Date: Tue, 20 Sep 2005 00:53:59 -0400 (EDT) From: annika1980@aol.com Subject: [RSG-OHIO] ANNI GOES BACK TO OHIO Here's a few things I remember about the weekend. =========================== Friday: Got up at 4:30 AM and headed out early for the 500 mile drive. I figured that would give me plenty of time to make the 2:00 PM tee time, even with possible traffic delays. As it turned out, I made great time and there was only 1 brief delay in Northern Kentucky. I would've gotten there sooner, but the KY State Trooper wrote real slowly. He said I was doing 86 and I was like, "So?" The good news is that he only wrote me up for 10-over the limit, which is the minimum amount. It would be the only time I was 10-over all weekend. When I called today to ask the amount of the fine, the lady at the Court said it would cost me $155.50. Gulp! I asked, "WTF?" and she said the fine is only $20 and the court cost is $135.50. I said, "Ya'll must have one Helluva Courthouse, lady!" Now I know why they call it KY Jelly. As it turned out, I could've flown cheaper. I hate cops! Anyway, I got to the course a few hours early figuring it would be a good chance to work on my putting. When I saw all the aerification holes in the practice green I wished I'd slept in a few more hours. Thor and I played Tex and Dave Sneddon in our Beer Match Re-Match. I hit a few good shots and a lot of terrible ones, but my partner kept us in it. The match see-sawed back and forth .... they would go 1-up and we'd tie the match. Then they'd win another hole and we'd tie them up again. Then after a long stretch of 10 halved holes, and a brief rain delay while a big storm blew through, we came to the 17th 1-down. I flubbed a wedge approach on the par-5, but my partner had about a 10-foot downhill putt for a birdie. Going for the chip-in, I chipped too aggressively and ended up about 20 feet past the hole on the same line as Thor. He about shit himself when I walked over and picked up my ball without putting. I told him that I had complete faith in him to make the needed birdie. (I also figured that as poorly as I was putting, watching my putt miss would only confuse him.) Thor sacked up and made his best stroke of the day, and the match was All Square. We parred the final hole to win 1-up, the only time we led through the entire match. After my final putt dropped, I told Tex, "Make mine a Diet Coke." The look on his face was priceless, like he had just learned that Hillary Clinton had been elected President. Sweet. I can't figure out David Sneddon. I keep hearing crap about his poor putting, but I've never witnessed it. He putts like Bobby-friggin-Locke when he plays against me. After he drove the green on the 311 yard 14th hole I told him, "Dave, if you couldn't hit it 300+ yards, chip like Seve and putt like Crenshaw, you wouldn't be worth a sh*t!" Tex added, "He's a good egg." I thought about it a moment and said, "Yeah, but even a good egg can be cracked." We all met for dinner that night at a pizza joint. I got to show off the Coveted Peach Jacket that I won at RSG-ATLANTA 2001. As defending RSG-OHIO Champion (for at least one more day) Neal Bell wore his Maroon Jacket. Someone (OK, it was the drunken Texan) commented that the Coveted Peach Jacket was ugly in comparison. I looked at Neal and said, "That may be, but tomorrow night I'll still be wearing my jacket." The Smack Talk had begun. I talked a bit with Mike Dalecki at dinner and cried on his shoulder about my putting woes. He mentioned something in passing about the position of the eyes over the ball. I didn't think much about it until I got back to the Motel 6 and got out my Dave Pelz putting track. I was clanking that thing pretty hard until I remembered what Mike had said and then I noticed that my eyes were a few inches inside the ball at address. When I moved my eyes over the ball the putter was now soled properly and there was no more clanging of the rails during the stroke. The whole thing only took about two minutes to figure out. I smiled, knowing that I'd be sinking some putts the next two days. I slept well that night after saying a few prayers for my opponents the next day. Figured they could use the help since I knew I would play well the rest of the weekend. ========================== Saturday: I was paired with John Griffin, George Buechely, and "Mr. JFB" on Saturday morning for the official tournament round. I played really well, hardly missing a shot for the first few hours. The course was still a bit damp from the previous day's rain so it played long, especially the 600 yard hole and the 432 par-4 4th hole. I shot 37 on the front and was still only 1-over through 12 holes. Then the course got pissed off, and I limped in with a 80. I thought it was just me struggling until I learned that everyone had trouble with that back-9. It was a real bear. As it turned out, I think only 3 players broke 90 for the 18 holes. I won the prestigious title of "Premier Golfer of The Year" and a trophy that I can't pronounce. Oh yeah, and a coffee mug, made by Thor's son. Cool. Had I played the last 6 holes like I did the first 12, I would've won the Maroon Jacket for Low Net as well. They would've never lived that down! The Low Net winner was announced as Mark Georg. Mark came forward and defending champ, Neal Bell, helped him into the champion's Maroon Jacket. Mark was all smiles, until he realized that an error had been made and Super Dave Osborne was crowned RSG-OHIO Champion. It was a classic case of Premature Jacket