/ Sports / Golf /
I’d talk skiing with the guy who owned the jewelry store in Long Beach. He talked golf. We’d ski together, he was all awe. When I took up golf he said I was such a great athlete I’d probably break — some number — my first time on the course. The numbers meant nothing to me: did he way I’d break 100? 90? I blabbed his praise to some girl who was flirting with me: Pro Leo was grooming her to be the woman pro. I said Darryl said I’d probably break 80, 70 … and she wouldn’t talk to me anymore! I didn’t know what I was saying.
Anyway the first time I played on the Lido Beach actual course, under instruction from Darryl to build a handicap so I could compete in the tournaments, Leo warned me not to report anything much over 106 telling me to cheat I guess, I recorded a 103: not too inaccurate: I might have hit one out of bounds and not penalized myself: in other words my 103 may have been a 105. But within a week or so I was recording 101, 100, 99, and meaning it.
I thought I’d keep going, but I didn’t: it leveled off around 93. I’d try hard, do well, then flub some other hole: 93, 94; never 92.
Till one day I played not at Lido but at the course my mother had moved onto in Maryland. The fairways were narrow but short, an old man’s course: amateur retirees. I shot an 80!!! 36, 44, something like that. 1 birdie, 1 bogey.
Oh, man, wait till I show the guys back at Lido!
But once home, 93! straight back to 93.
One time I did shoot even par, but on an executive par 3 course in Daytona Beach: 1 birdie 1 bogey. Oh, and some cute college girls to show off for.