Dear ITLN PWR

Dear ITLN PWR,

Thank you for cutting me off this morning on the Dulles Toll Road / 495 on-ramp. It's always nice when people ride down the merge lane, and then force themselves in at the last second. I'm sorry that I wasn't willing to let you in, but I feel like people who skirt the merge are jerks. That's my own issue I need to resolve, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you by honking my horn (extendedly) and flipping you off. You were completely right to get out of your car - on the on-ramp - and walk over to me. You asked if I was a 'tough guy' and clearly I wasn't, as I didn't even roll down my window to allow you to give me a much needed punch in the face. I am glad you were able to punch my window a couple of times - I'm betting that felt pretty good to release the pressure. Once again, thank you for showing me that deep down, people are basically good. Stay Classy...

From Dawn to Dusk: 72 Holes of Greatness

Barry Bonds may have set the single season home run mark at 73, but when it comes to setting records on the golf course, the new magic number is 72. In just 13 hours of work, Brett and I played full 4 rounds of golf (that's 72 holes to you and me, Rus) at Swan Point last Thursday (July 2nd - go ahead and pencil that date down for a repeat in 2010). The first ones out, Brett and I tee'd off at 7:30am, and walked off a vacant course around 8:30 pm after hitting a victory drive on what would be hole 73.

"Wow," you're probably thinking, "that's quite insane and rather fanatical - and yet at the same time, glorious!"

Indeed.

Everything seemed to work out for us. We rolled up to the clubhouse early enough not be paired up with another twosome, and we spent most of the day going from green to tee box with almost no wait. Even the weather was perfect, topping out in the mid 80's with a cool breeze coming off the Potomac. The course itself, while a bit of a haul (an hour and half drive from Washington DC), is one of the nicest in the area, and seemed to get more enjoyable the more times we went around. Certainly, the day was pure goodness.

At a glance:

We both started out a little stiff, rushing from the car, to the clubhouse, to the 1st tee - and as a result, both Brett and I put up our worst scores on the day. We both played solid in the middle, but while Brett finished strong (80!), I limped to the finish line essentially double bogeying the back nine. Our average scores for the 4 rounds were actually a little better than our current scoring average (Brett 84.25 vs 85.6 / Saps 99.5 vs 101.8). As a fun little side stat, taking the best scores on each hole would have put Brett at a 71, and me at an 82.

Hole by Hole Recap:

Hole 1: The course starts out with nice little down hill par 4. With the second shot carrying water, we both played conservative with our first shots - Brett hitting the hybrid just over the fairway bunker, and me playing a 4 iron to the woods down the right side, then punching out to the edge of the water leaving a nice sand wedge to the green. We followed the same strategy for the first 3 rounds before switching it up in the final - where Brett hit a driver to the edge of the water, and I hit a 4 iron to the woods on the left hand side of the course.

Hole 2: The second hole is actually one of the more difficult on the course. A sharp dogleg right, this hole actually requires you to carry your drive 200+ over the wetlands. I seemed to have less trouble with this hole than Brett, but it wasn't until our 3rd time through that I realized the reason he couldn't pick out a good line on his drive was because he couldn't see over the tall reeds. "Aim just to the left of the sand trap," I said. "I can't see the damn sand trap," yelled Brett.

Hole 3: This par 3 didn't present us with much of a challenge, but it did provide the grounds for one of the best shots of the day. Brett took an unusual route to his par in round 3 after his tee shot hooked left and landed between two very large trees. Wanting to put all thoughts of luck aside, Brett called his shot; low punch between the tress, hitting the uphill side of the elevated green, then running 30 feet to the pin. Brett failed by only running the ball 25 feet to the pin, leaving him a 5 footer for a bad ass par.

Hole 4: Swan Point's "signature" hole, this was one of my favorite holes, both in terms of layout and scoring. I managed two pars and a bogey, without putting the ball into the water. My first par came after landing my 3rd shot right of the green. With the green running steeply away from me (taking the ball directly into the water), I flopped the ball to the closest edge of the green, and watched it run all the way down to within a foot of the pin. This marked the first of many solid flop shots on the day. This also marked the first of many wild life sightings, as an eagle was seen perched in the trees. Majestic creatures....simply breathtaking.

Hole 5: This hole was the first of back to back bastards, ranking as the #1 difficulty for me, and #3 for Brett. We both tended to shy away from the water on the left, but ended up over compensating and spent a lot of time looking for our balls in the woods on the right. My best drive on this hole was actually a topped 'stinger' landing 220 yards away. The second shot here is even more difficult, with the pin sitting on the right side of the green protected by both water and sand. Even worse, the green sloped steeply from left to right - which meant even taking the 'safe' route to the left side of the green produced a very scary downhill chip as water and sand waited on the other end. I put 2 balls into the water on my second round, one on the approach, and another on a flubbed approach coming off the drop. Bummer.

Hole 6: The second bastard messed with you in two ways; the first was on the tee box, which lines the hitter straight into the woods on the right side. Neither of us could find a way to aim left on this hole, repeatedly hitting into the woods. Of course, if the funky angle tee box didn't get you, the 20 foot high plateau green did. Guarded by sand on every side, this temple of Fail got us almost every time. I did have a memorable shot during the first round, hitting out of a very wet left side bunker, and putting enough loft on the ball to land on the green. The bonus was pulling this stunt off in front of one of the course marshal's who was riding around putting in the flag sticks (I forgot to mention we played the first 5 holes in the morning without flag sticks - Brett actually played better).

Hole 7: This marked a nice stretch of easier holes, with a dogleg left short par 4. After putting our first round balls into the woods to the right, Brett and I opted to fire left in an attempt to cut the corner. We found a lot of success down the left side and pulled a bunch of pars and bogeys - no birds though.

Hole 8: For a long par 3, this hole actually played rather easy. Brett flat out owned it, paring 3 out of 4 - although I don't think he made a single GIR (opting to lay up and play conservative). My lone par on this hole came off a sweet 4 iron starting at the right edge of the green, and moving to the left. I put the ball within 3 feet of the pin, but pulled a "Phil" and choked away my birdie by pushing the ball off to the right. Brett's best shot on the hole came in the 3rd round. After putting his tee shot into the left bunker, he fought off the wet sand (the bunkers were playing very wet and difficult all day) and put the ball within a foot for the sand save!

