The lower the score, the worse the golfer

They call it "Village GREENS" for a reason.

I started this blog almost a year ago to chronicle my attempt at becoming a better golfer. (It seems like it's been that long since I posted anything.) Since then I've played about 69 (tee-hee) rounds of golf, gone to the driving range, taken a five-week Get Golf Ready class and worked with an instructor in a private lesson.

Am I any better? If you judge by my scores at one course, I am. Earlier this week I played Village Greens, a par-56 course in nearby Sinking Spring, Pa., and shot an 85. That's more than 30 strokes better than the first time I played in August of 2011. So, yay for that.

The problem is, Village Greens, nice as it is, is much shorter than a typical golf course. And on those courses -- where you have to play more than two par-4 holes, not to mention the occasional par 5 -- I am nowhere close to improving.

For instance: Last September, I shot 152 and 133 at two par-70 courses. That's roughly 76 and 66 per nine holes. The last two times I played 18 holes of a regulation course, I shot 119 (yay!) and 140 (sigh).
The few times I've played even nine holes on a real course haven't been any better: 67 at one course and 72 at another.

Maybe it's too much to expect vast improvement over just a year's time. I'm certain the main reason I improved so much at Village Greens is that I play it often. (In my defense, the course is inexpensive and fast; I can complete a round of 18 holes in two hours or less.)

Another possibility is that the shortness of the course allows me to skip over a key part of the game: fairway shots. I don't often hit the green in regulation, but even on the par-3 holes, I can manage with a pitch or a chip to get there in two. I rarely -- just twice per round, to be precise -- need to hit the ball a great distance after the tee. And that's where I continue to struggle when I do play most par-4s and 5s. So by the time I get to the green, any chance I have at saving bogey -- even double bogey -- is ruined. By then I let the rest of my game suffer, too. (At Chapel Hill, as you'll see below, I managed two putts or fewer on just three of the nine holes.)

That's the big lesson: I think it's time to start playing regular golf courses, even if it's just nine holes at a time. Berks County, where I live, has a number of scenic, affordable courses where I can test myself -- and, perhaps, get a little bit better.

At least do better than 67 for nine holes. I mean, I know I'm a bad golfer, but that's just pathetic.
Now for the scorecards. First the good:

Here's how I played at a REAL course:

What's YOUR biggest golf weakness?

Everyone needs a bad day of golf

Some of us more than others experience a bad day on the golf course.

First off, I recognize that a bad golfing day is relative. Phil Mickelson has a bad day when he doesn't come home with an oversized check. A scratch golfer has a bad day when her handicap goes up. My dad, who as a rule doesn't like golf, has a bad day whenever his annoying son drags him out to the course.

For me, a bad day is when I play even worse than normal -- and normal is usually 40-50 shots over par. I started the year playing at Village Greens, about which I write here often. I thought my scores were on track for improvement. Here's what I shot so far this year at the par-56 course:

• Feb. 21: 105

• Feb. 24: 97

• Feb. 27: 98

So today I went out again, to see if I could keep my score in the high 90s or -- dare I dream? -- break into the low 90s. I was on track through the first eight holes to keep it close. I double bogeyed on five holes, scored 7 twice and one 6. Then on the ninth hole, I lost any hope for a good (for me) game. My first tee shot on the 260-yard par 4 dribbled about 40 yards to the right. I tried a second tee shot that fared no better; it went into the woods on the next fairway.

I played my first shot, as I should have anyway. It came to rest about 3 inches behind a rock embedded in the ground. I swung with my 5-wood in faint hopes of getting some loft and hitting the ball over the hill so it would roll toward the green. Instead, it hit the rock 3 inches away, spun in the air and came down half a foot from where I hit it. In frustration I hit it again and it went into the woods.

This is where I decided to start over again. I teed up a new ball, which again went about 40 yards. This time I played my mulligan the whole way, taking six pathetic shots just to get it on the green, and another three putts to sink the ball. I ended with a generous 9 -- generous because I didn't penalize myself for the first balls that I lost.

