Larry Gude
Strung Out
...I've been playing golf with my nephew since he was six; 9 years this summer. He is an ubber jock who is good to great at everything; baseball, basketball, soccer, golf, you name it. He's always been a star on his teams, is a darn fine young man and super student as well. I get credit for the golf part.
In any event, I've always known that THE DAY would come when we'd hit out t shots from the same t's and we'd stroll down the fairway, get to a ball and he'd look down, identify it and casually remark "You're away, Unk..." and continue his walk another 30 or 40 yards to his ball as I contemplate my shot, the lie, wind, pin position where to miss and my shrinking position on the food chain.
We've joked about this for years, THE DAY, and he has looked forward to it (honestly, I have as well) with some relish, but not so much to beat the uncle as what it means about his advancing game. His swing, from day one, is just sick; it makes Tigers look kinda short and jerky. He is the epitome of syrup. Also, he's beat me twice so far. He still remembers the dates, the courses and what we shot and I have been away dozens, perhaps hundreds of times. However, he has the grace to readily concede that those were the bygone days of him playing the lady's t's (that's forward t's for those touchy about such things, Aunt Elaine, LOL).
So, this past Saturday afternoon, had the day arrived? We hit the range to loosen up already knowing we'd be playing the same t's today. Right away, I noticed the sound. A well struck golf ball makes a distinct click when it hits the sweet spot and an equally distinct fffffffffff as it explodes though the air. I haven't picked up a club since February and I knew I was in trouble, right here, right now.
His ball flight was no longer the gentle arc produced by a smooth swinging kid who would topple over if he swung too hard. It was now a GOLF SWING; a violent act of grace and control that produces a ball flight that has just been TOLD where to go and how to get there. Same smoothness, same effortless back swing, just past parallel to a full finish, but now, at 5' 8" and long limbed, force was being applied.
So, motivated by sheer terror, I got my act together, was pleased to find the basic swing was OK, I could get the thing airborne and in the general direction and off to putt we went. Oh, uh, one more thing from the range; The blue flag was about 250. He flew it. I bounced one on.
So, we putt, we needle, my knees stopped shaking and we're off; idyllic early spring day, warm, great golf course, me and neph walking 18.
We both make note, as I won the honor, that now the season officially begins. A well struck, but pulled, 3 wood goes in the bunker but rolls out, about 90 yards to go. Good omen! Neph rears back and FFFFFFFFFFF off it goes, he pulls his as well, lands on the cart path about the same distance as mine but bounces forward another 60 yards, catches the bank and rolls in the short grass 30 yards short of the green. Bad omen for unk.
His par, my bogey.
Anyway, we had a fantastic day, both played well and I won with a par on 18to his bogey, 88 to 89. We had a bunch of par/par holes, one par/birdie thank you very much, no one in front of us, no one behind.
Notables; On 4, he dribbles one off the t, 370 yard par 4. Hits his 7 wood over 200 to just short front right. This thing was majestic!!!
On 7, brutal par 4, 400 back into the prevailing wind, a bit uphill all the way and I SMASH my drive, down the right side just shy of the 150's. And then it happened. For real. Our balls are about 3 yards apart width wise. We get to the first one, he looks down and "You're away, unk." He'd hit this towering draw of his, just a thing of pure beauty, and he had me by about 10 yards. We couldn't see who had who from the t's and enjoyed the stroll knowing they were both good.
Then, #8, par 3, 170 into the same wind but with no trees blocking any of it. I'd kept the honors from my lone bird of the day two holes ago and I'm up. Gotta be a two club wind. So, again with the pull, but a well struck four iron, a bit long and 10 yards left of the green. He steps up and BLAM, 4 iron, another towering, majestic draw...a club too much. Damn, it was a beautiful swing.
9, #1 handicap, brutal, brutal par 5, two super t shots. I got him by 20 yards to keep the battle going. Pair of boges. #10, he got me by 10 yards. On this went, trading good shots, decent putting, some good short game play.