Elation. The afternoon features the world famous "Match Play Madness." The rules of MPM are simple: Play The Ball As It Lies. You can't lift it, clean it, or even smell it until you knock it into the hole. And don't even think about moving any leaves around your ball or on your line or else you'll lose the hole. As it turned out, I did exactly that on one hole ..... I moved a leaf without even thinking about it. It wasn't even that close to my ball, just one of those housecleaning things that golfers do subconciously. I thought it was kinda funny when I realized what I'd done. "A rookie mistake," as Tex called it. My opponent in Match Play Madness was Mike Plowinski, aka "Sir Plow." A nicer guy or a better dresser you'll never meet. We were quite a contrast in that respect. I was feeling especially confident (ok, "cocky") before the match. Perhaps it was the elation of winning the PGOTY in the morning round or maybe just a little too much Diet Coke the night before (Diet Pepsi, actually ... I miss the South!). Also, since there was only one rule that meant I could bring out the world famous Clanger as well as my trusty laser rangefinder, Peg. Just the shock of hearing the Clanger will rattle most golfers so I knew that Sir Plow was about to get plowed. I got a little too cocky as we waited on the first tee. I asked Sir Plow if he'd ever played the 8th hole, which has been pivotal in many MPM matches in the past. He said, "Sure!" I said, "Good, cause you ain't playin it today." To his credit, Mike took my smack talk with a good nature and we had a fun match. We were paired with the Tex/Sneddon match, and I literally didn't miss a shot for the first 4-5 holes. I was bombing the Clanger way out there and hitting my irons close. IOW, I was playing out my arse. Mike had a couple of bad breaks and was 3-down after 4 holes. In a 9-hole match there is very little time to recover. If you get 2 or 3 down, you're toast. To his credit, Mike didn't quit and made a liar out of me when the match reached the 8th hole. There was some commotion down near the green as we reached the 8th tee. I thought it was a stork or a blue heron stuck on the bank of the pond, but it was just John Griffin splashing around. Mike and I both parred that hole so I won the match 2&1. After the golf, everyone convened for dinner. We were pressed for time so about half of us went there straight from the course. We comprised the "gamey table" while the cleaned up golfers arrived later. Many steaks were eaten, much beer was consumed, and many lies were told. Tennessee was getting it's butt kicked on the big screen. Stemmer was hitting on the only chick in the joint, while her boyfriend sat next to her (or maybe he was hitting on the boyfriend?). Dalecki and I discussed golf swing and equipment theories. The Canadians smoked lots of cigs. Thor smiled a lot. In other words, it was your typical RSG dinner. ================================ Sunday: The final round of the weekend was played at Darby Creek Golf Course. It is located almost exactly in the middle of ...... nowhere. My kind of track ... rolling fairways, good greens, and no houses surrounding the course. Just lots of corn, cows, and lots of birds. My kind of Heaven. As we all gathered on the first tee, Mark Georg arrived late for his tee time. I think he had to wait for a bunch of Amish to cross the road or something. I was paired with two great guys, John Pflum and Steve Stemmer. With the great company and the awesome layout of the course, I knew I'd play well again. I smelled fear on the first tee, and told em I'd play their best ball. Stemmer was fighting his swing and was a shell of his normal mediocre self. The Pfluminator showed off a bit by hitting a deft chip with a 4-wood from just off the green, ala Tiger. I was impressed. I hit the ball as well as I ever have during that round. I stuffed a Rescue 5-iron close on #3 for a birdie 2, and followed that with another bird on #4. A missed 4-footer on #8 left me 1-under at the turn. On the par-3 11th hole I hit a 6-iron that never left the pin. I lipped in the 2-incher to go 2-under. 6-up. I snipe-hooked my next drive deep into the gunch on the next hole. After gouging it out into the rough, I stupidly tried to hit a 5-iron over the water to the pin. Bad play. Now I had to bear down just to play the hole in single digits. I had my trusty rangefinder with me of course (I was still playing MPM rules), so I paced back to the 60 yard mark before I dropped. I knocked it a foot and tapped in for a double-bogey. So much for being under par. I parred the next 5 to reach the final hole still even par (and win my match 6&5). Hole #18 is a real monster .... 432 par-4 from the up tees! Water guards the green and I had 189 to the flag after banging the Clanger one last time. I had hit a nice layup with my Rescue 3-iron on the previous hole so I had some confidence as I set up for the difficult approach over the water. I took dead aim with my Rescue 3 and made my best swing of the year. The ball never left the flag and finished about 4 feet below the cup. Even the RSGers behind the green were impressed enough to give me some applause for that one. I shouted back, "Any Questions?" The sun was out now and there were white puffy clouds against the dark blue sky. I savored the moment, looking around and wondering if it would ever get this good again. Then I made the putt for the 71. It would take lots more than the 500 miles of blacktop to wipe the smile off my face as I drove home.