had one of those rounds this past Thursday at the annual school district employee tournament/outing. My round started like any other, with four straight bogeys. I took three to get to the green on the first par four and then two putted. An errant tee shot on the second forced me to waste a stroke chipping out of the woods on the second. I missed the green, chipped up and two putted on the par three third. Another chip out of the woods cost me on the fourth.

But then came a long string of pars. I pounded drives down the fairway, hit greens in regulation, and two putted. Reaching a 500-plus yard par five in two got one back. Although there were no more birdies, the pars kept coming. On one hole, I saved par by chipping in from behind the green. Another took a forty foot putt. A couple were a chip from off the green and a putt. Driving the green on one hole, I three putted—a missed opportunity.

Finally, I reached the eighteenth needing only a par five to shoot 80 even. And I went Phil Mickelson. I hit a long drive, but it leaked left into the rough behind a line of trees. From there, I had two choices: chip sideways back to the fairway, or take a risky shot down the line through a gap in the trees that would have put me right around the 150 stake.

I went for the long shot. I had been striking the ball very well all day, and saw no reason I couldn’t repeat. But I chunked the shot, dribbling the ball behind a tree. From there, I had no choice but to chip out. After three shots, I was only a couple of yards past my drive.

That was mental mistake number one. I could have saved a stroke by punching out right. Even if I had chunked that shot, the ball still would likely have cleared the trees and given me a better look at the green.

Knowing that I needed a five for a personal best round, I took out the three wood and fired a shot at the green. I struck it well, but it fell just short and bounced into a greenside bunker.

Mental mistake number two: I should have laid up and then launched a high iron into the green, taking the bunkers out of play.

It took two shots to get out of the bunker. Then I two putted for an eight. And I finished with an 83.

As quickly as the planets align, so too do they scatter.