How To Lose 40 Bucks Before Lunch

Sometimes you just don’t have it.

Maybe you’ve been away and too busy to work on your game. Maybe you’ve been working on your game too much and have managed to ruin all the good things about your swing, which happens far more often than it should.

You wake up early, dress to impress, drink coffee early, and wait for the only time during the week you’ve been looking forward to. The local "Muni" awaits, almost like a date with a girlfriend. What’s going to happen? Is this going to work? Will she treat me right? Well, more often than not, you’ll be dumped before the turn and sent packing, wondering why the hell you wanted to see her in the first place.

The first hole appears, and you haven’t warmed up because, in your excitement to get there, you were barely able to get there on time. You feel rushed, too excited from all the caffeine and daydreaming of golfing glory. Standing on the first tee, you tell yourself you’re only hitting one ball. The ball heads slightly into the rough. You made it for now. The pain comes later.

After the opening introductions, the real meat and potatoes of the round reveal itself. You have delusions of grandeur. You have techniques you’ve been working on. They don’t work. In the words of the immortal Fat Perez, you dance with the girl you brought. There’s no need to look around and find another.

The swing you came in with is the one you’ll be begging to cooperate all morning.

You start slicing the ball, so you aim left. Then you start hooking the ball to compensate for the change in footing. Eventually, you just hope it stays on the planet. Your dreams of birdies and even pars evaporate. You shouldn’t expect much. It’s not like you’re a professional out there. But thousands of hours of YouTube videos and televised PGA events have given you the dream.

The dream of being able to go out there, play moderately well, not embarrass yourself, and pretend you do that all the time.

By the 16th hole, you’re barely hanging on. The stat calculation stopped five holes ago. You’ve actually closed your Scorecard app because who the hell would want to remember this round anyway?

At this point, you officially decide that the rest of the round is going to be practice, for some imaginary tournament you’ve been playing in your head. Amen Corner on a  Masters Sunday. The 17th at TPC Sawgrass for the player championship. Whatever it takes. You start playing better because you’re loose. You think less about the score and just enjoy the weather, the company, and the ability to have a day off.

You finish on 18 by draining a 30-footer for par. Your partners look at you with disbelief. You haven’t made a four-footer all day, but somehow you’ve just made the best putt of the day.

He says with a smile, “Now you have to come back.”

Your brain is telling you not to, but your ego and delusion will drag you back out next Monday. Mondays are for glory or pain, depending on the weather. But to find out which one it’s going to be, all you need is a free morning, a few friends, and 40 bucks.