I got a 12 -- on one hole!

By: OANow Staff | Opelika Auburn News
Published: June 18, 2007 | 0 Comments | Post a Comment

Someone recently informed me her golf handicap was a 4. My golf handicap is my entire game. Frustration increases with each passing round. Even Jennifer Foster, a reporter here, could whip me blindfolded -- and she's big-time pregnant. Heard she shot a 42 on the back nine the other day.
I shot a 12.
On the last hole.
Really.
Jennifer texted me, proud of her feat on the links somewhere down in Florida. It inspired me. If a pregnant woman can break 90, I can break 100, right?
Almost.
Through 17 holes at Auburn Links, my scorecard revealed a 92. I took more mulligans than golf balls have dimples, but I don't care. I paid to play, so I'm gonna do it my way. Bad karma caught up with me on No. 18.
Needing only a 7 to break 100, my tee shot was a thing of beauty -- a towering drive that came to rest only 15 yards short of a large gully. It was my best shot of the day. Roughly 120 yards shy of the hole, I grabbed my trusty 8 iron from the bag. I'm great with that club. The shot felt great. The ball lofted high and had the look of a keeper. Almost was. Shoulda been.
The ball bounced at the front of the green, then rolled backward -- into the sand trap.
Not bad. Two shots and I'm at the edge of the green. So I'm in the sand, big deal.
Originally from Daytona Beach, you'd think sand flowed through my blood. Not this sand. It was the trap from hell. Once you get in, you never get out. Hack one. Hack two. Hack three. Hack four. Cuss word. Hack five. Bad cuss word. And on and on.
In a matter of two minutes, my promising hole and best-ever round except for my rampant cheating, was gone.
Violently angry, I threw my clubs in the bag, jumped into the golf cart and raced back to the clubhouse. Just another relaxing day at the golf course.