yes, mugging for some self-shots. We actually managed to find some relatively nice weather not too far from home over the long weekend. From what we hear, it was much better than anything around here. One of our favorite, and close, places to go is Mesquite, Nevada. Unlike many who visit there, we don't go there to gamble. Didn't even drop a quarter on the pavement.
We go for the golf. Mesquite seems to be turning into a golf vacation destination, with several high quality courses in the area. One of our favorites is Falcon Ridge. The golf is good, the food is good, and the people are way nice. And it didn't even cost an arm or a leg, being barely out of their high season.
Every time we play this course, I spend the first 16 holes trying to make sure that I have something left for the 17th and 18th holes, mentally and physically. The 17th is a par 3 hole that is all sand and green. Needless to say, you are trying for green, and not sand.
This picture doesn't show it very well, but the hole is quite protected from the wind by the houses that are along all sides of the hole. If you ever wanted to know what it feels like to play golf with an audience watching, you need to go there. Anyway, the hole is listed for the men at 170 yards on the scorecard, and on the GPS systems installed in the carts. However, you stand up there, and you would SWEAR it is only 140, at the longest. So there's a mental strain there, wondering how to hit the shot.
For me, I hit a wedge 133, a 9 iron about 145, an 8 iron 155, and a 7 iron 165. This shouldn't be an issue. But remember that I said the hole is quite protected. That's the case until the ball travels above the houses, and hits the wind you never knew was there, but seems to be there every damn time we are there. When we played on Saturday, I chose an 8 iron, thinking there was no way it was playing as long as the yardage said it was. And I hit it into the sand, leaving me a 25 yard sand shot to get up and down. Didn't happen. As we drove away from the green, I was muttering under my breath, and ThatOneWife asked about it - I said, next time we get to that hole, remind me that it's a 7 iron, please. Though I likely left off the "please" part.
So on Sunday, I get to the hole, after birdieing the par 5 16th, and she says to me, remember, this is a 7 iron. I grumbled that I KNEW that, thanks. She chuckles, and I pull out my 7 iron and tee it down so I can pinch it on the turf as it goes away, thinking that I will need some spin to stop the ball, BECAUSE I AM USING TO MUCH CLUB, AND I'M GOING OVER THE GREEN.
So, obviously, my mental game is all jumbled, and I hit the ball off the toe a bit, leaving it online, but short. Like in the sand short. Fun.
Next time I go there, I'm pulling out my 189 yard hybrid, teeing it up, and bouncing it off the back of the house at the back of the green. I can make a par that way, I know it.
Sorry this post isn't for everybody - I know several who are preplexed by the game of golf, and those who play it. On another note, I have the next subject in the occasional series called On My Hard Drive picked out, and some other banality in mind for the next couple of days, along with a special post coming up. So stick around.
2 comments:
Okay, you're right I don't get the golf part, but not unlike when you and the little brother and your beloved went out in Park City, I am amazed at the scenery and quite frankly the mental part of the game. Physical I see, but it truly is a game of thought and process. That being said, I will drive the beer cart. And for the record, I like my Steam Iron for hitting just about anything in or out of the sand.
Hope you guys are well. Let's try and connect this weekend.
Stupid golf. The mental part is always the hardest. OneHung hates number 5 at his course. He KNOWS the ball breaks towards the highway, but his eyes tell him otherwise. He always listens to his eyes and cusses all the way to the 6th tee box.
Has the hat made you a better player yet?
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