Hole 9: Another dogleg left requiring a carry over water. We managed to stay dry on this hole - although my 2nd round tee shot hooked left, and basically followed the edge of the water landing maybe a foot next to the water's edge (living dangerously!). As I mentioned above, the bunkers were playing wet all day long, and it wasn't until late into our second round / early third round that they started to dry out. I almost hit Carl Spackler on my 3rd round approach shot while he was draining the bunker with a mechanical pump.

Hole 10: The first hole on the back 9 is a short par 4 with some trouble down the right side. Brett's bogey in round 3 produced another memorable shot, as his drive found some thick rough down the right side. Not only was his ball in the thick rough, but the lie looked like a small drainage ditch. Stealing success from the grip of failure, Brett punched the ball out of the deep badness, and landed just left of the green.

Hole 11: The first of back to back par 3's, 11 & 12 played like night and day for us. Hole 11 is considered the #4 most difficult on the course, and for Brett it played exactly that way (one par, two bogeys and a double). I however, played the hole more consistently with three bogeys and a double (Brett = Better than me) and the hole ranked as #11 handicap hole for me. Brett did managed to put a tee shot within a couple feet of the pin, unfortuneately it was on a 'just for giggles' shot. We also saw some cool discovery channel action on this hole, as a crane plucked a sun fish out of the pond, proudly showing off his lunch to us as we drove past before choking it down like modenz mo.....wait....I'll keep this classy.

Hole 12: While I played bogey golf on number 11, the 12th flat out kicked my butt. Fortunately this 243 yard par 3 was playing from the up tee box, resulting in a more manageable 220 yard hole. Not that it made any difference for me, as I snapped my first tee shot Waaaaaay off to the left. On my second round I inadvertantly discovered the secret to success on the hole as I topped my drive causing me to "lay up" at the ladies tee box. From 100 yards out, I managed to put the ball on the green and 2 putt for my only bogey on the day. Brett played this hole very consistent, landing his tee shot on the right side (sometimes on the green, sometimes just off), and then two putting his way to bogey-town or par-ville.

Hole 13: Easily the biggest bastard on the back 9, Brett and I played the 13th with failing consistency. With a blind drive over the wetlands into a very narrow fairway, keeping the ball straight was essential - and impossible for Brett whose first 2 drives went left, and into the marsh. I, on the other hand, managed to land safe with my first two drives, only to 'skull' my second shot 100 yards to the left and into the marsh. F-U hole 13!! Also, Brett did managed to find his ball on the edge of the marsh in the first round, and attempted to punch out to the fairway. He was talking with CT while looking for his ball, and placed his phone down on the ground while he attempted his punch out. For whatever reason, he placed the cell phone directly in front of his ball, and the punch shot struck the cell phone not only causing damage to the phone (fail) but stopping the ball from reaching the fairway (fail).

Hole 14: While hole 13 owned Brett, he absolutely dominated #14 with three pars and a birdie. While difficult to reach in 2, a couple of smart shots at the front can set up an easy par or even a birdie opportunity at the back. Sadly, I couldn't find any smart shots, winding up too far right on my tee shots for any chance at making the green in regulation. Brett's birdie came in the final round after firing a drive down the left side, and striking a hybrid just in front of the right green side bunker. He pitched on in regulation and sank the putt for a smooth and easy bird.

Hole 15: The number 8 handicap hole on the course, I played this hole well with two pars - one of which should have been a birdie if not for yet another 'Phil' like moment of putting failure (3 footers for birdie need to fall). Interesting side note on this hole, as you approach the green there is a home with an awesome sun room (it almost looks like a restaurant). During rounds 2 through 4, each time we passed this house, we noticed the owner lounging out on the sofa with his feet in the air, watching his High Def TV. After a discussion, Brett and I decided we were living more of the dream because we were actually outside playing golf, but it was close. Well done, couch dwelling sir, well done.

Hole 16: This was easily my best driving hole on the day, as I crushed two of my longest drives here. Unfortuneately I only managed one par, as I could not find the green from 150 yards out (a theme with me lately). Brett also had some trouble with this hole, but in retrospect I don't recall him every really being in trouble (I believe he found the sand a couple of times). On our last trip around the course, we encountered an older couple who were just out taking shots at the green. They invited Brett into their home for a beer, but he wisely declined. We've all heard the stories of young men wandering into the homes of older people, only to be used as pagan sacrifices. It's a sad world in which live...

Hole 17: Another consistent failure for me, and a consistent winner for Brett. No matter how well I drove on 16, I wound up pulling the ball off to the right on 17 - and the tree placements all down the left blocked any shot at the green, thus leaving me with no choice but to punch out to the fairway. Of course, I never managed to punch out clean the first time, which meant I was laying 3 before I ever had a shot at the green. Brett however, managed to put his tee shot just in front of the fairway bunker every damn time. Despite the fact hole 17 was a short par 5 (488 yards) hitting the green under regulation was very difficult as hills and ridges protected the pin on both ends.

Hole 18: Hole 18 was a consistent winner for both of us, and had I not been so absolutely drained by the 4th round, I should have finished with no worse than a bogey. Brett and I both found GIRs in the first round (he sank his, I just missed mine), and both made one-putt pars in the second round. In fact, the second round marked the first time we really had to wait to hit our tee shots. We responded by absolutely pounding our drives to within 70 yards of the hole, causing those on the green to say "holy cow, those guys behind us are awesome, I feel shame for making them wait....oops, now I've gone and pee'd my pants."

Yay...I ended with a pee joke.

~Saps

Hi....Remember me?

I believe I said something about returning to finish the recap after a short break. Well, a month later, and I feel I'm ready to do some more recapping.

Actually that's not true at all. I really want to change the subject compeletly and recap the past weekend whcih included a 72 hole round at Swan Point, and a day spent boozing with Tiger woods at the AT&T National. Well, maybe not with Tiger - but he was there, and so were we - and with the amount of booze we took in, we could have played 9 holes with the guy and had no memory. So it's up to you to prove we didn't hang out with Tiger!

I promise I will one day return to recap all the hijinks from the Myrtle Beach 2009 experiance,

but for now you will just have to settle for the following video. A quick note on the man featured in the video. I rolled into Myrtle feeling strong and confident - my scoring average was down under 100 for the first time ever, and my index was under 20. After putting up a 113 and 116 on the first two days, I was more than dejected, I was distraught (see photo right). Thankfully, my playing parter on the first two days filled me with enough positivity and alcohol to get me though the rough times. Sheabone was the lone reason I didn't run sobbing into the woods, burrying my clubs so deep my failures would no longer see the light of day. Our typical conversation went something like:

Me: "I'm so sad right now."

