Thursday, July 24, 2008

SO close.

I golfed at the Canadian with Doc yesterday. And if I had hit the nine iron instead of the eight on the first hole, and if I hadn't hit my six-iron fat on the second hole, and if I hadn't nicked the tree chipping out of the rough on the third, and I hadn't duffed my fairway wood on the fourth, and I had remembered to lay up on the approach to the fifth, and I had turned over my three-iron on the sixth, and I had avoided the water on the seventh, and I hadn't four-putted on the eighth, and I hadn't lipped out on the ninth, and I hadn't tried to chip out of the woods six times on the tenth, and I hadn't clubbed down on the eleventh, and I had hit a proper fade on the twelfth, and I had stayed out of the rough on the thirteenth, and I had hit the green in regulation on the fourteenth, and I hadn't scored an eight on the fifteenth, and I hadn't shanked my approach to the sixteenth, and I had kept my head down on the drive on the seventeenth, and I had read the green better on the eighteenth, I would have shot five-under-par. As it stands, I had the best round of my year. And Doc says that if he reads in my blog that I beat him, he will kill me. So I won't mention it.

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