After that I gave up. I played the back nine with just five clubs, abandoning any hope of playing well. The strategy worked, somewhat, because I bogeyed two holes and inexplicably made par on hole 12. Improvement was rare, however; I scored 24 on three holes, including the last two. So the back nine ended with 51.

The biggest problem, once again, is that I have trouble pitching. I also had trouble today hitting my 9-iron from the fairway. Every time I used it I topped the ball, causing it to limp a few yards along the ground. So instead of making the green in two shots, as I ought to be able to do, I would need three, four and sometimes five shots to make it.

I putted well enough to save myself on a few holes, but at that point, who cares? The difference between a 7 and a 6, even at my level, is insignificant.

So here's my scorecard from today's round. The consolation is that I can do better. Whether I do or not is anybody's guess.

Drive for show, putt for dough, and improvise on everything in between

Who would have thought that a golf game I played on the antepenultimate day of February would be my fifth -- FIFTH! -- game of the year? In the Northeast, weather has been practically nonexistent. Bad for the planet, bad for crops, but good for my golf game.

Regrettably, a beautiful day for golf.

So yes, I am personally benefitting in the short term from the destruction of the planet, but I do feel bad about it.

In the meantime, I played Village Greens on Monday, for the third time this month. The good news: The weather was perfect. (Sorry, earth!) The bad news: I showed no improvement over my last game. I scored a 98, one worse than the last time.

I should feel frustrated that my game didn't improve, but I was just happy that I stayed the same in two areas that have improved in the last few weeks: shots off the tee and putts. In short, the beginning and end of each hole are fine; it's the middle that causes me trouble. This is partly why I prefer to play at a par-56 course instead of a regulation course. A six on a par-3 hole is better than a 12 on a par-5.

Still, I accomplished just two bogeys for the round, and one of them -- on the 95-yard 13th hole -- I managed only because of a one-putt. I actually putted fairly well on the front nine, needing three putts on just three holes. The back nine was the reverse: I managed two putts or fewer on just three holes.

The site of my last bogey. For lousy golfers like me,
bogey is good.

The par-4 18th hole, a 305-yard uphill challenge was my undoing. Though my tee shot was fine and my third shot -- with a 5-wood about 100 yards from the pin -- landed on the green. But I muffed my second putt and it took me two more to hole out.

Here's my scorecard from Monday's round. I managed a symmetrical score: 49 on the front nine, 49 on the back. I still have a long way to go, but I'm reasonably confident I can keep my score in the double digits -- at a par-3 course, at least.

At a real golf course? I'd have to hope to keep it under 120. Make that 130. I'm still not nearly good enough to break 50-over par.

Golf round - Village Greens, Feb. 24

Even on a rainy day, you have to keep on the sunny side. No matter how bad your game might be, focus on the positive.

You can't see it, but I totally hit the ball in the middle of the fairway.

Friday, for instance, I took pride in some unusually good putting. I played Village Greens -- which, as I often mention, is a par-56 executive course with just two par-4s. The best I ever did was a 90 in October. My most recent game was not that good; I shot 97, with not a single par for my efforts. But then, I make par about as often as Liam Neeson makes a joke. (Not often, in case you were curious.) I took solace in the fact that once I reached the putting green, I seemed to know what I was doing. A little.

I credit the "Complete Encyclopedia of Golfing Techniques" for my improvement. Over the winter, such as it was this year in the Northeast, I spent some time reading the book, laughing at the golf fashions (white belts? really?) and studying the tips for how to grip the club, how to stand and how to swing. The book provides basic advice on the swing, the short game, the putt and other areas, and basic advice is what I need.

Now I finally know where to put my feet, where to put my hands and how hard to hit the ball when I'm putting. Seriously. I never knew this before. So once I got the ball to the green, unless it landed six inches from the cup, it could take me one stroke or sixty to finish the hole.

On Friday I still had a few three- and four-putts, but on more than half the holes, I could finish with two putts (and in two cases, one putt).

