If I could putt, I don’t think I’d have anything to worry about.
I’m getting fairly consistent at hitting my drives a decent distance and keeping them in the middle of the fairway, and my approach shots from off the green are getting better and better.
If only I could putt. The other day I wrote about the shot on the 17th hole that felt almost perfect. In the two times I have played since then, I have had similar results on that same hole, putting shots first within 15 feet and then within six feet. My putting was bad both times, a three-putt for bogey and then a two-putt for par.
Yesterday I missed at least five putts from six feet or less, and if I had made the last one — on the 18th green — I would have broken 80.
It’s a very strange feeling. I’m hitting good shots more consistently than I ever have in my life, and even though I take a few shots over since I play alone, I would probably still be good enough here to get a 12 or 13 handicap.That’s not bad at all for somebody who used to have a really tough time breaking 90.
In fact, when I first started playing full-length courses about 18 years ago, breaking 130 was a big deal for me.
I miss my friends, though. Playing with Chuck and Mickey for more than 15 years meant that a day on the golf course was about more than just golf. As I’ve written before, we were lucky to be able to play twice a month, which made it tough to improve. Playing two or three times a week has shown me the difference.
Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll play with them again.