Sheabone: "Beer Club?"

Me: "I'm so happy right now."

Of course, thanks to a soul crushing case of the snap-hooks, any happiness was always short lived - and while an average man would have said "to hell with your negativity Saps, you can deal with your issues on your own - stop crying like a baby!" My man Shea kept tossing over the coors lites and the positive vibes - and perhaps even more impressive was in between acting as my wet nurse, he was still able to put up shots like this:

PGA tour quality, my man!

~Saps

When last we left....

When last we left, our heroes had departed the Waffle House, traveling south towards Destiny. I took my first turn at the wheel and quickly earned my stripes by not killing us all on the back roads of South Carolina. A job well done. I was the bane of several cars and trucks along the way, but to hell with all of them, "I ain't in no hurry...." To be honest, this was one of the most enjoyable moments of the trip. The sun was shining, my belly was full of waffle house goodness, the kids were pounding beers in the back, and a line of cars was flashing their lights and flipping me off as I drove 30 mph in a 45 mph zone. Just try to pass me, you $%#@ers!!!

As we drove closer to Myrtle, we expected to see signs of the wild fires which crippled the area a few days before. We'd all seen some really terrible footage on the news, but there was no real evidence from the road. No Burned trees, no smoke, no haze....nothing. Interestingly, when we woke up the next morning, the haze was so thick we could barely see out of our condo, and the entire area smelled like a camp fire. It seemed for our journey down to Myrtle, good fortune was on our side.

We pulled into Myrtle somewhere in the early afternoon (time had already lost meaning), checked into Myrtlewood, listened to some erotic stories courtesy of the XM Playboy Channel, wandered around Maritn's Golf Superstore, then settled down by the pool to sip a few beers and wait for everyone else to trickle in. A few of us kicked around the idea of hitting the driving range, but that just seemed like too much effort. The sun was shining, and we had beers.

Ciarlo showed up a couple hours later, and after he relaxed for a few minutes, the two of us rolled over to the supermarket to pick up a few cases of beer. "what do you think....4 cases?" "yeah, that should last us a couple of days."

More like a couple of hours.

In Myrtle 2008, Brett scheduled a practice round for Wednesday. For Myrtle 2009 however, he felt this day would be better served as a travel day - allowi

ng people to trickle in on their own schedule. In effect, Wednesday was a practice round - just not for golf. Not only did we finish the 4 cases of booze, but when Lich showed up with a 5th case - we drank that sum'bitch too. Things started out nice and easy. We cleaned up, ordered pizza, and sipped down some booze. Brett presented Moden with the championship trophy, engraved to preserve his back to back championships for all eternity. Moden treated this award with quiet dignity. . . before filling it with beer, exclaiming the cup was as wide as our mom's va-jay-jay.

Around this point the night took a turn. Brett, Ciarlo and Bos disappeared (presumably to gain a competitive edge by stealing a couple extra hours of sleep). Moden was attempting to lead a charge to Broadway @ the Beach. Sheabone and Troy were just up to no good. The rest of us decided to play a game of speed quarters, and after some debate on the actual rules, played a few rounds. About a half hour into the game, the decision was made (passive voice used because I can't remember who belongs to this dumb ass idea) to place a half shot of Seagrams Seven in the middle of the circle. From here on, the penalty was no longer taking a sip of beer, but rather a half shot of whiskey. Barsczc was the early recipient of the whiskey, as the coins just weren't bouncing his way. I then made the classic blunder of leaving a drinking game to call home. I talked with my girlfriend for a few minutes, and returned to face whatever penalty was coming to me. I took a couple of penalty shots with a cocky attitude, saying "yeah, whatever, you still can't see me!" Well, that's the thing about quarters - One minute you're 10 for 10, but a few bad bounces and things can reverse quickly. After the 4th consecutive loss, the assorted shots started to take their toll. While I felt coherent enough, my motor skills were certainly on the decline. I may have started out the game with a shooting percentage around .900, but I finished up around .200. Not only that, but Barsczc made the comment "look at Saps...he can't even talk!" From that moment, every time I opened my mouth, I heard Barszcz laughing.

Me: Youguys don'teven....youdon't......

Barsczc: HA!

Me: Dammit!!!!!

I took a few mins to walk outside and collect myself. Once outside, away from the chaos, I had a chance to really focus on things. . . and I noticed that the time was well past midnight, and not only could you hear us yelling at each other, but the sound of coins bouncing could be heard throughout the complex. I was shocked that 1) no one had complained and 2) no one had called the cops. We were literally yelling as loud as we could, with the doors and the windows wide open! I do not think we were the condo favorites.

I walked back into the condo to the sound of roaring laughter. The game had ended, and Barsczc was no more. In his place stood an inquisitive ape eating a banana. I made yet another mistake by venturing too close in an attempt to take a picture. Never approach an animal while feeding! The ape must have felt threatened, because within a matter of seconds he charged at me. I urinated myself out of fear, and then tried to flee - but it was too late. The ape was on top of me faster than Lich on a sailor. My only thought - will I recover in time to play tomorrow....

More Shenanigans to follow - Round 1 & Night 1 next!!

~Saps

Excuses

Fact:  Myrtle ended 2 weeks ago, and there have been no updates recapping the events.

Myth:  I've been too lazy to update the blog with the recaps.

Reality:  I've been a little preoccupied:  

Events since we returned from Myrtle Sunday Night / Monday Morning along with impacts to Mental Health & Stress Levels (MH), Physical Health (PH) and Nutritional Health (NH).  Please note all of these impacts are IN ADDITION to the already dangerously high numbers from Myrtle Beach.

