Finishing hole

This is a photograph of the final hole at the Cypress Point Golf Club in Monterey, California. And, it was the scene of the climax of a book titled "The Match" by Mark Frost, (Hyperion 2007) . The book tells the story of six men, and how they came to compete and watch an historic day of golf a this place in 1956.

The players: Ben Hogan, Byron Nelson, (professional golfers), and Ken Venturi, Harvie Ward, (amateurs).

The match was set up as a sidelight to the Bing Crosby Pro-Am by Eddie Lowery, who made a bet on the proposition that his two amateur golfers could beat any two pros in a match play round. George Coleman took this bet, and the match was on, for the next day at 11AM at Cypress Point. The book is more than just the recapitulation of the play that day. The history of each man involved, the persons who dreamed, designed and constructed this golf course, and the result of play that day are all elegantly described and turned into a tale of utmost interest and sympathy.

This is a book for all who love golf, history, and irony.

False fronts and other golf stories.

18th

My local country club contains 6,200 yards of undulating, sinuous, lush and verdant meadow that is a perfect representation of all the great and small things encountered in this life that are not what they seem to be. Yes, along the green and swelling fairways there are hillocks and raised putting surfaces containing 'false fronts' that cause one's golf shot to roll in the opposite direction of what was intended or needed as a result of a club swing. The hole locations on the greens are not usually a serious problem. The length of the grass in the rough is manageable. The issue is those damnable raised greens themselves, presenting their 'false fronts' that seem higher in altitude than the distant view one may get of a Boeing 747 on its glide path to Logan Airport, (many such Boeings can be spied by the alert strokesman while strolling on the local layout). These 'false fronts' mock us all and cause the improperly executed shot to end with a ball thudding into a raised, grassed, earthen wall, and then roll...backward. Back down the slope into a valley of divots, from which one may try to recover, but not for par. No, never for par.

On the matter of the local aircraft, in the early morning or in the late, lazy afternoon the low rumblings of the airport's winged citizens, their groanings heard from ten miles away over the harbor, make their intent clear to even the clueless. Take off is imminent, get out of the way.

In fact, this warning in this phrase applies should a fellow golfer be near me, whilst I am in the act of "swinging."

Here is our boy Woodsy, the World's Greatest Golfer, holding the trophy signifying his victory in the United States Open in June 2008. This championship was gained although WGG playedwith a leg fractured (by stress) in two places, and a ruptured ACL. While most of us would not arise in the morning should we have sustained such damage to any appendage of ours, i.e nose; or an encounter with a stray zit...Woodsy competes on the most challenging layout that the USGA can arrange, and then wins.

Although WGG is still better than anyone else when he plays with only one leg working at maximum warp speed, he has decided to rest and recuperate before he competes again, doubtless as a balm to the players who think that they may have a chance in competition with him. He beats them all with his leg broken, ergo, they don't.

Do you suppose that an injury to one's knee of this dimension is painful? A rhetorical question, dear reader.

On to a topic dear to my retired goal of a more structured diet, i.e. cooking food, not heating food someone else made. I and my bamboo skewers are partnering up for a delightful grill season. Among my other healthful retirement resolves are frequent trips to GNC after reading Men's Health magazine...stylin' new threads...weight lifting under the supervision of the aforementioned Delainey...cucumber salad...walking on the golf course...and declaring every day a holiday that calls for a drink...I think that is what A-Rod has been doing all his adult life...how's he doing, anyway?

Is A-Rod rich enough to get divorced? Two kids? Who is?