The only thing worse than losing a golf ball is sometimes finding it.  The other day, after looking for my ball for over four minutes, I found it.  I could identify it as mine.  I just couldn’t retrieve it.  No, it wasn’t in water.  It was a cruel thicket.  Thorns and poison ivy.  I declared the ball not only unplayable, but unrecoverable.  It still lays there as a monument to bad luck.

I am one of those unusual golfers who acknowledges that what went wrong was probably my fault.  Whenever the ball is in a bad spot, I just say to myself, “hell, you hit it there.”  I am convinced most golfers are trained never to acknowledge a mistake.  “I never should have swung with that butterfly sitting on my ball.”  “Did you hear that noise at the top of my backswing?”  Or, on the green: “Did you see that ball jump?  “It must have hit something.”  “Something bit me.”  You have to give them “A” for inventiveness.  When I got home from my bad round, I found a good size rock wedged between the spikes on my right heel.  It probably affected my balance.

Is this a head game or what?  Tiger at Firestone is a classic.  Woods had won on Firestone seven times.  The course was made for Tiger’s game.  So what does he do this year?  He shot four rounds over par with a 78 on Sunday.  It’s time to borrow Tin Cup’s psychologist.  On second thought, never mind.

I had a good round going a while back.  Everything was in sync.  Good contact, good direction, and chips rolling close to the hole.  Then, I missed an 18-inch putt.  It must have hit something, because the ball darted off to the left.  Well, regardless of fault, that was the end of my good game.  Bad contact, bad direction and chips just dribbling onto the green.

All the books say, forget about the bad shot.  Move forward.  Concentrate on the next hole.  Blah, blah, blah.  I decided what I had done wrong (it was me) and what I needed to do on the next short putt.  Unfortunately, my next short putt was for a double bogey.

I’m 130 yards from the green and there is a sand bunker right in front of the green.  I hit a crisp iron and the ball lands on the fringe between the bunker and the green.  It trickles forward and rolls down toward the pin.  What a great shot!  But the same crisp shot could have landed six inches shorter in the same fringe and rolled back into the bunker, finally settling in a foot print where some jerk had failed to rake the bunker.  I guess that’s a bad shot.  And that six inches may be the difference between feeling good or bad about yourself.  I think the really good players have figured this out.  I’m still working at it.

After I got home, I found out that Mike Thomas, editor of www.DCguide.com is picking up my blogs and publishing them on their web site.  That made me feel good and anyway, I think I know what I did wrong on that 18-inch putt.

When I was a little kid, I learned that if I broke something that belonged to another kid, I had to pay for it or replace it.  That’s just fair.  Fairness is a good standard by which to live your life.  I have really tried to do so.  Of course, what I think is fair, someone else may not.  It can be subjective.  So you be my objective voice and let me know what you think about the following.

The Army seems to be gobbling up the golf courses at Fort Belvoir and not replacing them or providing restitution.  I don’t think that is fair.  Fort Belvoir had a delightful nine hole course on the South Post.  It was pretty flat and open and not too long.  It was ideal for young soldiers learning how to play and elderly people who wanted to walk the course and get some exercise.  Then the Army decided it needed a newer, larger hospital and began to build on the South Nine.  The South Nine Golf Course disappeared.

Now, you might say, “Hey, the Army can do what it wants with its property.”  But all Army property is not the same.  The South Nine Golf Course was a nonappropriated fund (NAF) property.  When I was an instructor at The JAG School in Charlottesville, Virginia, back in the early 70’s, I taught a one-hour course called Nonappropriated Funds.  It was really deadly.  It may have been the deadliest course at the School.  But, the students needed to know that all funds were not appropriated by Congress.  The Post Exchange and other programs generated money for the benefit of the troops.  That money was nonappropriated funds and the Army was to use the funds for the morale, welfare and recreation of the troops and their dependents.  I would tell the students, who were still awake, that the Army held the nonappropriated funds in trust for the morale and welfare of soldiers and their dependents.  They can’t take it away or give it away without restitution.