• Woke up at 6:30am for work on Monday Morning giving me right around 4.5 hours of sleep on the night:  -10 MF, -10 PH
  
• Tuesday & Thursday:  Late afternoon meetings with VP plus 2 Directors lasting until 8PM:  -10 MH
  
• Wednesday - Cinco De Mayo = Drinks and Chili Dogs at the Vienna Inn w/ coworkers.  -50 NH
  
• Tuesday - Thursday - constructed high priority briefing pulling data from multiple sources (primarily my a$$).  Diet consisted of Coffee and the occasional sandwich with a side order of more coffee: -10 MH, -50 NH
  
• Thursday night - I do 3 pull ups: +1 PH
  
• Friday Morning - Blew off work and drove to Baltimore to pick up Doyle from the airport on Route to Atlantic City.  Before we picked up Doyle we hit up the Blue Moon Cafe (as featured in Food Networks' Diner's Drive-Ins & Dives ).  I eat the Hobo Scramble which consists of Eggs, Hashbrowns, Cheese, Green Peppers, Onions, Chorizo Sausage and served with a buttermilk biscuit.  I eat the whole thing and wash it down with 2 cups of coffee.  -50 NH, +50 MH
  
• Pick Doyle up from the airport and then RETURN to Baltimore in order to eat at another dive featured on the Food Network.  We head to Mother's Federal Hill Grille for the "Heart attack on a plate " - 8oz burger with bacon and cheese, beer battered and then deep fried.  -200 NH, +50 MH
• As we continue north to Atlantic City, the following conversation takes place:

Doyle:  How much longer
Me:  Not too much longer, maybe an hour and a half.  We're almost out of Maryland
Doyle: Yeah, but we still have to go through Delaware
Me: Delaware is nothing, we'll be out of there in 10 mins

As we approach the toll plaza, my buddy doesn't notice the woman in front slowing down.  He slams on the breaks, but we are too close - collision is eminent.  I was in the passenger seat with my shin resting on the dash (my seat was way up as to give a little more room to the guys in the back).  At impact, my shin was slammed against the dash, leaving a huge swollen bruise which still hurts to the touch.  My sombraro, which was resting atop the dash, was pulverized to confetti as the air bags deployed.  Thankfully, these were the only significant injuries.  -100 PH, -500 MH

• Delaware State Trooper piles the 4 of us (Me, Jody, Doyle, Hollandsworth) into the back of his cruiser along with all of our luggage. He drops us off at a Howard Johnson where we call enterprise to come "Pick our a$$es up."  3 hours later, we exit Delaware.  +10 MH
• Doyle spends the rest of the weekend sarcastically saying "10 mins in Delaware, eh?":  -50 MH
• Spend the next 12 hours drinking and gambling.  Eat "dinner" around 5AM.  Walk back to the Tropicana along the boardwalk as the sun is rising.  -50 NH, -50 PH, +50 MH
• Eat "breakfast" at Hooters.  Grilled Cheese w/ Bacon and Cheese Fries.  1st beer is consumed at 11am.  -50 NH, +50 MH
• Quick Summary of Events in AC:
• Beer is used to get over our hangover:   -10 NH
• For lunch we decide to eat something healthy, so we order a daiquiri: -15 NH
• I try to eat a healthy dinner and order grilled fish. It tastes good. +10 NH
• We ask the bartender "what shot would you recommend for 5 guys who are recovering from a hangover, and just starting to feel better. She replies "Jameson." We settle for Jager-Bombs, which are actaully cups of Jager with a splash of Red Bull. -50 NH, +50 MH
• $9 40oz of Bud-Lite. I drink 3 and for the first time all day feel like I'm ready to party. -100 NH, +100 MH
• We find out the bartenders are only 18 and one is still in High School. The Adam Good Sports Bar (@ The Trop) offers $20 Body Shots. We pay $40 to see the bartenders take shots off each other. We feel dirty. +100 MH
• We hit the BYOB strip club. My buddy Brian buys a case of Bud Lite "tall boys." We ask him why he bought tall boys. He responds "why not." We drink most them, and what we don't finish, we take across the street to Baliey's Wild West Casino. -100 NH
• I spend 4 hours sleeping on the floor of the Hotel: -50 MH, -100 PH
• We checked out of the Hotel and rolled back to Delaware in order to return the rental car by 1PM. We cut it close: -50 MH
• We learn the rental car place closes at 2PM and not 1PM: -50 MH
• We spend an hour waiting for the guys at enterprise to check us in, and give us a ride to AVIS, where we will rent another car: -50 MH
• We realize we've almost spent as much time in Delaware as we did in our hotel room: -100 MH
• I get home, shower, then head straight over to my parents' for Mother's Day dinner. I am tired. -100 PH, -50 MH
• I wake up at 6:30 for work knowing I have to finish the briefing. -50 MH, -50 PH
• The so called "high priority" briefing is sent out. No one responds. I become frustrated and decide if it's no longer such a high priority, I'm going to blow off work and play in a golf tournament on Tuesday. +100 MH
• I leave work and head to the range. The sky is dark. I try to make it to the range before the rain. I pull up just as they skies open up. I utter a word I vowed never again to repeat. "Fail." -150 MH
• I fill in for my co-worker's son. He is a 4 handicap. The morning round is individual score, with a max per hole of double bogie. I shoot a net 96. I don't feel good about my chances. -10 PH, -50 MH
• I play well in the afternoon scramble. The snap hooks are all but gone (the slice showed up towards the end, but I believe that was just due to fatigue). I hit some monster drives and a few solid irons. We finish -10, not enough to win, but respectable. I feel like I want to play golf again! +500 MH
• Dinner is provided after the round. BBQ Pork and Fried Chicken. -100 NH
• I get home at 9PM, and fall asleep on my couch. I am full impact of the past 2 weeks seems to hit me all at once. -50 PH, -50 NH, -50 MH

I do all of this while STILL rocking a mustache! +1,000,000,000 EVERYTHING!!!

Excuses over - recaps to follow shortly....

Saps

Swing Thoughts by Steve Boswell

Myrtle 2009 Statistical Update

Myrtle 2009 comes to a close with Steve Boswell crowned the Champion. Below is a statistical recap of the Myrtle Beach Group.