The late great Harvey Penick deserves credit for this, as well. He wrote in his "Little Red Book" something about the first putt should be on a line to get close to the hole; the second should aim for the hole itself. I take that to mean, don't worry about sinking the ball on the first putt. Instead, use it to set up the shot that will get the ball in the hole.

So that's how I approach each green, and, with one exception -- I let frustration get the better of me and four-putted on the 10th hole -- I managed two putts or fewer on 12 of 18 holes.

In the overall scheme of things it didn't put a huge dent in my score. It's not like I shot a career best, and in many cases a two-putt made the difference between a triple or quadruple bogey. I only single-bogeyed on five holes, with no pars (let alone birdies) to my scorecard.

But it's a start. Now I can worry about every other aspect of my game.

Black and white and green all over

"Who are you?" Scott asks when I tell him that I played two rounds the other week.

Scott's confusion is understandable. When I lived in Seattle, I played golf maybe -- maybe - once a month, less if possible. He knew me from those days, when my play was laughable and I wore my frustration on my sleeve. No wonder he was puzzled at my newfound enthusiasm for the game.

These days, I have even more gusto for golf than anyone would have thought possible. (Though I still can't bring myself to watch it on TV -- let's not go crazy.) I have recently discovered the joy of reading about golf.

Actually, writing that sentence, reading about golf sounds a lot less exciting than watching it on television. No matter. I stand by my decisions.

At a used book sale this weekend, I hit a goldmine of golf books. These should keep me busy during the offseason, which will start any second now.

Notice any similarities?

The giant "Complete Encyclopedia of Golf Techniques" is something I doubt I would buy new. But the price was right. I have no idea if it will be helpful.

As for the others, I'm particularly looking forward to these two:

As I have written before, my putting game is pretty awful -- well, not pretty but it is awful. So I hope these two books will help me in the offseason. 

As for the rest? There's the obligatory Harvey Penick series:

The golfing memoir:

The literary anthology:

And, last but not least, the collection of 19th-century golf writing, without which no golf library is complete. Note the faux-leather binding:

You shouldn't judge a book by its cover, and I didn't. I picked this up because of the sweet fabric-and-pewter bookmark in the middle.

Future blog posts on these individual books are almost certain. Meanwhile, what are some of your favorite golf reads? Discuss in the comments.

Here's to the bad golfers

I can't watch golf on television. I never could. Before I started playing golf, the flattened, boob-tube version seemed so boring. The announcers spoke too quietly, the audiences responded too softly and the action – following the arc of a white ball into what was often a gray or cloudy sky – too lazy.

"Of course you don't like to watch it; you don't play golf," my friends who did watch the sport on TV would say. "If you played, you'd appreciate it more."

He's probably not watching golf.

Except that now I play. And I still don't appreciate golf on television. I've tried watching The Golf Channel but it holds no appeal. All my reasons for disliking the televised version of the game remain the same, with one addition:

I'm more interested in bad golf.

I can watch football, basketball and baseball on television with great interest because I can't -- and don't -- play any of those sports. It's the same reason guys watch action movies. 

Allmoviephotos.com

Doesn't everyone want to be Tom Cruise?

The game's appeal is in its participation, the fact that anyone can get out and attempt to play, no matter how awful. Oh, and most of us are awful. If we weren't then we'd be the ones featured on Sunday afternoon television during the football off-season, sinking putts and hawking Buicks.

I'm not alone in this sentiment, and not even close to one of the originators of this idea. I was surprised to read that A.A. Milne, the creator of Winnie the Pooh, was a terrible golfer. But did he let this get him down? Of course not. The man fought in World War I, for crying out loud. Instead, Milne celebrated the sport because it lets people like him (and me) participate. No other sport, he said, allows you to be quite so awful. He wrote this in his essay, "TheCharm of Golf," in 1919:

"Consider what it is to be bad at lawn tennis. True, you are allowed to hold on to your new racket all through the game, but how often are you allowed to employ it usefully? How often does your partner cry "Mine!" and bundle you out of the way? Is there pleasure in playing football badly? You may spend the full eighty minutes in your new boots, but your relations with the ball will be distant. They do not give you a ball to yourself at football.