Not too long ago, there was a Corps of Engineer project that, in effect, would wipe out a soccer field at Fort Belvoir.  So before the field was destroyed, the Post make arrangements to build another soccer field to replace the one that was being destroyed.  Now, that’s how I believe the system should work.  The soccer field was a nonappropriated fund property (morale, welfare and recreation – MWR) and the Army met its obligation as trustee of the MWR funds by making restitution in kind.  However, it didn’t work that way with the South Nine Golf Course.  The only distinction between the two situations is that they had soccer moms!

Now, the Army has its sights set on building the National Museum of the United States Army (NMUSA) on the front nine of the Gunston Golf Course on the North Post at Fort Belvoir.  Fort Belvoir has two adjoining golf courses on the North Post, Gunston and Woodlawn.  Both are championship length courses.  I don’t want to get into site selection.  Obviously, I didn’t want them putting the museum on my golf course.  But, well-meaning officials decided to put it there.  But, what about restitution?  What about holding in trust morale, welfare and recreation property (paid for with nonappropriated funds) for soldiers and their dependents?  Some not-so-well-meaning officials decided that Fort Belvoir only needed 27 holes.

Two years ago, we had 45 holes.  Now, they are talking about 27 holes.  I can just hear the conversation.  The commander asks, “Can they get by with 27 holes?”  And, the staff says, “Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.”  What about holding NAF property in trust?  What about restitution?  Where are their heads?   I know I keep repeating myself.  I can’t help it.  I keep frothing at the mouth and by the time I get myself cleaned up, I just start over again.  Fairness, restitution, fairness.  I’ll be back in a minute.

The money for the museum is supposed to come mostly from donations.  It ain’t happening.  In 2007, they had contributions of over five million dollars, but they had expenses of over three million.  They aren’t going to get to $200 million that way.  I donated early on, so I have received a lot of their subsequent solicitations.  In my opinion, the solicitations are too expensive and slick.  The last time I observed such slick solicitations was the Ollie North campaign for senator.

Please understand that I am all in favor of an Army museum.  If it has to be on the Gunston front nine, so be it (the latest drawings have them encroaching on holes 11 and 12 on the back nine for a parking lot).  But, please rework the Gunston Course along with the museum.  That is only fair and it will keep the Army from looking like a negligent fiduciary (or worse).

There was an Army funded feasibility study completed in November 2008 regarding whether 27 holes would be sufficient.  In all fairness, this should have been done before the “three bags full” decision.  The study concluded that the course, reduced to 27 holes could lose over a quarter of a million dollars a year.  So I think we are going to end up with approval for 36 holes, but no money to build them.  The money should come from the Army.  The Army is holding the Gunston Course in trust (here I go again).  The Army needs to make restitution.

Here is the scenario I see.  The Army breaks ground on construction on time.  They have already been drilling for core samples on the front nine, even though the environmental assessment hasn’t been approved to select the location.  And, of course, the environmental assessment will have alternate selection sites as it is required, even though the Army has pushed ahead and selected the Gunston site.  Is that legal?   I used to teach Environmental Law, but it was too may moons ago.  I see them tearing up the course and then, not having the money to build the museum.

I’m not the only one who thinks there won’t be enough donations.  The AUSA (Association of the United States Army), a private organization focused on the best interests of the Army, has just submitted a legislative resolution to Congress.  It requests Congress to “provide funding for the facility at Fort Belvoir, Virginia to house the National Museum of the United States Army.”

If Congress funds the museum, I hope there is some extra in there to make the Gunston Course whole.  The restitution I am talking about should be part of the over all museum project.  That is the only fair solution.

What can I say?  We love Disney World.  I think it opened in 1971 and we took our kids in 1973.  Since then, we have gone over a dozen times.  We have taken our children and parents.  We have had family reunions involving four generations and lately, it’s been just me and Carole.