• 5079 - Actual total score for the Myrtle Beach Group
  
• 4033 - Handicap score for the Myrtle Beach Group
• 105 - Average score for the Myrtle Beach Group
• 18 - Average Handicap for the Myrtle Beach Group
• 21 - Average Course Handicap for the Myrtle Beach Group
• 33 - Average gross score over par
  
• 12 - Average net score over par
• 1200 - Estimated beers consumed during Myrtle 2009
• 22 - Estimated beers consumed by Moden at Thistle
• 8 - Beer club's performed by Shea and Saps at Thistle
• 5 - Tall Captain and Sprites drank by Shea on the way to the RV in the morning
• 864 - Estimated times the term "Fail" was used
• 2 - Strippers hired as Caddie's
• 0 - Hot Strippers hired as Caddie's
• 4 - Sweet Mustache's
• 40 - Recorded score's of 10
• 1 - Poop in the RV
• 71 - Doug Barszcz front nine at Thistle
• 82 - Brett's total score at Thistle
• 302 - Boswell's Myrtle 2009 winning total
• 277 - PGA Tour's, Sean O'Hair's, winning score the same weekend
• 302 - PGA Tour's, Rich Beam's, last place score the same weekend
• 418 - Boswell's actual stroke (gross) total
• 332 - Myrtle 2009 low gross total (Brett Mikoy)
• 535 to 1 - Boswell's Odds to Win
• 215 - Total dollars won by the 2009 winner
• 320 - Total dollars won by the 2008 winner
• 661 - Total prize money for 2009
  
• 1 - Golfer that did not win money
• 1 - Winning Crazy Horse Team
• 1 - 2009 Champion - Steve Boswell
  

We are alive....

Though mentally and physically drained, we pulled the RV into Arlington Virginia shortly after midnight.  Thanks to some terrible weather (RV windshield wipers = Fail), a 45 min rest stop (grabbing a quick bite from Subway = Fail), an overly cautious driver (driving the night shift with bad weather through Richmond = Fail), and frantically trying to find a  place to dump the septic (www.rvdumps.com = WIN), our return trip took more than 9 hours.  I made the executive decision not to shave my mustache at 6:30 this morning, and I believe this to be the best decision I've made in a week.  Everyone is so focused on my mustache they aren't looking at my blood shot red eyes or the dark circles surrounding them.  I bet if I'd worn my hot pink outfit they'd be throwing a promotion my way.  

I will collect the various pictures and videos throughout the day, and post a more detailed account tonight.  Stay tuned for more shenanigans and hijinks.  

~Saps

Chili Cheese Hashbrowns + RV = Bad Times

After leaving the wafflehouse, all eyes were on me to see whether or not I would break the RV code and pull a 'two-sie.'

Well, I did not violate the code of the RV, but I am being brought up charges by the UN for bio-chemical war crimes. The Chili Cheese hashbrowns mixed with the already volatile contents of my stomach and have been producing a steady of noxious gas so vile even I have been reduced to gaging. It's bad. Very Very Very Very Bad.

Bad.

In non gas related updates, the first-ever "RV Beer Club" was called to order sometime around 1PM. Sadly I could not participate as I was driving the RV at the time, but I believe Brett managed more beer on the floor of the RV than in his belly (can you name the GnR tune in the background).

My beard is no more. I will post pictures later, but people say I look like one of the 3 musketeers. I'm guess it's more "Cubby" than "Annette" (look it up).

I'm going to keep this update short, since CT and Bos just arrived. Everyone is now here, and the party is about to get going. Well, it's about to get going for them - we've been partying for the past 2 days. Those dudes need to catch up!

Good Morning Campers

After a night of not so blissful slumber, we awoke to the sounds of nature. Specifically, the sounds of Sheabone wandering though the camp ground looking for berries, picnic baskets, and captain morgan. Brett thought he was entitled to more sleep than the rest of us just because he drove all night. I disagreed with his logic, and felt the need to wake him up:

After packing up the tent we piled into the RV, slightly hungover, very tired, but ready to continue our journey. But before we could press on, we needed breakfast. We really just wanted a cup of coffee and maybe a muffin. We got the wafflehouse. Winners = us!

Actually, I should qualify that statement. It is entirely possible we could all be losers after the wafflehouse visit. Double order of hashbrowns covered (cheese) and topped (chili) - what could possibly go wrong!?! Well, we're only 5 miles down the road, but already there is some rumblings from the citizens of Bowel-Town. The one who stands to lose the most is Moden, since he's sitting directly behind me and currently driving the RV - which means he has nowhere to run. I may owe him a beer when all is said. Still, we continue our journey forward - with strength and intestinal fortitude (I hope). I have next shift at the wheel. We'll see if I can stay composed with the chili cheese goodness running amok downtown.

Trouble Ahead?

~Saps

Update

Yeah.....no words. Just sounds

KOA arrival. . . Myrtle is begin

RV departure - 8PM. KOA arrival - 12AM. Winners - Brett, Sheabone, Moden, Nasar, Saps.

Well, maybe not so much Brett since he drove the whole way here, but the rest of us are well ahead of the pack. Let's face it, the RV was the way to go, and anyone who didn't hitch a ride on the fame trian is just a loser. There, I said it - history will stand on my side on this one.
Here are a couple of quick hits from the journey thus far (as I type, Moden is 'pitching a tent.' Take that however you want).

• Brett is a good RV driver - until you have to use the toilet. Thats when he starts to swerve all over road. Until an hour ago, I believed this to be a coincidce. However after my urine spilled over the toilet bowl onto my exposed toes for the 4th time I feel there may be some malice involved.


• I may have the most bad ass and sissy iPod in existance - it all depends on how you view the world. I feel Michael MacDonald and Christopher Cross are the pinnacle of modern metal. You may not agree. I think you suck.


• Iron Maiden is the straight goodness, and if you don't know, now you do.>

Dave's Mustache at 2 weeks is better than mine at 2 months. Dammit.

Traffic does not suck in an RV, especially if you have 2 coolers full of beers (state troopers, please note we did not drink any alcohol along the way. I most certainly did not drink ten boozers. Anyone who says otherwise is a dirty liar).

Modens Momz is a dirty whore.

Twizzlers and Beef Jerky do not a dinner make.

Dave and I perform a kick ass air guitar rendition of "November Rain." It rule almost as hard as Axel and Slash, though we're in an RV and, last I hear, Axel was in a trailer park. We win...again.

So with that, I bid you all a good night. I am going to drink a few more boozer, and have a few more bi-curious moments. Don't judge me. You ain't here. You don't understand.

~Saps

Caution...

Objects in mirror may be sexier than they appear

Myrtle Fortnight

'Twas the fortnight before Myrtle, with clubs in the car

Golfers were sober, with high hopes of par;

The irons sat idle in trunks dark and cold,

In hopes that their owners would not fold;

The players were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of birdies danced in their heads;

And Myrtle with her courses, and greens keepers in caps,

Had settled down for a long two weeks nap.

