BROTHER. I know the feeling all to well.
Knifey 90 well within reach
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A week removed from recording a Bladey ace, we’ve broken through the Bladey-80 challenge. It was a round full of ups and downs, featuring burnt lips, 50 shades of Icarito, a rub of the green and ultimately the triumph of slaying the Bladey-80 challenge.
We. Golfed. Our. Ball.
We start off with the hosel-adjacent 4 iron off the first tee that finds its way into the trees (there’s no practice facility at my home 9 hole course, and teeing off after 3 warm up swings isn’t ideal). Our inner artiste comes out on the second shot and we craft a fadey 7 iron around a tree stump 5 feet in front of us, over a tree 50 yards in front of the green but ultimately come up just short. Our par-save putt comes up short to start off with a bogey. A can’t-feel-it pure 7 iron stays straight as an arrow leaves us short sided but pin high in the thick rough. A classy chip one hops off the stick and drops to 4 inches for a comfy par. After burning the lip for a birdie on 3, 4 iron - 4 iron - 3/4 wedge comes up just short of the green on the par 5 4th hole. Another classy chip leaves us a kick in par.
Hole 5 (the scene of the bladey ace a week previous) sees a well struck 3/4 wedge leave us 8 feet from the hole. A putt that’s tracking the whole way comes up one roll short, but we’ll take comfy pars. On the 6th tee we absolutely mash a 4 iron down the heart with a baby fade. We crest the hill and see the ball at the 100 yard marker. Chippy wedge rolls to about 15 feet, but a good putt lips out (again).
The 7th sees our first real mistake of the day. A 278 yard dog-leg left, the par 4 7th is bisected at the 100 yard marker by a river. With an elevated tee and a 1 club wind behind us, the play is a knockdown 7 iron. Unfortunately there’s a group letting us play through, and the adrenaline of people watching sees us pump a 7 iron. Our ball caroms off the cart path and bounces twice over the bridge and into a hazard. Fuck. We walk up and disgustedly pull the ball out of the weeds. A pitch from 90 yards finds the green, but a two putt bogey means we’re +2 through 7.
Hole 8 sees the Year of the Process rewards us with a comfy par. A wayward 4 iron finds a fairway bunker. We’re 180 yards out (on what’s a par 5 on the scorecard, but admittedly it should be a par 4). Rather than trying to get greedy and trying to take on an approach that sees OB right and water short left, we punch out to 100 yards and proceed to wedge it to 12 feet. Another putt comes to rest on the lip, but we’re thrilled with boring, sensible golf paying off. Flip wedge to the middle of 9, and it’s two putts to a front-side 38.
Two granolas later, we’re making the turn to “10” (same 9 from the tips this time). We keep it between the mustard and the mayo on 1 and 2 and are even through two.
Queue Icarito music
The 3rd is a 490 yard par 5 with OB up most of the left side. There’s trouble long right, but out of reach of our 4 iron. We can’t miss left, so we can’t miss right. We setup for a nice little fade up the right side… and slice a ball that balloons into sky and finds the fescue on the left. A 3 minute search for our ball comes up empty. We drop, and attempt to hit an easy punch 7 iron to 150 yards. It’s a blind shot from where we’ve dropped, and the punch 7 iron is well struck but pulled right. It’s partially blocked by the tree line right, but we’ve got a left pin and 175 yards to the green. It’s not panic mode yet, but the blades just got RULLLY thinnn.
Bad swing thoughts creep in. Don’t miss it left, and don’t hit it thin. And of course, we do exactly that. The ball lands four feet over a creek that protects the approach to the green, but we’ve find ourselves facing a 60 yard pitch up to a severely elevated green. Standing over the ball, and with the sun beating down, all we hear is drip, drip, drip. A pool of wax is forming at our feet at an alarming rate. An up and down still gets us a bogey and we can live with that. Until we chunk the first chip. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccckkkkkkk. The second chip is on, but agonizingly short. We line up the putt, take a couple deep breaths and take a practice stroke. Like a Speith thread, we’re positive vibes only. We’re not going to make a fucking triple. And we don’t!!! We slam a 15 foot putt into the heart of the cup. +2 through 3.
