Golf Fore the Good

Those of you who have followed this blog for a while might be aware that I have a bit of a “golf thing” with my brother - a continuous blood match, played out several times each year. I’ve been almost too busy to sharpen up my competitive edge, but not too busy to shoot a few emails back in forth in preparation for our upcoming match. The exchange read something like this:

Dearest brother: I am so looking forward to taking back all the money you stole from me last spring during Master’s week. At least this time I am not picking up my clubs stone cold after a four month winter layoff while you lolly-gagged about in the southern sunshine practicing your game. By the way, we’ll be playing my home course. Bring cash.

Dear sister: I hope you find some time to practice. Retirement is agreeing with my game and I’m playing to a single digit. But since you’ll insist on playing from those forward tees, let’s play even.

My dear brother: Even? Do you think I’m that stupid? Let’s discuss the official USGA handicap system (oh, I forgot, you don’t consider golf a real game). Let’s forget those five strokes you should give me. I have a wonderful idea instead. My friend the pro - oops, I mean my friend - has agreed to take you back to the gold tees at the Pines - it’s nice because that way you’ll get to see the whole course - since you’re my big, strong brother, this shouldn’t be a problem. It’s only 7000 yards and just wait until you see how pretty it looks from the back of those narrow shoots to the fairways… I’ll catch a glimpse of you now and then as you wander by my tees… or not, as you might be taking a short cut to another fairway.

Little sister: 7000 yards with you at those pink tees? 7000 yards is out of the question.

Bro: baaaaark, baaaaark, baaaaark.. that’s the sound of a chicken, if you can’t tell. So I guess we can discuss those strokes now?

Sis: How’s that 8th hole? If I remember correctly, you already get a stroke on that girly par 5 while I have to play it as a par 4 from 100 yards farther away. There’s one stroke you can kiss goodbye.

Hey, you: I didn’t design the golf course. And it’s only 60 yards shorter. Either the mosquitoes are huge after all that rain in June or I’m just hearing some other huge whining noise in my ear. Five strokes.

Brat: Well, I can see that my baby sister can still cry to get what she wants! How about this: 4 strokes, less one a side for home course advantage, leaving us at 1 a side. You’ll get two and you’ll like it (I’m way too easy).

My dear mathematically challenged brother: Middle children sure can tend to bully their younger siblings. You should really see someone about that. Must I remind you again about that USGA handicap formula? They pretty much have that supposed home course advantage thing figure out - not to mention that Dennis Pines is the toughest rated course for women in all of Massachusetts and possibly all of New England. Also, lets note I do not live a life of leisure like you – a retired southern sissy boy with silky soft hands. I still have my nose to the grindstone in the office, day after harrowing day… Do the math: I am due FIVE strokes. Suck it up and give me my strokes. Waaaaaah (crying and stomping of feet)!

You whiny baby: Checking your scores tells me you must have a remote office on the fairways. I, however, have to clean the litter box, scoop the pool, do Sudoku’s, keep up with the Red Sox, etc. You think all that is easy? OK, OK I’ll give you 4 strokes, you get the fifth one on that fake par 5.

My favorite brother: I’ll take it. Looking forward to seeing you. Bring your A game.