Ocean City Blues

It's funny how many of us just never learn.  We played Ocean Pines Golf and Country Club near Ocean City, Maryland.  It's a Robert Trent Jones design, and, considering it's the middle of December, was a bit wet, but otherwise in very nice shape.

As usual, being one who can't seem to follow my own advice, I started playing using several different swings and putting styles on the front nine before I settled in to just hitting the damned ball at the target.  

For some reason, the course either seemed to play longer than its yardage, or I was just hitting it shorter.  Either way, many of my approach shots finished short, and I was forced to do lots of scrambling for pars that often ended up being bogeys.  Momma said there would be days like this.

In the end, it was a nice day with my son on a very nice course.  And, on the last hole, I actually played some golf.  After pushing my tee shot into the right trees, I punched a six iron out low towards the green.  It came to rest short and left of the green, leaving me short-sided to a front pin.  I grabbed my 60 degree wedge and headed for the ball announcing to Matt that I wouldn't be needing my putter because I intended to knock it in.  

Sure enough, I hit a nice little chip that hit the flag dead centre and ended up a few inches from the hole.  Matt just shook his head and said, "Thank goodness that ball didn't go in.  There'd have been no living with you."

I said, "Remember that article I wrote about call shots? That, my boy, was what you call a call shot."