So, he doesn't own me yet, but, we're in the same league. My best is still a little better than his.
I mentioned his age and height. Did I mention that he weighs 117#'s?
In any event, I've always known that THE DAY would come when we'd hit out t shots from the same t's and we'd stroll down the fairway, get to a ball and he'd look down, identify it and casually remark "You're away, Unk..." and continue his walk another 30 or 40 yards to his ball as I contemplate my shot, the lie, wind, pin position where to miss and my shrinking position on the food chain.
We've joked about this for years, THE DAY, and he has looked forward to it (honestly, I have as well) with some relish, but not so much to beat the uncle as what it means about his advancing game. His swing, from day one, is just sick; it makes Tigers look kinda short and jerky. He is the epitome of syrup. Also, he's beat me twice so far. He still remembers the dates, the courses and what we shot and I have been away dozens, perhaps hundreds of times. However, he has the grace to readily concede that those were the bygone days of him playing the lady's t's (that's forward t's for those touchy about such things, Aunt Elaine, LOL).
So, this past Saturday afternoon, had the day arrived? We hit the range to loosen up already knowing we'd be playing the same t's today. Right away, I noticed the sound. A well struck golf ball makes a distinct click when it hits the sweet spot and an equally distinct fffffffffff as it explodes though the air. I haven't picked up a club since February and I knew I was in trouble, right here, right now.
His ball flight was no longer the gentle arc produced by a smooth swinging kid who would topple over if he swung too hard. It was now a GOLF SWING; a violent act of grace and control that produces a ball flight that has just been TOLD where to go and how to get there. Same smoothness, same effortless back swing, just past parallel to a full finish, but now, at 5' 8" and long limbed, force was being applied.
So, motivated by sheer terror, I got my act together, was pleased to find the basic swing was OK, I could get the thing airborne and in the general direction and off to putt we went. Oh, uh, one more thing from the range; The blue flag was about 250. He flew it. I bounced one on.
So, we putt, we needle, my knees stopped shaking and we're off; idyllic early spring day, warm, great golf course, me and neph walking 18.
We both make note, as I won the honor, that now the season officially begins. A well struck, but pulled, 3 wood goes in the bunker but rolls out, about 90 yards to go. Good omen! Neph rears back and FFFFFFFFFFF off it goes, he pulls his as well, lands on the cart path about the same distance as mine but bounces forward another 60 yards, catches the bank and rolls in the short grass 30 yards short of the green. Bad omen for unk.
His par, my bogey. Anyway, we had a fantastic day, both played well and I won with a par on 18to his bogey, 88 to 89. We had a bunch of par/par holes, one par/birdie thank you very much, no one in front of us, no one behind.
Notables; On 4, he dribbles one off the t, 370 yard par 4. Hits his 7 wood over 200 to just short front right. This thing was majestic!!!
On 7, brutal par 4, 400 back into the prevailing wind, a bit uphill all the way and I SMASH my drive, down the right side just shy of the 150's. And then it happened. For real. Our balls are about 3 yards apart width wise. We get to the first one, he looks down and "You're away, unk." He'd hit this towering draw of his, just a thing of pure beauty, and he had me by about 10 yards. We couldn't see who had who from the t's and enjoyed the stroll knowing they were both good.
Then, #8, par 3, 170 into the same wind but with no trees blocking any of it. I'd kept the honors from my lone bird of the day two holes ago and I'm up. Gotta be a two club wind. So, again with the pull, but a well struck four iron, a bit long and 10 yards left of the green. He steps up and BLAM, 4 iron, another towering, majestic draw...a club too much. Damn, it was a beautiful swing.
9, #1 handicap, brutal, brutal par 5, two super t shots. I got him by 20 yards to keep the battle going. Pair of boges. #10, he got me by 10 yards. On this went, trading good shots, decent putting, some good short game play.
So, he doesn't own me yet, but, we're in the same league. My best is still a little better than his.
I mentioned his age and height. Did I mention that he weighs 117#'s?
