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My Scorecard
every round I've written down, the good, the bad and the 131

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I keep every scorecard in a shoebox on the shelf in the hall closet. Doreen says it's a fire hazard. These are the rounds that mean something, one way or the other. Most of them are at Long Branch, the city course on the west side, nine dollars to walk on a weekday and fourteen with a cart on the weekend, which I don't take because walking is free and I walk for a living anyway.

I play with Ron Ornelas, who drives the route next to mine and took up the game a month after I did because he was tired of hearing about it, and with Harold Ardis when he'll have us, and with Martin whenever there isn't homework, which according to Martin is always.

HANDICAP INDEX
(through the men's association at Long Branch)

June 1998: 29.4  →  January 1999: 24.8  →  September 1999: 20.6

Going the right way. Tiger's is better.

Date Score Notes
1997
Saturday, May 3, 1997131My first round ever. Lost 14 balls. I counted every stroke because Martin was keeping score and he does not round down. The group behind us let us know how they felt about our pace.
Sunday, June 15, 1997118Father's Day. Martin caddied and gave me advice on every shot. Most of it was "hit it straighter." Thirteen strokes better and he took credit for all of them.
Saturday, August 9, 1997112First round with Ron. He shot 127 and I was nice about it for almost a whole hole.
Saturday, October 25, 1997109Harold Ardis was the single in front of us and waved us through, and then watched me tee off and asked if he could show me something. He fixed my grip in five minutes. I'd been holding the club like a hand truck.
1998
Saturday, March 21, 1998114Winter rust. The pond on number 7 took three balls. I have decided that pond is personal.
Sunday, April 12, 1998106Played early so I'd be home for the end of the Masters. Mark O'Meara won it with a putt on the last hole. Tiger finished well back. Martin was disgusted.
Saturday, June 13, 1998104Joined the men's association so I could get a real handicap. First index: 29.4. Ron said it sounded like a temperature.
Saturday, July 18, 1998102Ninety-eight degrees. Drank the cooler dry by the 12th. Two from breaking 100 and I three-putted the last two holes.
Saturday, September 19, 199899BROKE 100! Sank a six-footer on 18 for it. Ron and Harold both saw it. I called Doreen from the pay phone by the snack bar. She said "That's nice, honey," which I am allowed to write down because it's my wife.
Saturday, November 7, 1998108The golf gods felt I was getting cocky after September. They were right.
1999
Saturday, February 20, 199997Forty-one degrees and wind. Nobody else out there but us and Harold. New best. Harold shot 79 in a wool hat.
Saturday, April 10, 1999101Masters weekend and I tried to hit it like Tiger. I am not Tiger. Noted.
Saturday, May 22, 199994Myrtle Beach, anniversary weekend. Doreen let me play one round as long as I was back by lunch. I was back by 1:15. We are still married.
Saturday, June 19, 199995Cleared the pond on 7. Stood there and watched it land like I'd invented the airplane. Then I triple-bogeyed 8.
Saturday, July 17, 199998Played with Martin, who shot 104 and is twelve. I need to have a talk with myself.
Sunday, August 15, 199993Early tee time so I'd be home for the last round at Medinah. Played fast, played good. Watched Tiger win his second major with my spikes still on.
Saturday, September 4, 199989BROKE 90!! Two birdies, one of them a chip-in from off the green on 14 that I will be describing to people for the rest of my life. Harold shook my hand. Harold doesn't shake hands.
Saturday, September 18, 199996Back to earth. The course was soggy after all the rain this week and the ball plugged everywhere. Not an excuse. Fine, a little bit of an excuse.
Saturday, September 25, 199992Teed off at 7:10 so I'd be home for the Ryder Cup. Ron and I played a match, American rules: he was Europe. I won 2 and 1. I'm calling that an omen, and look what happened Sunday.

What two and a half years have taught me

  1. Take lessons early. Harold's five minutes on my grip were worth more than every magazine I've bought since.

  2. The putter is half the game. I spent the first year hitting drivers at the range and three-putting everything.

  3. Count every stroke. If you don't, the only person you're fooling is the guy who has to play with you next week, and he knows.

  4. Rake the bunker. Fix your ball mark. Fix one more while you're at it.

  5. Bring your kid. Martin and I talk more on a golf course than anywhere else. Something about walking side by side for four hours.

  6. Don't try to hit it like Tiger. See April 10.

My goal for 2000: an index under 18, and to beat Martin one more year before he passes me for good. I give it about eighteen months.

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Last updated Sunday, September 26, 1999