When out in the lot there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new chance to win,

Myrtle 09 was about to begin.

When, what to my wondering eyes was going to be,

But a 24 foot, 6 person, rolling RV,

With two beds, a pooper, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment each passenger was a d__k.

More rapid than airplanes her passengers in delight,

She rumbled and rolled on Tuesday night.

"Now, KOA, Border Store, and Broadway on the Beach!

On Myrtlewood, Crazy Horse, & Derriere's!

To River Hills! to Long Bay Club! to Thistle! to Legends!

Now slice! hook! miss a putt!"

As greens that before the were aerated and slow,

When met with our group , they want us to go,

So out to the RV and down ninety five,

With it full of clubs, and hopes to stay alive,

And then, in a twinkling, the group started to drink

Knowing in days their game was bound to stink.

The golfers were ready fresh with desire,

with Sheabone searching the Derriere's caddie's for hire;

A bundle of 1's he strapped to his back,

he looked through the establishment, seeking the largest rack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! He resembled the Fonz!

Finally he landed, the great Modenz Momz!

A wink of his eye and and no look of dread,

Soon he would get grade A perfect head.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his drawers,

A chuckle she would bellow begging for more.

Myrtle 09 began with a bang,

Beer club kicked off the rest of the gang.

72 holes and a tournament winner,

Hot Dogs for lunch and Hooters for dinner.

Soon after the week began to start,

The RV departed with smells of a fart.

Swing Thoughts by Steve Boswell

Water ... water ... don't hit it in the water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water ... water

Taking Liberties

You're not that good. I don't care if you tell me you're a 3 or a 23, I really don't believe you. If you wonder why that is, go look at the title of this blog post. Have you ever been 30 feet away and hit a nice putt up to 4 feet, then walked up and just tapped the ball into the cup in a non chalant manner? We all have. But whether you made that putt or not, you gave it to yourself; and that my friends is taking a liberty.

Why do we take these liberties? Is it because we're afraid of shooting a 94 versus 93? Let's face it, aside from a select few of us, no one is regularly threatening the 70s, so why do it? Here's another liberty. You hit a drive into the rough, get there and the rough sucks, so you give yourself a decent lie. You still have a slim chance at hitting the green, so why do it? Would you have felt better at the end of the round knowing you played all balls where they lied (even those across your nose)? I don't know.

That's the real beauty of taking a liberty; it's not cheating. We're not pros. We're not competing at any level other than who can drink the most beers. So there is no level of moral ground to worry about. That is...until you flash your handicap to someone. "Hey, I'm an 8 handicap".

Then you go to the course and see more liberties being taken than the Taliban takes from its women. So what do you do? The guy is one of your friends' co-workers and is generally a good guy. Do you call him out on that 3 foot putt that may have cost you a 50 cent skin? Do you make him return to the tee instead of hitting 3 from 75 yards further than where his drive went OB? Do you enforce the lateral hazard rule? Who knows what the lateral hazard rule is? What other hazard rule is there? When having crab cakes, is 2 enough? Is 3 too many?

The answer to these questions is no. No one wants to play with "The Enforcer". No want wants to be told that rule 8.1a states that a man whose tee shot does not pass the ladies tee must play the entire hole pantless...that is of course, unless that rule has been specified before the round.

There is no one among us who does not take liberties. From the tap in (6 inches to 5 feet) to the "winter rules" movement of a lie in the rough, to a favorable drop on the right side of the pond, or a "one in, two out" where you just take the distance. No one among us is casting any stones. We all live in glass houses. None of us are with out sin...

So, if you're ever in question about anything golf related, just remember the immortal words of my brother and know:
"Golf is a game of etiquette and integrity...ASSHOLE"

Swing Thoughts by Steve Boswell

I often wonder if Sheabone realizes white socks and black shoes are not a match.

Swing Thoughts by Steve Boswell

Should I show my fruit basket?

Snatching Failure from the jaws of Greatness...yet again

I'm still working on the "new swing" and while I am starting to feel more natural, I'm still struggling with consistancies.  I played 2 rounds over the weekend - Saturday out at South Riding Golfer's Club and Sunday at Army Navy Country Club (Fairfax Course).  While shot the same 99 on each course, I went about it in two very different ways.  

On Saturday I was all over the place.  3 Pars, 7 Bogies, 5 Double's, 2 Triple's, and a dreaded snowman.  I was on, then I was off.  I came back, only to lose it on the next hole.  My splits of 49 / 50 pretty much tell the story.  

Sunday was a different story.  I spent the morning reviewing some videos, both of my swing and several professionals (mainly just Tiger), and I found a couple of things to work on at the range before we teed off.  The video footage revealed a stiffness in my leg (thank you very much), and after working my swing at the range, I felt confident approaching the tee box.  The range worked paid off as I drove my 4-iron 230-yards to the center of the fairway.  I managed only one double bogie on the front nine, along with 2 Pars, and 6 bogies for a 44 - easily the most consistant 9 holes I've played.  I felt GREAT going off the 10th tee box, and eventhough my drive had a slight fade, I still managed to par the hole.  Then, on the 11th tee, I found the full on slice.  After crushing drive after drive down the middle of the fairway, I completely lost it.  Not only that, but I completely lost all touch and feel around the green.  The result was a far cry from my 44 on the front nine - 1 par, 2 bogies, 3 triple's and a snowman for the 55.  Attempt to break 90 - FAIL.

Swing Thoughts by Steve Boswell

Why does Lich suspend his club 4 inches above the ball at address?

Changing your swing

Easily the most frustrating aspect of playing "hacker" golf is inconsistency.  Sure, you'll stick your second shot six feet from the pin from 180 yards out, but then faced with the same shot on the next par 3, you hit it fat and put your tee shot 78 yards into the water.  You'll hit three picture perfect drives in a row, but then shank one and never see the fairway again.  Or maybe you'll spray the ball all over the first 16 holes only to par the final two - leaving yourself with the maddening thought "if I could have just played like this all day, I'd have shot an 88 rather than the 108!"