"But how different a game is golf. At golf it is the bad player who gets the most strokes. However good his opponent, the bad player has the right to play out each hole to the end; he will get more than his share of the game. He need have no fears that his new driver will not be employed. He will have as many swings with it as the scratch man; more, if he misses the ball altogether upon one or two tees."

Well put. I can hardly believe this is the man who once prompted the great Dorothy Parker to declare in a book review of Milne's "The House at Pooh Corner": 

"Tonstant Weader fwowed up."

She should have seen him play.

What's the appeal of watching golf on television? Inquiring minds want to know.

Almost ready for the big-boy courses

The last time I played a course longer than Village Greens, a public course with 16 par-3s and two par-4 holes, since Sept. 16. That's when I hit a pathetic (even for me) 87 on the front nine at a course in Lancaster County and decided, then and there, I am not fit for the courses where actual golfers play.

What a day for fair-weather golfers.

So since then I've made it my mission to practice at a short course, without the intimidation of par-5 holes, dog-legs and water hazards. Even the par-56 Village Greens is a challenge for a novice like me. To even break into the single digits, I still would have to hit 43 over par.

Hardly the stuff of PGA legends.

Still, I've been able to stay in the 90s pretty regularly, in the last month. In my three rounds since Nov. 1, I've shot no higher than 99.

Which brings me to today's insight. I am trying to not worry about improvement, and just enjoy playing.

In my brief golfing career I have learned not to keep track of my score from hole to hole. Today provided a great lesson why. I began the day with a beautiful, arcing 5-iron shot from the first tee that landed a short pitch from the green. It could have been an easy bogey, assuming I could get on the green in my next shot and two-putt the hole. Instead, my pitch shot went two feet. The third shot past the green, too far to try putting it on from the fringe. So I pitched it again, this time getting it 20 feet from the hole.

That number – 20 feet – comes into play later in this round. Keep an eye out for it.

I couldn't even salvage a two-putt, needing instead to take four putts to sink the ball. I don't have the best putting game, but on the first hole I was unusually bad.

The second hole was almost the same story, but with a slightly better outcome. I hit the 5-iron again from the tees, 120 yards away, and this time overshot the green. This time a decent pitch got me on the green, but far from the hole, and I had to putt four times to sink it. For the first two holes, I was already at 14.

OK, I thought. Guess I'm not breaking 100 today. C'est la vie (French for, "I hate this stupid game").

So close, and yet so frustrating.

You need to play with a certain amount of detachment. The writer and sports psychologist Bob Rotella stresses playing in the moment, so that's what I did. Bad shots, missed putts — none of it mattered. Even on the ninth hole, a 250-yard par-4, I didn't let a dismal second shot undermine my game, and finished it with a double-bogey.

At this point, I was sorely tempted to check my score. I had hit at least two 8s, and three sixes on the front nine, and was still convinced that I wouldn't break 100. If I had looked at my score – 53 – that might have been the case. Instead, I accepted that the first nine holes were disappointing and resolved to play better on hole 10. After all, it's a new start.

My putting didn't improve much – I still three-putted where two would have worked. I keep overshooting the hole and haven't developed the skill to get the ball to decelerate. So on the 12^th hole, when I landed on the green from the tee, I couldn't do any better than a bogey.

The short hole 13 – a 95-yarder – was just as vexing. I hit it with my pitching wedge, assuming I would land short of the green. Somehow I overshot it, and bad putting combined to make it a 5 — the third in four holes so far on the back nine.

On hole 14, I made one of only two remarkable shots this day. It took me two shots to get on the green, where I landed 20 feet (and downhill) from the cup. All I wanted was the ball to get close to the hole for a bogey. But somehow it found the line I was aiming for and went straight in, giving me my only par of the day.

