I’m too old for this. This is the summer from Hell. Everytime we turn around we are packing or unpacking. The retirement years are supposed to be relaxing. But it seems like all the good times are somewhere we have to travel to.
Early this month we went to Myrtle Beach so I could participate in the Retired Military Golf Classic. This was my first time. It’s been going on for many years and limits itself to 800 men and 200 women. That constitutes a gaggle. Four days of golf on a different course each day with three new partners.
Before I started I distinctly marked four balls; one for each day (Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday). On my first shot on my first day, I hit Wednesday’s ball into a lake on the 8th hole at Long Bay (Shotgun start). Thursday’s ball only lasted for about six more holes. As a matter of principle, I refused to play Friday’s ball on Wednesday. I dug out an old, well-used ball and played the rest of the day with it. In fact, I started the next day with the same old ball.
In a scramble, once the team decides which ball they are playing, we pick up the rest of the balls. Consequently, my team mates would pick up my ball. Because of its shabby condition and 18 carefully located black dots, the ball became known as “Black Death.” I refused to take a hint. But halfway through the round, Black Death took a bath. One of my partners, Tom, offered to fish it out of the lake, but I told him to forget about it.
Shortly after that, Tom came up to me and handed me a ball marked just like mine. Same brand, same style and markings. It was my ball! Finally I said, “Tom, this is my ball. Where did you find it?” He told me he had fished it out of the lake on the 8th hole at Long Bay yesterday. Wednesday’s ball had arisen from its watery grave.
The tournament gave out prizes to the top 50 in each flight, but my total score was quite a bit short of being unremarkable.
We got home from Myrtle Beach, unpacked, picked up our dog, Nikki, and washed our clothes. Then we packed, dropped off Nikki and headed for Charlottesville, Virginia. The Retired Army Judge Advocates were holding their annual reunion in Charlottesville, “The Home of the Army Lawyer.” Our JAG School is located on the grounds of the University of Virginia.
What a crowd. We had about 250 people attending. That’s 100 more than we have ever had before. And the Rice theory on RAJA is that once we get JAGs to attend the reunion, they will have such a great time, they will return. So if my theory is correct, we should have a big crowd next year in Fort Worth, Texas. Howdy partner.
Every living former Army Judge Advocate General was in attendance. We actually held our business meeting in one of the School’s classrooms. Then, after the meeting, they took a picture of all the TJAGs. Tim Naccarato called their names for the picture, just in case, because of their senior age they might have forgotten they were the TJAG. They also took a picture of all the former Commandants of the School. There were 11 of us.
We got home, unpacked, picked up Nikki and now we are packing for a family reunion in Branson, Missouri. Nikki is standing around staring at us. She gets that look every time the suitcases come out. This summer, they never get put away. I am getting tired just writing about this.
After Branson comes a 14 day cruise to Kodiak, Alaska with Ron and Judy Holdaway. We have been trying to get together for about four years. This year it worked out.
Then, my double-nickel (55th) high school class reunion get pushed from September to the end of August. We can do it, but it is going to be tight. We may just leave Nikki in the kennel. But don’t tell her. She’s just getting over Charlottesville.
In June, July and August, we will be traveling 45 days. That’s cruel and unusual. My golf team is putting me on probation. The only good news is I don’t have to buy camera film and there’s no luau.
Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com
Monthly Archives: June 2011
Golf – Mind vs. Mindless
I’ve always loved golf and for the first 50 years of my life, I was clueless and horrible. I was a fairly good athlete in baseball, football, soccer, volleyball, ping pong – you name it. But the things that made me good in those sports didn’t seem to help in golf. Being a ball of aggressive energy ready to attack doesn’t help the golf swing.
About 10 years ago, I started going to golf schools in Florida, and little by little, I have learned about the golf swing. On many occasions, I can actually make it work. I no longer feel hopelessly frightened standing over the ball. That’s important!
I am still grasping to find the “secret” to improve my game. I subscribe to golf magazines. They have articles that promise 20 extra yards on my drive and that I will never three putt again (that can be accomplished by always missing the third putt). I have a closet full of swing devices that are supposed to solve all my problems. The only one I don’t have is the club with the hinge in the middle of the shaft. A pro told me not to buy it, because he was afraid I would hurt myself.
I also have a wide range of how-to-play-golf books. I know some of them are really good, but you can’t learn to play the violin by reading a book. When Carole and I go to our favorite used book store, I migrate over to the sports/golf section. Two weeks ago, I found a book that I thought might help. It was entitled, “Golf – The Mind Factor.” It was written by Darren Clarke and a sport’s psychologist, Dr. Karl Morris.
Clarke is from Northern Ireland and the first two chapters seemed devoted to how great it was for the Europeans to beat the Americans in the Ryder Cup. If I had been smart I would have stopped right there. But I was looking for that little gem that would help my game. There was a chapter entitled, “The master key: Correct breathing.” The next time I went out, I took a deep breath before each shot. I must not have been doing it right. At the very end of the book, they mentioned that taking a couple deep breaths to get rid of negativity and reduce the emotional charge “is completely ineffective.” It’s not the breathing in that’s important, it’s the breathing out. I thought they kind of went together.
This book was written in 2005 before Tiger Woods wrecked any SUVs. They thought Tiger personified confidence. They liked the way he walked down the fairway. The message was if I walked down the fairway like Tiger Woods, then I would play better. I’m not buying it. Of course, I watched the press conference.
They asked me to reflect on my most embarrassing experience on a golf course. The message was to forget the bad experiences and remember the good ones. Most people do exactly the opposite. My most embarrassing was down at Walt Disney World many years back. I took a lesson right before I played. The pro noticed I was dipping my front knee on my back swing. This lead to a reverse pivot and to me falling backwards as I was hitting the ball. To solve the problem, the pro had me start my swing with most of my weight on my back foot. When I got to the golf course, I tried his approach with a fairway wood. I swung over the ball and smacked it with the bottom of the club. The ball went straight up into the air. I had to step smartly out of the way to keep from being hit. After that, I decided to forget about the lesson until I had a chance to practice.
I’m giving the book one star out of five. I’d have given it a star and a half if they hadn’t slammed the American Ryder Cup team. The only thing about the book that excites me is that I am pretty sure that I can sell it back to the used book store for half price.
Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com