Step up to the 4th tee with positive vibes… and the slicey-ballooney 4 iron off the tee rears its head again. Blocked by the trees, and with no real line through, we decide to hit a sensible** 7 iron back into play. It’s a dead pull. A branch has fallen victim to our errant shot, but we don’t know if its sacrifice is enough to keep our ball in play. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why didn’t you just play the wedge back into the middle of the fairway you idiot?!?
Friends - on this day St. Rappeo was looking out for us. As we crest the hill and beleagueredly trudge towards the death of the Bladey-80 challenge - a miracle! Our ball has caught up in the rough, and we’re still alivd!. We’re alive, but with a swing laden with scar tissue from this very shot. A mere few days past, we had this same shot and dead pulled it out of bounds. And that’s when the big gui himself (s/o @Randy) comes upon us from high.
State your intention, he says shrouded in a smoky haze.
If we’re going down, we’re going down swinging. We have 195 yards into a stiff wind with a front pin. We take two solid practice swings, address the ball, and flush the most beautiful bladey fade to 15 feet. The blade making contact with the ball through the thick rough produces a sound that even Odysseus couldn’t resist. Back from the dead and with renewed vigor and confidence, we step up to the putt. We make a solid stroke and the hand of St. Rappeo steers our putt true into the heart. The mega 4 gets us back to +1 through 4 holes.
After the mega 4 we knew the Bladey-80 was a mere formality. We had gone to the brink and come back alive. We plotted our way around the rest of the course, hitting 4 of the 5 remaining greens in regulation. A true rub of the green situation faced us on 8. With our ball resting on the collar of the rough and facing a down hill shot with water long, perhaps the classiest chips of the day left us with a tap in par. A burnt lip on 9 meant we would not bring it back to even par on the back, but we came home with a 37.
With only a 4 iron, 7 iron, pitching wedge and putter, we carded 38-37 75. Long live St. Rappeo, and long live the year of the blade.
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Motherfuckin’ people out here beating the Bladey with 4 fucking clubs. God damn you all.
I mean congrats, but fuck.
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I was about to politely harrumph a 5700yd attempt for qualifying… but you did it with 4 clubs; that’s outstanding.
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While standing on the wrong side of the ball too!
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I can’t decide if I’m really digging the way your wrote your front/back/total scores of if you’re just a sociopath. I can’t stop looking at them.
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Habit from back in my assistant pro days. But, being that I spent seven years at our local muni, I could be a sociopath too…
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That’s scoreboard writing if I’ve ever seen one. I remember spending like a month learning calligraphy then getting to my first course and they laughed at the idea of not just writing normal.
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I got chastised at an outing last year for how I write my scores. When my dad and I are playing together, I just write +/- to par so that it is easier to total the scores at the end. I completely forgot about it and had to rewrite the entire scorecard.
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Friends, I’ve achieved the impossible. I broke 80 for the first time in my life with only blades. There is an asterisk because of the length, but fuck it. I’ m proud of myself.
Also, the times are fucked up there. It was more like 1:30 on both 9s. Since I wasn’t live tracking all of the back, it doesn’t count it right. But the total time is correct.
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This is fucking sick. Big congrats!
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I sure as hell counted my first 79 at a short par 70. Nice back nine dude. Congrats.
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Wow! How about par par birdie to finish at 79? Sick!!
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reminds me of the time I needed a par-par finish to shoot a 79 and ended up going triple - double.
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Luckily 8 is a very easy par 5 and 9 is a short par 4. Like I cut the dogleg with my 205 yd 3-iron and had less than 100 in. I went double, bogey the first time around so I had plenty of time to think about it the second time.
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The closest I had ever been before with a full bag, I needed a par-par finish and went double-double.
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I tried and I failed again today to shoot net par or better at my local muni. 2 strokes shy of my goal and goddamn I have never hit so many 4-5i in my life in one round. The random pairing I had thought I was some kind of psychopath without the means to own a driver/wood. But next time I attempt this I will succeed.
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Haha same. 17 tee “ok, just two pars. Nice and easy”….3 seconds later snap hook into pond to get things rolling.
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