It’s nice to go someplace that is clean and everyone is friendly and helpful.  Think about that.  It’s the Disney philosophy.  No arrogant clerks.  You never get the feeling that someone wants to pass you on just to get rid of you.  Sweet.  I find myself smiling a lot.  Even when I see young parents with three worn out, cranky kids, I smile and say to myself, thank goodness they’re not ours.

The last two times we have gone down, we have combined Disney World with a two-day golf school at David Leadbetter’s Champion Gate.  It’s only about four miles down I-4.  While at golf school, we stay at Shades of Green, the military recreation center at Disney World.  And Missy, our daughter who lives in Jacksonville, came down to keep Carole company.

One of the neat things about the Leadbetter Academy is they let me pick the dates for my instruction.  Then, they post the dates on their website and fill up the class (four students per instructor).  Maybe this was the one time that the economic downturn helped me.  It turned out that I was the only student who signed up.  The class only took about five hours  each day, rather than eight, but I was receiving one-on-one instruction.  Not bad.

Andrew Park, my instructor, video taped everything I did.  We spent quite a bit of the first day reminding me of what I had learned and forgotten two years before.  That’s a hell of a note.  I won’t forget again.  We also spent a lot of time in the classroom looking at the videos.  Andrew would set up a split screen with me on one side and Tiger Woods or Ernie Ells on the other.  Now, I ask you, is that fair?  Once you got past the fact that we were all swinging from the right side, the similarities vanished.  Oh yes, the ball looked about the same.

The split screen is an excellent way to observe what Tiger was doing wrong.  Oh, I’m sorry, I was referring to Tiger Rice.  Andrew wanted me to be tall like Ernie and Tiger.  So did I.  So did my football coaches.  It just ain’t going to happen.  When I was growing up, my Mom told me that if I ate my salad, I would grow tall.  What a crock.  I finally figured out that Andrew wanted me to stand taller over the ball.  “Stand tall like Tiger.”  I got it, but it took me much too long.

I do love the game.  The Washington Post, for Valentine’s Day, asked people to express love in six words.  All I could think of was, “It’s curling, curling.  It dropped in!”

The down side of a golf school is it will take me two or three months to be hitting the ball as well as I was before I went to school.  But the thought of hitting the ball farther, straighter and stopping the ball on the green like a “dropped cat” keeps me going.  Oh, I forgot to mention.  I finished first in my class.

For the last five or six trips, we have obtained a Disney package that included everything.  Room, meals, recreation (spelled GOLF- I played twice), transportation and entry to all the parks.  We also have been staying in the concierge building which provides breakfast, late morning and early afternoon snacks and appetizers between five and seven o’clock.  We seem to be paying for a lot of duplication and we plan to take a look at how to be more frugal.  Disney World has great restaurants.  We particularly like Narcoossee’s,  located at the boat house at the Grand Floridian.  But let’s face it.  You can only eat so much and with everything free, it becomes a task.  Eating should never become a task.

Because all the help is so polite, it’s fun to watch them struggle with stupid questions.  Stating, “That’s really dumb” is not an option.  For example, there is a launch that takes passengers from the Magic Kingdom to the Grand Floridian and then, on to the Polynesian Village.  We always stay at the Polynesian Village.  As the launch was pulling into the Grand Floridian, I asked the captain if the boat was going to take me to Fort Wilderness.  I could just see the captain mentally racing through his etiquette book.  Just saying, “Didn’t you read the signs before you got on the boat?” wasn’t acceptable.  Also, after having one of the concierges change a few reservations for us, she asked for our room number.  I told her we weren’t staying in the concierge building.  The look on her face was priceless.  Then, Carole gave her the room number.  The concierge later told me that she would have handled the matter politely because that was what was expected of her.

This is the first year that I can remember when I didn’t buy a Disney T-shirt, golf shirt or tie.  You can only wear so many and I never dispose of any of them.  Also, I received a Leadbetter pullover and cap (part of the goodie bag).  The “free” goodie bag comes with the not-so-free lessons.  I did buy an Uncle Sam stove pipe hat.  When I wore it I “stood taller.”  I was almost as tall as Tiger.  Andrew would have been proud of me.

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.”