Posted: Monday February 27, 2006 3:15PM; Updated: Monday February 27, 2006 3:15PM
After spending the last few weeks on the road, I was looking to take a little break this weekend. I'd been from New York to Washington to New York to L.A. to New York to Houston to New York, so a weekend on the couch sounded just about perfect.
And then I remembered that my sister was getting married. Not this weekend, actually, but there was some sort of pre-wedding party that Wifey and I were obligated to attend in Atlanta. So I booked plane tickets for that. Then Wifey got sick with a nasty cold/flu. She spent last week hacking around the apartment, and she asked me to stay in New York with her and nurse her back to health this weekend.
I was in the middle, required to be in two places at once. If I stayed in NYC, I'd make the wife happy, but I wouldn't have much to do otherwise. The Olympics were ending, the NBA was recovering from All-Star Weekend, and pitchers and catchers were trickling into camp. Plus, I completely screwed up my Netflix timing and would be without movies for the weekend.
It wasn't until Thursday that I made up my mind. I was at work, talking to my friend Dave in Atlanta, and I let him in on my dilemma. "Well," he said, "I'll be in Atlanta with nothing to do because my wife is out all weekend. Also, the weather's supposed to be really nice this weekend...."
He let it hang out there like a Barry Zito curveball, knowing full well I could put the clues together and solve this riddle: golf. Sorry, Wifey.
Since breaking 100 back in the fall, I've played golf a few times and managed to stay right around the century mark, shooting under it a few times and over it a few times. The worst thing I did was take one lesson, which is like going to a bar with your buddies and having just one drink: It leaves you in some strange place between nothing and everything, and that's just not a good place to be. That one lesson gave me a taste of the fundamentals, but more than anything it just left me all screwed up when I couldn't return and reinforce what I'd learned. One day I'll take a bunch of lessons, but for now I'm sticking with my own swing.
It was 9 a.m. on Sunday morning, the temperature was hovering around 40 degrees and an Arctic breeze was gusting up to 20 miles an hour. It rained all day on Saturday, so the North Fulton Golf Course was marsh-like.
As my friends Dave and Fitz and I stepped up to the first tee and handed our receipts to the starter -- he was bundled up in a heavy winter coat and gloves --he looked us up and down and said, "You guys are my heroes."