After inconsistencies such as these lead to several altercations between my clubs and the ground, I finally broke down and went to a swing coach - hoping to preserve my clubs and my sanity.   For those who have never been, swing doctors come in a variety of flavors.  Some want to break you down and build a swing from scratch, some will bring you around slowly while eliminating flaws, and some will merely sit there like Chubbs from "Happy Gilmore."  My hesitation for seeing a coach was that I'd be stuck with someone wanting to break my swing, and rebuild it from the ground up - thereby effectively taking me out of action for a year.  I'd heard mixed responses from friends who'd been to a swing swami, and while two of these guys swore their undying allegiance to their coach, another friend just swore a blue streak about his.  This guy's  experience (name rhymes with "Hos-fell") was exactly what I'd feared - He broke down the swing and tried building it from the ground up.  The result was 4 terrible rounds of golf during the '07 Myrtle Tournament.  His accounts, coupled with my preconceived opinions and fears, silenced any thoughts I had about seeing a swing coach that year.

A year later I was playing in a tournament for work - captian's choice / scramble format.  My job was to hit the ball as far as possible off the tee, and then maybe pitch in a couple of shots here and there.  Two of my playing partners, my step-dad and his buddy, were both shaking their heads at me all day.  I hit a couple of BIG drives (in the 300 yard territory), but spent a good portion of the day frustrated with the ever-present inconsistencies.  

They asked, "Why don't you want to get a lesson?"

"I can figure it out on my own," I replied.

"You should really see our guy, you'd really benefit."

"I know what I'm doing wrong, I just need to play more golf so I can iron out my swing."

"How long have you been playing?  You don't seem to have ironed it out yet...what makes you think you'll iron it out in the next decade?"

"Uhm.....hmmmm......."

"Wouldn't it feel good to hit those good shots everytime?"

"Uhm......yeah...I guess....I just don't want to have this guy break my swing, and then suck."

"Newsflash....you already suck."

"Uhm...."  (no comeback for that one)

...and there it was - my "ah-hah" moment - the moment when you check your ego at the door and become open to learning.  The simple truth was I consistently put up triple digit scores, and while there were certainly flashes of potential, the ever-prevalent inconsistencies prohibited me from having any chance of breaking into the 80s.  At this point I was ready and willing to have my swing broken; I was ready to suck - just so long as I'd get better in the end.  Well, here's the kicker - The swing doctor recommended to me by my step-dad and his buddy was the same guy who "broke" my friend's swing and reduced him to an angry / bitter man in Myrtle.  Not only that, but he was the same guy used by another buddy and fellow golf blogger, Brett.  How could the same guy produce such drastic results and opinions?

There are a couple of reasons.  Number one is that golf, like life, is all about perceptions.  Glass half empty; "that guy broke my swing."  Glass half full; "my swing is being corrected."  As a 20 handicap hacker, my game has more flaws then an Oliver Stone conspiricy - and while there is certainly a lot 'right' with my swing, the bad habits I'd formed over the years contributed directly to the inconsistencies and errant shots.  The second reason is not every coaching style is a good fit for the student.  Instructor X might really connect with Golfer A, but completely miss with Golfer B.  Of course, even with a 'glass half full' attitude, changing your swing is the MOST frustrating thing in golf.  It's one thing to know you have bad habits - but it's another to be cognizant of them.  It's like burning your hand on the oven- I know the oven is hot...I know I need an oven mitt...why the HELL did I just reach my hand in there.  This frustration is made even worse by the fact good shots aren't just 'better than before,' they're damn near perfect.  My swing can feel so smooth and effortless I find myself thinking "Holy $#&#...did I just do that?!?!"

At the end of the day, I suppose you just need to fight through the frustrations with the understanding things are going to get better.  It turns out there is more to golf than showing up to the course 15 mins before tee time, drinking eight beers, and cursing.  Tinkering with your swing only works if you put in the effort - beyond just extra range time, you really need to focus on every shot.  What went right; what went wrong; what did my man say do work on; what do I need to work on next.  With that said, it's always important to remember balance, and one should never let working on your game interfere with having a good time.  A wise man once said "don't think of it as work - the whole point is to enjoy yourself."  Sage advice indeed - and I for one, would listen.  After all, he was pre-law.  

~Saps

Swing Thoughts by Steve Boswell

Sometimes, when I stand over the ball and look down the fairway, I think to myself...

"Man! I'm really going to slice this drive."

Swing Thoughts by Steve Boswell

Why do I hold 5 clubs in my hand?

One shot away...

Every round, every week, year after year we're one shot from par, breaking 80, 90, 100, etc.  We've been there, lived it, and walk away knowing we were one shot away.

The day begins with a goal to win the British Open, break a golf barrier, or maybe without a thought.  Coffee, Advil, egg sandwich, two trips to the commode, and we're on our way.  One day we arrive early to warm up on the range, chip, putt, and spare a few minutes for toe touches.  The next we're running to the 1st tee with shoes in hand.  The result is equal.

Each round is unique but all the same.  Shot after shot we maneuver through the course.  Fairway ... green ... two putt, par.  Hook ... miraculous punch around one tree rising above the next, par.  Lost ball bogey.  30 footer to save par, bogey, or double.

Melt down after a birdie.  Recovery after a blow up.  In the end that last putt falls and our score is final.  73 ... 80 ... 90.  Once again we miss that elusive number.  How?  Why?  We shot great but just missed.  Nothing fell but a 79 lurked.

That one shot occurs on 18 when our friends inform us a triple bogey breaks 90.  The snap hook setting off a two penalty stroke hole resulting in a quad.  The duffed chip, missed two foot putt, or second sand shot.  It's often that shot tracking to the pin with a beautiful draw landing a foot short plunging into the greenside bunker.

We remember the great drive, 5 iron to a foot, and that one shot which kept us from glory.

The best-laid plans of mice and men...

...so the saying goes.

The Saturday plan was simple - a morning round of polar bear golf followed by an afternoon nap and the consumption of an extra-large meat lovers pizza. I was even going to spend some quality time catching up with my xbox. A simple plan - easy enough to achieve.

Wanting to wake up fresh for the early morning round, I opted to stay in Friday night. "I'll just have a couple of beers and play some Gears of War," I thought to myself. Well, a couple of beers turned into 6 or 7 as the Gears of War play went into the wee hours of the night. Breckenridge Brewery's 471 is a strong and hoppy beer - delicious, but it packs a bit of a wollop. I woke up at 7am with my clothes still on and my bedroom TV blaring. Confused, I frantically attempted to make sense of the situation. "What time is it? Do I have to go to work today? Why am I awake so early? Why does my head hurt? Why was I watching cartoons before I passed out?"

