Bob Sheppard, the eloquent public address announcer of the NY Yankees and Giants, passed away yesterday at the age of 99. His pristine and mannerly voice called the names of Ruth and Jeter, Tittle and Taylor, and all those in between. What a unique and wonderful style he possessed.
Golf has been a lifetime of maddening frustration for me. Always more than proficient at any sport I tried, I excelled because of effort. Basically, I had a decent level of size and talent but tried as hard or harder than my competition. But in golf, the harder I tried the worse I did.
Interestingly, I have spent some time on the range and putting green in recent years and have found a few swing keys that work for me. I've gone from atrocious to mediocre to an acceptable level in the game. My handicap is 10, which is ok by golf standards but still far below many of my friends who have a real talent and are scratch or better.
Yesterday, during my normal weekend game, I found my rhythm. My tee shots were long and in the fairway, and my irons were crisp and on the green 16 out of 18 holes. I had four birdies that were offset only by a three putt and two poor chip shots.
I shot a 69 yesterday on the par 70 course at Burlington Country Club where I am a member. My playing partners Harold Morgan and Kevin Harper were incredibly encouraging as I attempted to achieve a hackers dream of breaking par. The three foot downhill slider I made on the 18th hole did not get me a green jacket, but it did make a few of my opponents green with envy.
You see, for one glorious afternoon, I conquered the game.....and myself.
