Yes, every golfer knows about the Golf Gods.  When you hit a screaming hook into the dense woods, it is the Golf Gods that decide whether to swallow the ball so it is never found, or to spit it back out into the middle of the fairway.  I have never read this in a golf magazine, but I know it is not wise to anger the Golf Gods.

Golf is such a wonderful game.  It doesn’t matter whether you are a scratch golfer or have never gotten under 100, you can have a good game or a bad game.  It is a game where you are constantly learning.  It truly is one of the puzzles of life.  If, however, you should mention to a friend or your spouse those unforgivable words, “I think I’ve got it,” the Golf Gods will swoop down and crush you.  They will have you questioning everything from your grip to your follow through.

That is my present dilemma.  I am playing well.  I play every Thursday in the Northern Virginia Retired Members’ league.  And, for the last four weeks my scores have been great (for me).  My scores are lower and my handicap has dropped three points.  That means the Golf Gods have me in their sights.  I am high on their victim’s list.  Just writing that I am playing well may have inflamed them.

You can always get advice from those you play with.  I have learned that after hitting a bad shot, never, never ask, “What did I do wrong?”   One fellow will say, “You’re standing too close to the ball after you hit it.”  Yuk, yuk.  Another will say, “You’re swinging way too hard.”  Wait a minute.  Wasn’t that the guy who told me last week, “Just grip it and rip it.”  If I wasn’t watching and someone asks me, I would say, “Your head came up.”  You don’t have to watch to know that.  The Golf Gods love for you to ask, “What did I do wrong?”  That’s part of the slippery slope.

What about reading golf magazines?  I’ve read those magazines like they were the bible.  I’ve cut out articles and put them in files – putting, short game, sand shots, more powerful drives, strategy and probably most important, a file on golf exercises.  I don’t think they have helped me.  Many times they conflict with each other.  I read one article on putting that said that on long putts, don’t look at the ball, look at the hole.  I tried it, but I didn’t hit the ball solidly.  I wonder how that happened?

Putting is such an important part of the game.  I always keep track of the number of putts.  A couple of weeks back, I had 41!  Two per hole is 36.  Get the picture?  When your first putt goes twelve feet past the cup and you realize for the first time that it was a downhill putt, it’s time to regroup.  I also can guarantee that your next putt will not get to the hole.

A TV commentator, a while back, said that Tiger Woods never hits a putt off line.  I was amazed.  That means that every time he misses a putt, he didn’t hit it hard enough or he misread it.  When I make a long putt, I usually accept the fact that I misread the putt just enough to compensate for hitting the ball off line.  Poor Tiger never gets that compensation.  Of course, the Golf Gods are trying to set you up when you make one of those long curving putts.  It doesn’t work on me.  I know it was just dumb luck.  Blind hog, etc.

I love the game and all its challenges.  You have to accept that things will go wrong.  Last Thursday, I was playing a par five at Mount Vernon Country Club.  After two shots, I had 150 yards to the green.  There was a substantial pond between me and the green.  I was also in the light rough and had a downhill lie.  I decided to choke down on my seven wood and move the ball back in my stance.  So far, sounds pretty good.  I factored everything in.  Then, I hit my ball over the pond, but not by enough to clear the stone retaining wall.  My ball swims with the fishes.

This Spring, I was playing on the golf course at Fort McPherson.  This was part of the RAJA (Retired Army Judge Advocates) meeting.  We always play golf.  My partner was Allan Toomey.  On the first or second hole, I hit my ball into a small creek that ran parallel to the fairway.  I could see the ball, but I couldn’t reach it.  I asked Allan if he had a ball retriever.  He said, “I’m having it regripped.”