Shafted

Episode 31

When Archie’s obituary is written it will state that he loved his family and was the best Gramps in the world. That he enjoyed watching the Atlanta Braves and the Georgia Bulldogs “Go Dawgs!”. That he and his wife had been best friends for fifty-two years. And that his membership in several fine golf clubs was a testament to his passion and enjoyment of the game. The last part would be a lie, Archie is a troubled golfer.

To see Archie on the range you would think he was a real player. The clothes fit just right with the hat, belt and shoes a perfect match. His golf bag was spotless and carried the most current model of the best-selling clubs. His pro-level swing tracking device was ever present continuously capturing ball speed, spin data and launch angles so Archie, along with his swing coach, could analyze the info to further refine his swing.

Before each round it was a given that Archie would pull out a new golf glove and empty two sleeves of golf balls into his bag. After the round the glove would be tossed and any balls that had been used during the round would be added to the large five-gallon bucket he kept in his garage for his grandkids to use.

On the first hole, Archie tee’s his ball and goes through his pre-shot routine. He is not a slow player, just methodical. He takes his stance, gives his driver a few waggles and takes a nice smooth swing. The ball is struck well with a beautiful ball flight. Landing in the middle of the fairway and leaving Archie a perfect approach shot to the first green.

When Archie gets to his ball, he uses his state-of-the-art range finder to zero in on the exact distance to the front of the green, the pin and the back of the green. Selecting a seven-iron, Archie repeats his pre-shot routine and makes a nice pass on the ball. As it travels toward the pin it’s obvious, he has hit a nice shot. The ball lands softly and checks up fourteen feet short of the hole.

Archie has a putting routine as well. He marks his ball and cleans it as he walks around the green checking out the slope and breaks from various angles. Once he has the image in his head, he places his ball and uses the marked line on his ball as an aiming tool for the putt. Satisfied, he takes his stance over the putt. That’s when it begins. He knows sweat is beading on his forehead and he feels his heartbeat in the ends of his fingers. His hands begin to tremble as he forces himself to take the putter back to begin his stroke. He strikes the ball and it comes off the putter face dead right, leaving him a five-foot putt for par. The entire sequence starts over but this time the putter stroke is weak and he leaves his putt short. Mercifully his playing partners give him the two-footer for a bogey.

Archie is muttering as he walks back to the cart. All of the practice, the lessons, the sports psychologists and he still can’t get over the dreaded yips. He has changed putters and putting techniques multiple times but to no avail. And once it happens, it will steadily move through his entire bag.

The next hole is a repeat of the first, two nice shots followed by unwatchable putting. By the fifth hole Archie is reaching for the small half-pint he keeps tucked away. Sometimes it helps but most times it doesn’t. He wonders why he plays this crazy game and if it is somehow shortening his life expectancy. For the next few holes, he plays okay. He attributes it to a combination of the booze and thinking about things other than getting a little white ball in a 4.25-inch-wide hole.

But the ninth hole he finds himself twenty feet off the green with a delicate chip shot. His nerves are frayed and his entire body spasms as he makes contact. The ball rockets across the green, leaving him putting from further away than his last shot. The putt is woefully short, as is his next and the one after that. He finally makes his fourth putt and, clearly defeated, trudges off the green to retrieve his wedge.

As Archie walks back to the cart he can’t take any more. He throws his towel at the cart; the putter follows and then he gives the wedge a toss for good measure. The wedge turns end over end as it flies over the top of the cart. It hits the frame of the roof mid-shaft, it snaps and the head of the club and the attached jagged shaft boomerangs back at Archie. He ducks but the shaft catches him in the neck and slices his carotid artery. He bleeds out quickly but has enough time to think how much he will miss his family but at least he never has to miss another 2-foot putt.