Slowly, I gathered my thoughts and composed myself to the point where I could get ready for golf. After adding several layers of clothing, and making repeated trips to the lavatory ( hoppy beer evacuation procedure in effect), I departed for Bos's pad, where it turns out his Friday evening plans took an unsuspected turn as well. Bos wasn't just hungover when I got to his place, he was still drunk (making my decision to jump in the car with him all the more wise) . It turns out after eating his dinner and opening a fresh brew, Bos settled into his couch and prepared for a quiet evening. He then recieved a text message from Brett calling him to Whitlows, and the quiet evening was dead before it ever really started. The two of them sat at Whitlows and drank Sierra Nevadas like it was their job - adding a couple of tequila shots to the mix.

Weaving in and out of traffic like Ricky Bobby at Talledaga, Bos tried his best to make me ill. My reslove was strong and despite a couple of dicey moments, no cookies were tossed. As we stepped out of the car at Old Hickory Golf Cub the temerature was a balmy 35 degrees. Polar Bear Golf in action. Bos threw the entire contents of his trunk into his golf bag while contiunig to talk drunken nonsense. "I think they are calling for rain," he slured as he pulled an umbrella from his car, "Yellow bunny, banana runs the eskimo balloon pants." At this point I decided Bos had not over-exaggerated the number of beers consumed. We met up with Brett (wearing his ski-pants) at the practice range, and while Bos appeared still drunk, Brett was in full hangover. "I threw up last night," he revealed painfully. "I had to dig the chunks out of the sink with my fingers." Yucky.

This is the second weekend of polar bear golf, and I'm becoming a fan. If you can get used to the cold (a pair of weather soft golf gloves are vital), polar bear golf is really worth the effort. We had the course completely to ourselves, so there was no worry about pace of play. If you want to hit 3 shots into the green for practice - go for it. If you want to tee up another ball because you topped your first shot 40 yards directly to the left - do it up. If you want to take 6 shots to hit out of the bunker - not only can you live that dream, but you don't even have to worry about offending anyone when you let fly a string of obscenities.

Of course you don't play golf in the winter to post record low scores, and this round was nothing to write home about. But a good time was had by all, and we even had some great Bos moments:
(leaving the practice range, before the round even starts) "I am going to suck today"
(after hitting his second bad drive despite out-driving Brett on his previous three) "I can't drive for $%#& today!"

Now, it is at this point in the story where our adventure takes a bit of a turn. With the girlfriend out of town for the weekend, my Saturday plan was similar to Friday - laying low, playing videogames and eating a goddamn pizza. We finished our round at 2PM, which was going to leave me plenty of time to order my pizza, eat half, nap, eat the other half, play videogames, then nap again - but then Brett threw a wrinkle into those plans. He decided to play a couple of more holes. Bos and I were both drained so we declined the additional holes, and instead opted to grab a beer while Brett finished up. We could have just gone into the clubhouse, grabed a couple of beers and watched golf - but then Brett mentioned seeing a Hooters on the way back to the highway. That was pretty much all she wrote.

To be fair, we were just going to grab a couple of beers while waiting for Brett to finish. Hooters of Woodbridge has some talent, and our lovely server managed to sweet talk us into a pitcher of Budwiser All American Ale. The beer was hardly anything special (very malty for an ale), but she was involved in a sales contest and being the good hearted guys we are, we wanted to help out.

We are also a bunch of suckers.

Brett showed up around 3:15 looking tired and disheveled. "I feel like crap. I'm so hot. Are any of you guys hot." He then looked up at the waitress, his eyes dejected and weak, "it's so hot in here. I'm so tired. We're going to need some curly fries...and another pitcher." 4 hours and several pitchers later, we pried ourselves from the seats and set sail for our next destination; the Paper Moon Gentleman's club (we can blame Sheabone for planting this mental seed). Somewhere along the way we lost Brett, who later called to say he was passing on the club - and to be honest he didn't miss out on much. Bos and I only stayed for a couple of beers (I didn't even break into my wad of singles), and much to my pleasure I was home in time to order my goddamn pizza. Of course, after eating half of the pizza I passed out on the couch (sometime around 10PM).

Good times, and a good cold weather warm up for Myrtle. 58 Days.

...and so it begins

First off, it's damn tough to come up with a good golf themed blog title. There are a ton of mediocre options out there, and we tried damn near all of them.

"Out of the Rough"

"3 strokes behind"

"Chasing the Leader"

"Fore / Skins"

As you can see, they all pretty much sucked (although I get a chuckle out of Fore / Skins). So if you don't like "Replacing Divots" you can just suck it. You'll get used to it, and after awhile you won't know how you lived without it. Say it to yourself a few times. Go ahead. I'll wait. Not bad, right?

You are currently locked into a blog devoted to the mirthful antics of a small cadre of drunken hackers. Of course, if you are reading this blog, the overwhelming odds are you already know us, and we sent you the link. Hell, we probably even bought you a beer in order to get you to read this far.

If, by some amazing stroke of luck, you have no idea of what you stumbled upon, let me give you a quick overview of what you've found. We, like many hack golfers, tear up the public links on the weekends. While our indicies (I'm assured that's the plural of 'index') range from respectable to humiliating, we all share in the belief that golf, above all other sports, is not scored in terms of strokes, but rather good times amongst close friends. That, and shotgunning beers while trying to impress the cart girl.

Ok, down to business. The countdown to RV departure stands at 60 days, and the question all of you need to ask is "what have done to prepare yourself?" How is your swing? How is your putting? How is your alcohol tolerance? Personally, I've been alternating between push ups, practice swings and jager shots since last year's Myrtle Beach Tournament ended, and I am still a long way from ready. Thats right kids; this year it's serious.

So, you might be asking, "gosh darn, we're doing all this work getting into playing shape, what are you guys doing for us?" Well, it's that kind of 'what are you doing for me' attitude that has this country in such a sorry state. Still, we (the brain trust) are here to give - and give we shall. There is a ton of stuff in the works - web pages, golfer bio's, course guides, vegas odds, mom jokes aplenty - it's all in the works! We're taking the Myrtle Beach Tournament to another level this year, son!

So dust off those clubs, work on that short game, and prepare for the event of the summer. Until our next post, here is a little video to pass the time. I only wish they still made commercials like this:




Here is one more for the bowling. I miss this stuff.





-Saps