The Outing Through Blurred Vision

The rain sounds so cold, as it hits the sunroom roof, and your wife wonders “Are you golfing?” (Apologies to some formerly known dude who was formerly another dude who wore a Raspberry Beret). The USJPL golfing fundraiser was in question as the dark clouds and heavy downpour swamped the tomato plants in the back yard. I turned to my lovely bride and answered stoically, “Well, we are going to the course….Worse case; we end up at Neil’s playing cards.”

I then prophetically grabbed my sunscreen and headed to the garage to place it in my tattered golf bag. As I did, the noise of Darren’s car whirred up the driveway. I ran inside to grab my raincoat, while he grabbed my bag and shoes and tossed them in the trunk. As Sean and Bill would say, "If a sailboat showed up on the course, I was ready" with my foul weather, bright red and yellow, reflecting jacket.

We were off like a prom dress!!

Upon arrival at the course (ten hours and 500 miles later, we should have just gone to Wisconsin). We entered the building to see the lovely Heather and her sidekick Holly, accepting cash and handing out trinkets. Darren and I pawed over a hondo each and gratefully accepted the balls, tees, towels and ….best of all…. Drink tickets. We bought a six pack and headed to the cart and driving range to meet up with the rest of the crew. All the notables were there….Sean, Neil, Jimmy, JP, Russ, Billy, Adam and Joe. After a couple of worm burners, pop corns and shanks, we were all read to go.

Off to the Races

At the first tee, Neil insisted that we wait for the signal, but the ultimate authority on decision making decided to proceed with play. Let the undesirables worry about the rules; we were here to drink…er….play golf. After a ball in the woods, one in the creek and a little pop fly, the anchor took the tee. With a wince of pain as he stretched and contorted his 40 year old body, his long shaft, little head struck the ball and placed it beautifully 210 yards down the middle of the fairway. The game was afoot.

Off like a herd of turtles through peanut butter.

The foursome of Brown/Cass/Sheen/Stockel faired well getting to the green many times with makable birdie putts, but continued to squander the opportunities. Each player of the foursome contributed admirably, with Uncle Jimmy coming alive and winning the MVP for the team. Billy played golf like cards, started well, then go distracted and fell apart. Darren played consistently like Darren, while I struck some very good balls (no comments or your next Al) and then hit some others that were a bit forgettable. One memorable shot was a 185 yard, closest to the pin, 4 iron that was smooth as Kessler. It was a buttery stroke that couldn’t be reproduced in 100 years. The ball stuck 8 feet in front of the hole, where I managed to soon putt in for birdie. That single shot was good for a monetary prize that was soon returned back to the charity.

Off our Rockers

When all was finished, the aforementioned foursome scored 2 under par, while the Parmentier/Haas/Stafford/Woodruff team did better at 4 under, but no where near the 9 under it took to win. However they did manage to win a sponsored “skin” that paid for a round of drinks for the table. Additionally they took $6 each from our foursome in team skins.

It should be noted, that much of the event was a blur after the first 6 beers on 4 holes. I have been told by many people that I was drunk, including Russ’ mother on 17 (poor woman, having Russ as a son). But I can’t really remember if I was drunk or not. All I remember was eating a nice steak dinner and sitting next to Ms. Holly, who was very attractive in her own right. Then I got a ride home from Mr. Darren and struggled to stay awake and watch my kids until 9pm.

Off The Wagon

Overall, a good time was had by all, as far as I remember. Mr. Woodruff’s outing was a well organized, well oiled machine. All participants appreciated the daily updates and constant information about the teams, times, etc. For those who couldn’t be there it is a shame.

Like Flies on a Toilet Seat - Pissed Off

My clubs have once again found there way to long term storage. They smiled at me as I put them in the garage, harkening back to younger days of shooting in the high 80s and throwing balls away instead of losing them. Maybe they will come out again this year in August, maybe they won’t. But it was a nice day with good friends and cold beer.

Off the Cuff

Birthday Boy Shares His Presence

  After enjoying a cigar and some pregame beverages, I was ready for event number two. Since it was my birthday, I was hoping some luck would come along for the ride. As we sat down for the beginning of the event, the first bit of luck fell into place. Apparently, Mr. Kraft was unable to make the event due to some pressing needs his place of employment. As it turns out, the money we give him on a bi-weekly basis is not quite enough to live on. I was especially grateful to Terry who provided me with some flip top Grolsch and a decent amount of his chips. Some outlandish statements were made, bets were placed, and some of us were left shaking our heads. As play continued, I found my way into a hand with chip leader, Billy. After flopping top pair with flush draw, I sense my opportunity to relieve Bill of Terry's chips. My joy from Billy's announcement of "I call" was quickly tempered upon his shoulder shrug and revealing his set of eights. His set turned out to be no match for the birthday luck. My stellar play was rewarded with a river flush. With my new found chips, I was ready to make some noise.
  Unfortunately for me, Dennis had already been eliminated thus leaving Neil and JP amped for raising. As the pizza awaited our arrival to the table, I was in a hand with the Dread Pirate Parmentier. Thinking I had an advantage--since I could actually see my cards--I call his predictably arbitrary raise. The flop fell 7-7-2. JP makes a rather large bet at the pot. I go in the tank. I start muttering and drop the nugget, "I just don't think I have to ability in my game to call your next bet, but I think I have you." I fold and JP mockingly prompts, "I had you" and flips over the A-K off suit. Upon seeing this, I attempt to test the craftsmanship of the drink holders of the wooden umbrella that is JP’s poker table. With a slight tap of the table, my biggest fears were realized. The drink holders were just not deep enough. Neil's fresh beer escaped from the bottle creating a slight concern. But this time, I had my way from the table to avoid cleaning up. After enjoying dinner, we settled in for the rest of the event. As my chips dwindled, I began to channel former USJPL member, Russ.
  I came to the conclusion, that I only had one move. As JP and Neil continue to win pots and frustrate Darren, I bid my time for the big hand that will move the chips back in my clutches. It is just a matter of time until I look down and spot the A-J of spades. Since I only have one move, I am trying to figure out how to get a caller. Out of absolutely nowhere, JP throws out a rare raise. I counter with "All In". Thinking I would get a call from JP no matter what, I am shocked when he actually tries to decide if it is worth a call. After picking up each card to peer at it with his one good eye, JP gives the dreaded, "I shouldn't really call, but hopefully I have live cards." With a patented shrug of his shoulders (so as not to disturb his new friend Polly), he turns over K-10 off-suit. Being a veteran of USJPL events and countless other encounters with JP, I feel as though I am a 5-1 underdog in this instance. Much to my surprise the flop reveals an Ace and three different suits. My confidence starts to build. Before the next card can be peeled off, the peanut gallery pipes up. Neil takes a quick look at the board and announces the end of the hand since there is nothing that can help JP. Just as the words escape Neil's mouth the turn reveals a 10. Neither Ben Mezrich nor M. Night Shyamalan could not have written a better ending for JP. To the amazement of absolutely no one (except a few African tribes that still believe the sun and moon are carted across the sky), the river brings a King and the end of my quest for a birthday win. The only joy taken comes from the chorus of onlookers that scream, “You got JP'd.” That even brings a hint of a smile to my face. In the end, I am just happy to be part of the legend that is JP.