Category: Columnists

Ode to Golf

Ode to Golf
by A Chip in Rhyme

As you, my loyal readers know, April is poetry month.  Before I hear a collective groan emanating from the grill, I too believe anyone who writes more than one poem in a calendar year should be drawn and quartered.  So here is Chip’s bucket list in verse.

Scottish links looming in the mist,
follow me on my mystic golf bucket list.

What a thrill to be freezing and hitting out of the gorse,
this journey must begin with The Old Course.  
Golf’s home and all that is grand,
pass me the whiskey before the bagpipes lead the band.

Dogwoods, azaleas, and birds singing in the spring,
those cute patrons with the southern drawl really give me a zing.
The site of Jordan Speith’s 12th hole disasters,
what could be finer than playing in the Masters.

Monterey’s natural scenery has so much class,
it’s almost as memorable as a round at Spyglass.
The former home of the NCGA and its ice plant,
we all try to play out of it, but we just can’t.

Up the road to the Tap Room at Pebble Beach,
its green fees astronomical, barely in reach.
It will cost you and arm and a leg for a beer,
its views and vistas have nothing to compare.

Half Moon Bay and it’s breezy gusts,
two courses seaside, a must.

Closer to god’s country, are Harding and Sharp Park,
keep the environmentalists out or the place will go dark.
Frogs, snakes and birds with red beaks,
if it wasn’t for these courses, these animals would be up S#@% creek.

The Ocean and The Lake,
two better courses man has yet to make.
Olympic dogs, clam chowder and the sound of gunfire,
four US Opens, a venue that never tires.

For just a bit of planning and a hit to your credit card,
enjoy golf’s greatest hits, most of which are in your backyard.

The Year Without Golf!

The Year Without Golf!
by Chip with a Splash

After a week of sunny weather, the rains have returned.  As an admitted golf junkie, this is my lament, rain.  Some pundits make the claim golf played in the rain is a truer test of the game. Scottish, argyle, bagpipes and all of that purist hogwash.  I firmly believe the only things enhanced by water are Scotch and very specific co-ed hot tub games.  Anything else becomes time-consuming and burdensome.

And so it goes.  Personally, this liquid sunshine has altered my sleep patterns, sunscreen usage, and general cheeriness.  My nights have become like the neglected bread knife in a gluten-free home, cold, dull and way too long.  Gone are the dreams of bogies, birdies, cute cart girls and beer.  They have been replaced with nightmares of the movies “Poseidon Adventure” and “Titanic” on an endless loop.  The mention of Ernest Borgnine, Leo DiCapra or Shelly Winters gives me the cold sweats.  Surprisingly, the thought of Kate Winslet does not.  Funny how dreams work.

I need sun.  I have spent so much time walking the aisles of the Golf Mart, the employees think I am on staff.  I have even thought of building a golf-themed ark.  Keith Gonsalves, another sufferer, helped me draw up the plans on a canceled tournament score sheet. It’s kinda of a cool ship with multiple driving mats and three bars.  There is no room however, for animals other than PCGC members, but sacrifices had to be made.

I’m on the verge of a golf breakdown.  I long for the days of taking a good round into our eighteenth hole only to blow up.  Double bogies are starting to sound good to me.  Hitting three from the tee doesn’t sound all that bad anymore.  I just might have to don my rain gear and get Scottish.

Getting Out Of Jail

Getting Out Of Jail
By Monopoly Chip

Rain, rain go away.  These constant showers have forced golfers throughout the state to come up with new and previously unheard excuses to get out of the house.  As is our customs in matters such as these, we at Poplar Creek Golf Club are the leaders in misleading spouses.  President Mike Love confirmed these allegations and added that some members find this exercise much more fulfilling than golf.

On a particularly horrible Saturday afternoon with rain deluging in biblical proportions, I was able to poll more than forty members sitting around the grill discussing their craft.  Our members were more than happy to help those in need in this noble pursuit.  The ever-candid Bill Feeley loads shovels into his truck and says he is going to the course to load sandbags to save the bunkers. After receiving a prearranged phone call from me, my attorney Blue Moon Retainer, hangs up, mumbles obscure Latin phrases and declares he is needed immediately at the golf course.  
         
Artie White, known for his birdies, worries about the course's water fowl and feels compelled to check on them.  Randy G has been known to check the born on dates of the Corona bottles to make sure they are fresh.  And so it goes.

"The creativity of this bunch is incredible, my only concern, said tournament director Mike Bradley, will they be able to play when the rains stop?”  Until then, enjoy the grill and the large number of members who somehow got out of jail. 

Cabin Fever

Cabin Fever
by Indoor Chip

I have spent my weekends in golf limbo since the rains began in earnest in November. Cloistered on my usual corner stool, I have been locked on to The Weather Channel.  Yes, you read that correctly, The Weather Channel.  I am in search of a favorable Doplar reading of enough blue skies to get nine holes in with out the aid of flotation devices.
My ever ready commiserate, Bill Feeley, produced a very nice inflatable ring with a duck head on it.  “Hey Chip, he said. if you can’t beat them, join them."  

I let this comment pass, as I so often do, and sequestered deeper into my golf gloom watching a dark red section fill the screen.  My spirits dipped lower as I looked out over the course and the 17 new lakes that seemed to have instantly appeared.  Then it hit me, Bill as misguided as he sometimes is, was right.  You read that correctly too.  Join them was the key.

With the help of some evil golf geniuses, like Keith Gonsalves and SteveO Desantis, we could rig carts to travel through our fairway lakes. Imagine airboat carts like the ones they use in the swamps of Florida and Colma floating over our fairways.  We could fix others with sails and outriggers to utilize our ever present twenty miles an hour winds. We might even earn some kind of “Going Green” award from the state.

“I could see the city using these crafts in the summer months on the lakes of 2, 11, and 18 as rentals, said SteveO.  This new revenue stream might lead to course improvements, cheaper beer prices and global peace.”  Suddenly these rains weren't an advisory, but a soggy friend.  My cabin fever wasn’t quite so severe.  Billy, I said, grab your umbrella. We got a $5-$5-$10 with Bryan and the Big Cat.