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I was playing the round of my life. It was the fourth ice bowl, in February here in northern Kentucky at Lincoln ridge park. Just my fifth tournament, and I had been playing less than a year, but I was throwing like I actually knew what I was doing. We started on hole 11, the first in a stretch of open holes before the course dives down a hill to follow a creek bed for a few holes. I hit my pars on the open holes, but I could feel myself getting loose. When we got down to the woods, I played very well. I birdied 3 of the 5 holes, parred the other two. I should emphasize that these are very difficult holes that rec players don’t par often.
Coming out into the semi-wooded holes, I struggled, doing +3 through 6 holes, but then we were heading back to hole 1. I birdied 1. I birdied 2… The birdie train continued through 3, 4, 5. A par on the very difficult hole 6, then a birdie on 7 and 8. I shot a disappointing par on a very birdieable hole 9, but I was high on life going into the last hole, and threw a fantastic drive.
Now let me tell you about hole ten. It runs about 320 feet along the side of a steep hill, and from the lower tee we played that day, it is a gentle annhyzer the entire length of the hole, with two trees in the middle of the fairway at the beginning, another midway down, one 30 feet short of the basket, and more surrounding the basket. I threw a great drive that set down right under the tree 30 feet from the basket.
As I approached my lie, I contemplated the possibility of another birdie to finish off a great round. I stepped up, and took a knee to get an angle under the branches. I took a shot at the basket, but was just low. I hit the basket and my putter tipped up on it’s side. I knew right away this turned bad. I remorse going for it as I walked the 25 feet down the hill to where my putter had finally stuck on a twig after a long roll. I decided to play it safe coming back up, taking an approach route to the right of the basket and sitting about five feet away. About the time I was taking a sigh of relief as I layed down my marker and picked up my putter, I went to make my putt… Only problem was, I didn’t make my five foot putt… It edged off the left side chains and… rolled all the way back down the hill. Worse than that, it was behind a tree. I made the best approach I could from behind the tree, but from 15 feet out again, I decided to sit down, take my 7, and hang my head all the way back to the shelter. The moral of the story: a great round isn’t a great round until you finish the last hole.
A side note: Credit to the other players on my card, as much as they were hassling me when I was playing well, they tried hard to console me after that last one.
Coming out into the semi-wooded holes, I struggled, doing +3 through 6 holes, but then we were heading back to hole 1. I birdied 1. I birdied 2… The birdie train continued through 3, 4, 5. A par on the very difficult hole 6, then a birdie on 7 and 8. I shot a disappointing par on a very birdieable hole 9, but I was high on life going into the last hole, and threw a fantastic drive.
Now let me tell you about hole ten. It runs about 320 feet along the side of a steep hill, and from the lower tee we played that day, it is a gentle annhyzer the entire length of the hole, with two trees in the middle of the fairway at the beginning, another midway down, one 30 feet short of the basket, and more surrounding the basket. I threw a great drive that set down right under the tree 30 feet from the basket.
As I approached my lie, I contemplated the possibility of another birdie to finish off a great round. I stepped up, and took a knee to get an angle under the branches. I took a shot at the basket, but was just low. I hit the basket and my putter tipped up on it’s side. I knew right away this turned bad. I remorse going for it as I walked the 25 feet down the hill to where my putter had finally stuck on a twig after a long roll. I decided to play it safe coming back up, taking an approach route to the right of the basket and sitting about five feet away. About the time I was taking a sigh of relief as I layed down my marker and picked up my putter, I went to make my putt… Only problem was, I didn’t make my five foot putt… It edged off the left side chains and… rolled all the way back down the hill. Worse than that, it was behind a tree. I made the best approach I could from behind the tree, but from 15 feet out again, I decided to sit down, take my 7, and hang my head all the way back to the shelter. The moral of the story: a great round isn’t a great round until you finish the last hole.
A side note: Credit to the other players on my card, as much as they were hassling me when I was playing well, they tried hard to console me after that last one.
