Thursday, May 11, 2017

The Golf Shot

I had a really good golf shot Tuesday.
It's a rare thing for amateurs like me
to hit a really good golf shot.
Now, "golf shot" is a term of art in golf.
It's not just any ordinary good drive,
or iron shot, or chip.
It's a specialty shot to get around trouble
or obstacles of a high degree on the official golf shot
degree of difficulty scale.
It's a skilled shot that requires a degree
of accuracy and coordination
equivalent to a black belt brain surgeon
like Buckaroo Banzai,
or the guy in the pit at Jiffy Lube.
So what was this great "golf shot" you ask?
Well, I hit my drive on hole 18 into the wrong fairway.
Not a great golf shot that, you are thinking.
But then I had to hit around and over some high trees,
a sand bunker in front of the green,
from about 170 yards,
with the possibility of winning $1.50 on that hole.
Talk about pressure.
So I took my stance, espied the target
through a sightline gap in the
forest of death wall in front of me,
swung mightily, like Casey at bat, heard the
perfect click of the golf ball
on the club face of my #3 hybrid, and then watched.
My "golf shot" rose like a phoenix from the ashes,
soared like an eagle, maybe a hawk,
around and over those high trees,
gently curving onto the green, bouncing
twice or thrice, and settled to rest
where I then two-putted for a par
from about 40 feet.
The spin on the ball has to be done just right
or the ball will move left to right
or right to left not enough or too much.
Why so pleased with yourself about a shot
that lands 40 feet from the hole you ask?
Well, first you try it and let me know how you do.
Ok, that was a bit snarky. I'll tell you.
Just because sometimes it's a shot like that
makes your round and
stops you from throwing your clubs
into the local pond
and compels you to try again next week.
It's Plato's ideal shot of the good,
it's Robin Hood firing an arrow
into an arrow and splitting it
down the center of the shaft,
it's perfection, truth, and beauty
on a Grecian urn.
It's a moment of unity with the universe,
a zen thing,
a shot that would make the Buddha smile,
a Summa Theologica of dufferhood,
a transcendentalism of the 5 handicapper.
It's a golf shot heard round the world.
It's the shot God would have made
on the seventh day if God had
had the sense to golf.
My cart partner Bob was appreciative
having hit his shot to six inches on the
previous par three hole and was having his
own epiphanic experience and
was the only one of our foursome
to see the shot, as my other two partners
were hitting and cursing their way to the green
in our usual ordinary manner
and weren't even watching me.
I told them all about it several times though
as we debriefed our rounds and settled up the bets.
I will tell them again at the earliest opportunity.


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