The Golf Gods are a cruel bunch. They tease you and tease you and lead you on and then bring the hammer down on you to crush your dreams.
Such was the case for me as my ’15 golf season came to an end.
I guess I shouldn’t be so miffed that my golf season ended when it did, after all playing any golf in December while living in New York’s Hudson Valley is a bonus. But two weeks ago it was an unseasonably warm fifty degrees and my buddy and I scampered out for a bonus “Christmas Time” round.
As luck or the Gods would have it I played one of my best rounds of the season. It was a season that started late after rehab from shoulder surgery that found my swing taking forever to come round.
It was a season that was marred by the “power fade” that quickly turned into that “damn slice”. It was a season scarred by the fact that I couldn’t really practice and saw my shot saving short game desert me and to add insult to injury my trusty (stolen from my Greek Brother) putter lost its magic.
But as the season faded and we celebrated a snow-less Thanksgiving we were able to still play up here. And my game must have loved the colder weather as I was finding my stride as others were doing their Christmas shopping.
We vowed to keep playing as long into the winter as the weather and the courses would allow. And as we played on the matches grew closer and closer. One shot was all that separated my buddy and me the last few times we played.
But as December carried on the courses closed up shop and we were left with one place to go mano y mano.
Two weeks ago the weather was fair enough to play. But right before our next match Mother Nature canceled play with two inches of ice and snow and I was left scratching that itch of another good round of golf still left to play.
Today it is fourteen degrees, the courses are closed and my season is done for sure. I am left with the memory of that last round, where fairways were uncommonly hit, chips rolled close and putts fell as if Jordan Spieth had hit them.
I guess it could have been worse and my memories could have been from a poor round. But this was a round that sparked the inner golfer in me. It was a round that gave me hope for a better game. It was a round that screamed, “get back out here soon.”
But it was the last round. Those Golf Gods are a cruel bunch.
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