The second remarkable shot came on the 18^th hole. This hole gives me grief every time, because it's a long distance – 303 yards – and uphill. The green sits on a plateau that gets more difficult to reach the closer you get. It's like the land of Mordor from "Lord of the Rings" in that way. When I took my third shot, staring at the summit from about 90 yards away, I decided to skip my irons. I pulled out my 5-wood, hoping it would give me the loft I needed to land somewhere on the hill.

Isn't that why they call them fairway woods, anyway? For just such occasions?

My first shot of the day with the 5-wood was better than I expected. The ball flew straight and high, coming down short of the green and bouncing to a few feet of the cup. Even I could two-putt this. So I did, for my fourth bogey of the day and a final score of 96.

I didn't expect that. Hurrah for Dr. Bob Rotella. His living-in-the-moment philosophy seems to have some merit, even for those of us not on the tour.

We only have a few more weeks of good golf weather ahead of us in the Northeast, if we're lucky. I will try to play a par-70 or bigger course before retiring for the winter. I'll let you know how it goes.

When have you been pleasantly surprised on the golf course? Or anywhere for that matter?

Return of the swing

Bloggers are never supposed to apologize for taking long absences from their blogging duties. So I won't.

(I read that on a blog somewhere.)

I would like to say that the reason for my cyberspace silence these last few weeks is that I've been sequestered in a Himalayan monastery, studying the finer points of golf and getting in touch with my inner chi in order to improve my golf game. Oh, and that I finally broke 100 on a regulation golf course.

Photo credit: Sakhorn38

Mind if I play through?

Sadly, none of that is true. The only upside is that while I haven't been blogging about golf, I have been golfing quite a bit. In the past couple weeks, my experience has taught me some important lessons about this addicting, maddening game.

So here, for the first time, are some bits of Adam's Acquired Golf Wisdom ™ that I picked up from my recent play.

1. Golf is an utterly pointless activity.

No one ever saved the world with a round of golf. Golf can't cure cancer, won't stop global warming, doesn't prevent wars. Detractors call it a good walk spoiled, but you can do more good than simply walking in the time it takes to complete a round of golf.

That said, the sheer insignificance of golf is its charm. On a beautiful day – hell, even on an overcast, rainy day – a round of golf can give some relief from the harsh brutality of the real world.

Photo credit: hinnamsaisuy

Even in golf, it's important to keep things in perspective. 

On Sept. 11, 2001, I was living in Seattle, the other side of the continent from the terrorist attacks. I couldn’t talk to anyone in New York or D.C. I couldn't help. All we on the left coast could do was watch the horror unfold, over and over on television. Many of us couldn't even work; all the tall buildings in downtown Seattle closed out of fear another rogue jetliner would strike.

So my friends Nestor and Scott and I did the only thing we could do: We hit the golf course. And for four hours, we tried (not always successfully) to put the events of 9/11 out of our minds.

And in September of this year, I went to play golf on another bright, sunny day while my friend John was in the hospital, struggling to recover from brain surgery. On the eighth hole at Hawk Valley Golf Club in Denver, Pa., my phone rang. I recognized the number, knowing what the news was, but let it go to voice mail.

On the ninth tee I hit a long, straight shot — my best shot on a day when I had scored 87 through eight holes — but couldn't find it in the middle of the fairway, so I left it there. I had other business to attend.
In the parking lot, as my playing companions moved on to the back nine, I sat in my car and returned the call to John's sister, who let me know he had died the night before.

The only green I hit at Hawk Valley in fewer than 8 shots. 

Once again, I felt helpless on a golf course, standing on the other side of the continent while my friend in California died in a hospital. I had gotten a phone call a week before, letting me know he had emergency surgery. His sister gave me regular updates on his condition. I couldn't visit; all I could do was hope he'd get better. He didn't.

Two days later I played 18 holes with my brother-in-law. Because what else can you do, when you can't do anything?

You can play golf.

I didn't expect to go on this long about such a depressing subject. I'll share more of Adam's Acquired Golf Wisdom™ in my next post, and promise it won't be nearly so goddamn morose.

