Opening Round Expectations on the Golf Course

Tiger Woods - Opening Round Expectations on the Golf Course

It’s the single day of the year that rivals Christmas, and it’s the closest you’ll get to that joyous feeling back in ’96 when you tore open a new Nintendo 64. If you live in the unforgiving tundra that is New England, where Mother Nature is more psychotic than your ex, then you’re lucky if you get to tee off in March. Hopefully you were able to sneak to the driving range before hand and maybe get a couple digits.

No matter your handicap, you always have an unrealistic sense of optimism heading into that first round. Much like being a Jets fan, you pray that this is the season, but you have that lingering feeling in your gut. That overwhelming dread that Geno will be named the starter and then you’re surely fucked. For most of us, it’s the fear that we can’t shake the yips and we’ll be buying rounds every weekend for our buddies.

For three straight nights you watch Johnny Miller instructional videos on YouTube before heading to the range. You always hit the ball like a club pro your first few times there, which only feeds the false hope that you’ll become a scratch golfer. Let’s be real though, once you step up to that first tee everything you learned from Johnny goes to shit and you choke like Sergio on Sunday.

Today is the day. While on the practice green, you block out all negative thoughts.

Happy Meme

In order to calm the nerves, I find a nice swig from the flask does the trick. I don’t care if your tee time is at 9:43 AM. How do you think all those middle aged, blue collar muni members hit it dead straight with clubs older than you? Sure it takes you a couple strokes to find the hole, but once you sink that first putt you feel like Derek Jeter in game 7 with a 3-2 count in the bottom of the ninth. The starter grunts at you and your group to head to the tee, looks like the old man is as miserable as last year. It’s game time.

Since you finished dead last in your fantasy league you get to tee off first. In your cocky state, you proudly propose a no breakfast ball rule. As you step up and take a few flawless practice swings, all you think to yourself is “for the love of god don’t shank it in the woods”. Nothing is more embarrassing than hitting a shitty tee shot to start your first round. Sure enough you hit a duck hook out of bounds and your buddies look at you the same way they did when you brought home that fat chick the night before.

At this point, you’re thinking “fuck me, why did I spend my abysmal bonus on this new driver?” You begin to question everything in your life at this moment. Then one of your friends tells you “hey man it’s only your first round of the season, you’ll turn it around”. He then proceeds to pipe it dead center. Fuck off Jeff, throw me a Natty Light.

Now that you're on the course, you should think about bringing hard liquor next time.

 

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