I played today what is most likely the last round of the season. It got up to sixty degrees today, and I was comfortable playing in a long sleeve polo. Its the kind of weather we don’t often see in November in Michigan. If this is global warming, I’m in favor of it.

It was, all in all, a good round. I shot an 89 ... and hit many more good shots than bad. My score was higher than it otherwise would have been because I was putting poorly—a rarity for me. I’ll blame that on the uneven condition of the greens. I just couldn’t find the speed.

My best shot was a six-iron from 165 or so over a pond that landed just inches from the hole on a peninsula green. It was one those highlight reel shots that soared gracefullly into the air and when it landed came immediately to a stop. If there had been a little more roll, the ball would have gone in.

I also hit a couple of spectacular three wood shots (more than I would have liked, since I was driving it quite short).  Is there anything more pretty in golf than the flight of a ball after you’ve hit it flush with a three wood? I think not.

Tonight, I’m going to clean my clubs and put them in the shed (I normally carry them in my car). The round was good enough that I don’t think I’ll have the urge to “try just one more.”

I hit the longest drive of my career today. It was on a 411 yard par 4, hitting into a slight wind. The ground was dry and I got a lot of roll. My tee shot landed right next to the 100 yard mark. If I do my math right, that means I uncorked a 311 yard drive.

Holy Cow.

I have no idea how I did it. Needless to say, I didn’t repeat the performance on the next hole (I wish I had, though. The next hole was a 605 yard par 5.)

I used my TaylorMade R7 425 and a Callaway HX Hot ball.

What’s the longest drive you’ve ever hit?

I had a miserable round this evening (here in Northern Michigan at this time of the summer you can play until nearly 10 pm). I shot a 95 and it could have been much worse.

But I have an excuse. I was being buzzed by a pair of horseflies for 16 straight holes. I picked them up somehow on the teebox for the third hole and couldn’t shake them. They were like a bibical plague visited on a golfer. 

Coating myself with bug spray didn’t help. Nor did trying to wave them off with my hat. I tried to outrun them on several occasions, but only left myself winded. The flies just buzzed along right with me. I looked through my bag, trying to figure out what it was that was attracting them. There wasn’t anyting unusual there. I wasn’t wearing anything different, either—just the usual Neutrogena hypoallergenic sun block. And yet somehow, those two had decided that I was the tastiest bit on the course.

Try to imagine the distraction those massive flying devils were causing. Buzz, buzz, buzz all the way down the fairway. Waving my hat constantly, I finally reach my position and get my club. I get set and begin the backswing. And at that moment, one lands on my neck. Knowing that they have a nasty bite I have to stop and try to swish it away. Once again I get set, and this time, one lands on a shoulder.

And after a few holes of this, it became a mind game. I would get set and then hesitate, anticipating a landing. I could hear them buzzing and just knew that they were waiting for the worst possible moment. They seemed to like my backswing a bit better than my downswing—but not by much. And they also were particularly enamored with my putting stance.

Once, one decided to land on my ball just as I was getting ready to make my downswing. I lunged at it, hoping to smash it to smithereens. I missed fly—and ball—and tore up a huge chunk of fairway.

After a half dozen holes, I began to feel like Job, upon whom God visited various pests and plagues to test his faith.  Except in my case, it was the Golfing Gods sending horseflies to test my concentration. I cursed the skies and the course, and vowed that they would not defeat me.

The horseflies won. By the time I got to the 18th, even my normally excellent putting stroke was in shambles. I was putting with one hand, while trying to drive them off with my hat in the other.

But I’ve got a plan for the next horsefly plague: I am adding a can of flying insect killer to my bag.

I’ve just completed my own personal golf marathon.

I played 18 on the fourth of july starting at 6 pm. On Wednesday, I played 36. And this morning, I played another 36.

And I walked it all.

That’s 90 holes in less than 48 hours. And I shot one of my best rounds of the summer on the last 18 today: an 85.

I’m exhausted. But I can say that walking that much golf has given me an insight into what happens to players in multi day tournaments. It’s obviously the legs that go first. I’m in good shape, but on the last 36, my legs were starting to feel like rubber bands. And as my legs got more tired, I lost distance and accuracy. I found that I had to focus even more than usual to stay on plane and make clean shots. Without a strong leg base, I found that I was slapping at the ball, rather than driving on it.

I’ll see how I feel the rest of the day before deciding whether to try another 36 tomorrow.

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve developed a swing flaw that caused all of my shots to fly very high, left and not very far. I kept working on it, but no matter what I did, it just seemed to get worse.

As a coach, I’m pretty good at analyzing what’s wrong with someone else’s swing, but I have a hard time figuring out my own. Finally, I decided to seek professional help. I called my pro friend and he promised to squeeze me in after a juniors clinic he was putting on Monday.

I showed up at his club and we drove out to an isolated hole. I teed up the ball and took a swing. High, leftt and short.

And that was all he needed to see. He had me make a couple of adjustments and my next shot was lower, straighter and much, much longer. So was the next one. And the one after that.

The whole “lesson” took about five minutes.

Now I have to say that he as a real advantage when it comes to giving me a lesson. He’s the guy who taught me to play. He also taught me how to coach golf, and for a while he coached golf at our district’s one high school while I coached at the other. He knows my swing so well because it’s an imitation of his own.

So what was I doing wrong? A couple of things:

First, my ball was too far forward in my stance. I moved it back. That cured the height problem.

Second, I was bringing the club back too far inside on my backswing. He laid down a yardstick and had me bring the club back along the line until my shoulder rotation naturally pulled it in. He also had me shorten the backswing so my arms wouldn’t collapse at the top. That cured the distance problem.

And finally, I was going too fast on the whole process. That apparently was causing me to snap it left. So I slowed it down and the ball went straight again.

That was Monday. I went out Tuesday to play a round and work on my revised swing. The first couple of holes were not very good. I dribbled the ball off the first tee and popped the ball up on the second. But on the third, I striped it down the middle 250 yards. My drives for the rest of the round also were good ... at least until the 18th hole, where I snapped two straight balls left into a pond. I slowed down and the third sailed long and straight.

On Wednesday, I’m going to play at a very tough local course. We’ll see if the lesson sticks.

My swing has become a total mystery to me. I am hitting the irons well—I planted a seven iron in the middle of an elevated green today from 160. Not as good as many of you, but quite good for me. And I am hitting my fairway woods well. I hit a three wood today to a green from 210.

But my play with the driver is pathetic. I am barely breaking 200 yards off the tee. My shots go WAY up into the sky and then fall with no roll whatsoever. They’re straight enough ... I’m splitting fairways ... but I’ve got to get more distance. I’ve tried widening my stance, and using a flatter swing plane. No luck. I’ve also move the ball back a bit in my stance. Again, nothing.

I hate to say it, but I may have to out and pay for professional help.

On the bright side, because my iron play has been so good, I’m playing well. Today, I shot an 87 on a course with a 69.7/128 rating.

My Father’s Day gift to myself: I’m spending the entire day in my lazy boy, watching the US Open, with a big plage of cheese cubes, celery sticks, broccoli, carrots and hot ranch veggie dip.