Rainy Day Golfing #12 & 35

For all my other golfing faults, at least you can't call me a fair-weather golfer. Today, Labor Day, I worked my way through 18 holes at Manor Golf Club in Sinking Spring, Pa., slogging through a soggy front nine before the sun finally showed, ever so briefly, later in the afternoon.

I half-expected to see werewolves out on a day like this.

At first I thought I had a way with rain; the first hole, an uphill par-4, provided my first birdie in more than 10 years. Immediately after that, I fell apart. The second hole a par-3, resulted in a 6 (although, to my surprise, I only two-putted it). After that I had two eights, a 10 and a 9.

The 10 that came on hole five was my best guess; after eight shots of not hitting the green, I gave up that hole. It took me four putts to finish with a 9 on the next hole, but I did manage a bogey on hole 7 before finishing the front nine with a 10 and a 12, respectively. On both holes I estimated my score because getting to the green was as futile to me as building a perpetual-motion machine.

The back nine went much better. I bogeyed the 10th hole and double-bogeyed the 11th. One hole 12 I hit another 10, but at least this was honest: It was a par-5 and I took five shots to make it on the green, followed by five putts. The other par-5 on the back nine was a little bit better. I still scored a 10, but at least I was able to two-putt. Yes, that means I needed eight shots to get on the green.

Give me a break. I'm new at this.

So close! So very close!

The weather cleared up on the back nine, where I finished with a 62 (compared to 71 on the front). Still, I don't blame the rain. Frustration and impatience set in on a number of those first holes.

How can you tell? Note the lack of putting on one-third of the front nine.

Golf is a game best played with an attitude of, "embrace the suck." If you can't be good, you might as well just try your best and have fun. Rain or shine. Luckily I learned that lesson before the day ended.

One of my goals for this year has been to finish a round with double-par or better. I scored a 133 today, seven shots better than the 140 I had hoped for. Next time, I hope to reach the same goal, but this time finishing every hole.

Even if it means something worse than a 12 on the scorecard.

Speaking of scorecards, here's mine from today:

And here's a look at my latest putting stats. They're getting a little bit better.

As is my average scoring, though I'm still far from average:

Keep foozling that niblick!

Don't hate the driver

One of the most oft-used pieces of advice that novice golfers receive is:

Don't Use The Driver.

It's the most difficult club to hit. It will ruin your game. It will run off with your spouse and steal your credit cards.

To be sure, it is tough to hit a driver WELL. But at the par-56 course today, I was struggling with every other aspect so that when I reached the par-4 ninth hole, I decided to try my driver, a Mitsushiba that I'd found in a thrift store many years ago.

The results were, in short, not horrible. I hit the ball far and slightly to the left, but it landed close enough to the green that I was able to reach it in three shots. I finished with a 7, a score I've gotten before on that same hole. It felt good to know it was my lousy putting that cost me, rather than horrible shots to the green.

It all went downhill after the first hole.

By hole nine, I had already resigned myself to a day of terrible putting. After one-putting on the first hole for a bogey, I played terribly on the green the rest of the day. Forget about three-putts: I had to four-putt some holes (including an otherwise satisfactory ninth) and on one ignominious occasion, a five-putt.

My putts alone were one-under on the front nine. Oy.

So I spent the back nine figuring out how to putt. It may have made a difference; I made 27 putts on the front nine and 26 on the back.

But back to the driver; At Village Greens in Sinking Spring, Pa., only two holes -- nine and 18 -- are long enough to warrant anything but an iron from the tee. After my relative success on hole nine, I tried Mitsushiba on the last hole. Once again it went left, but had good distance. A line of trees to the left of the fairway kept my ball from going into the street. Hey, I'll take any help I can get. From there I needed three more shots to get on the green. It sounds like a lot, but I was pretty pleased with the last shot, one I took with my lob wedge that got me slightly uphill of the hole.

I finished the hole with a 7, three-putting to finish. On this kind of day, three-putts don't bother me. As much.

Finished with a 106. My scores keep going up,
not down.

