Winter Golf and My “Watson” Moment

And the season begins! An unseasonably warm spell in the Hudson Valley this week had all us golf starved hackers chomping at the bit for a few holes of real golf.

With zero snow on the ground and temperatures nearing 60 all that was needed was a course to play. And thank god there was a little nine holer just minutes from my house that stays open all winter. As long as there is no snow they’re open and this past Tuesday they were packed.

You would have thought it was July not February as the parking lot was jammed and there was a healthy wait to play. But with an early case of spring fever I couldn’t resist. No matter how crazy playing golf up here in the middle of winter sounds it beats living room floor putting.

So a friend of mine and I joined the dozens of dedicated and demented fools that teed it up in the middle of winter. And we all had a ball.

Normally, I’d be counting the days until March or trying to prod my regulars for a Myrtle trip but with winters like we are having up here I may just be able to make it to spring.

Sure, the course was a bit beat but the greens were acceptable and “winter rules” gave me a fine lie no matter where I sliced it to.

It was clear and warm and a joy to behold as we walked the entire round with dumb smiles on our face. There wasn’t an ill word uttered all round, even when a wayward ball whizzed past my buddies head and landed at my feet…followed by a weak “fore.”

We were playing golf, in February when we usually would be house bound staring at the Golf Channel.

When we got to our last, the ninth my buddy pushed is drive wide right in front of a group of trees and then the memories of one of my greatest wins came flooding back.

It has to be at least twenty five years ago when my brother and I had decided to get a quick nine in.

I was the “experienced” golfer and had convinced my big brother to start playing this addicting game. It was always the other way around as we grew up as I always followed him into everything.

It was great having an older brother blaze a trail for me in most everything I did. But golf was different. I had started playing first and he was the one following me for a change.

On this day we were closely matched and I had him by a single stroke heading into the last hole. Back then it was me that had sliced my tee ball in front of those trees that my pal was faced with now.

My brother striped one down the middle and I was faced with a shot Seve or Norman would have trouble executing.

However it happened (Golf Gods intervention I believe) I manged to slice it around the trees and it headed for the green rolling like a bat out of hell.

My brother was well on his way to being a clutch player and struck a solid iron to the center of the green and was thinking birdie.

My miraculous shot didn’t have such a good finish. I found it a few feet off the green buried in long grass in a depression that the mowers just skimmed over and could never cut. I was in jail…big time.

I can see the look on big bro’s face…he’s got a birdie putt and I would be lucky to hack this thing out of its grassy grave. He’s thinking “this is a win!”

But strange things happen on a golf course.

I stepped up and did my best Tom Watson impersonation. I chopped it out onto the green and it rolled right in the hole…birdie! Watson himself couldn’t have done it better.

Big bro was so crushed he missed the birdie, settled for par and I walked away with a win. And a great one.

But that was then and nowadays brother has mastered a soft draw, a deadly putter and is a single digit.

Me…my slice is a solid as ever and I rarely come close to topping my brother anymore.

But I’ll always have that “Watson”moment. It gets me through the winter.