The goal of cutting down on three-putts eluded me to day. I probably don't need to point out that my goal of breaking 100 at Village Greens was just as unreachable.

I suspect the two are related.

Here are more stats from today's game:

The day I retired my woods -- for now

I have started a Golfing Noob Tumblr account, where I chronicled last week's outing at Rich Maiden, a lovely 18-hole course near Fleetwood, Pa.

The biggest discovery I made was that I hit my 3-iron off the tee better than my driver or even my 3-wood. So for the entire back nine, I kept all my woods in the bag (with one exception: Once I used the 5-wood on the fairway). The result was better, but it still highlighted my woeful short game an lack of putting skills.

I ended the day with a 152 -- better than my all-time high of 156, but still a terrible score.

The round helped me clarify some of my goals for the remainder of this year:

• Shoot double-par or better on a par-70 course;
• Break 100 at Village Greens, which has a par of 56;
• Cut my three-putts in half. 

That third goal is inextricably linked to the first two. They say beginning golfers should practice putting more than driving. Oh brother is that true.

Here's a look at Thursday's game, by the numbers:

The latest environmental danger: terrible golfers

Great day for golf.

The intent seems noble enough: create a wildlife sanctuary in a public golf course. I don't know how much the animals enjoy the constant threat of errant golf balls flying into their habitat.

In this weekend's round, I mercifully missed their homes as often as I missed the greens. No animals were harmed during my game at Colonial Acres; only my golf score.

Colonial Acres is a public, nine-hole golf course in a suburban development outside Albany, N.Y. It's also an Audubon Cooperative Sanctuary, meaning if you hit your ball into some of the wildlife-inhabiting hazards along the course, you're not allowed to go looking for it, lest you disturb the habitat of the fauna within. The course has wide, forgiving fairways combined with vicious greens that make the course much tougher than it appears. Thankfully, none of the protected animals actually served as hazards.

I was in town for a family reunion. It turns out that the only three people in my extended family interested in golf are my brother-in-law, my father (whose "interest" level is somewhere below the Fed's prime rate) and me. And we all live within 15 minutes of one another.

I started strong on the first hole with a bogey. The tee was less than 90 yards from the flag and I overshot it with my 7-iron. Two more shots got me on the green, and a nice, long putt – the best putt of the day, and probably of my life – gave me a 4 for the hole.

My brother-in-law got a 5; it is probably the last time I will start the next hole before him.

After that it was a series of topped shots, slices, overshot greens and general mayhem. I didn't score the dreaded 10 (or 3 in binary) but on two of the nine holes I got a 9. Only three other times did I even triple-bogey. Twice I hit my tee shot on to a different fairway.

On hole six, I ruined an otherwise good tee shot by playing the wrong ball. My first shot went straight-ish, landing in front of some trees to the left of the fairway. I looked everywhere for it, finally spotting a white ball about 50 yards or so from the tee. It took me five more shots, including one from a bunker, to get onto the green, where I (at least) was able to two-putt for a 9. But somewhere between shots four through eight I noticed a little swoosh on the side of my ball; I'd hit someone else's Nike after my tee shot.

Oh well, I thought. The Wilson Titanium ball I started with must have been lost to oblivion. Maybe one of the animals on the course appropriated it.

The next hole went in the opposite direction. I hit my tee shot wildly to the left, onto the fairway of the aforementioned hole (Why couldn't I have done that earlier?). As I approached my ball, I found Wilson , not 30 yards from the last green, just six inches off the fairway.

No wonder I couldn't find it before. I hit it too well.

A trip to the par-3 Village Greens course seems in order this week. I need to work on improving my short game and my putting as evidenced by some horrid three-putts I can't blame on Colonial Acres' cruel, cruel greens.

On a plus side, I didn't lose any balls to the wilderness or the water hazard on hole 9. And I came home with a Nike.

Here's the brutal truth about Saturday's game, also known as my scorecard:

Colonial Acres was also the first time I tried scoring with the free Golfshot app on my iPhone. I'll post those stats here periodically, too.

That one bogie looks awful small in the pie.