Duffers – The Masters of Pain

Posted on Posted in Tales From the Green Side

Never let it be said that duffers have no empathy for the elite golfers among us. We’re more kindred spirits than you might think. We both shoot in the low 70’s, only for us, that’s our score after 6 holes.

I mention our kinship as the dust settles on the 2016 Masters where Justin Spieth had what has been called “a meltdown for the ages” which is roughly equivalent to cutting the red wire after the bomb expert explicitly told you to cut the blue wire.

To set the scene for you, Mr. Spieth held a 5 stroke lead as he headed into the final nine holes of the tournament. This is that uppity prestigious tournament everybody seems to want to win if for no other reason than to see how they look in a Godawful ugly green blazer.

For good golfers, holding a five stroke lead with nine to play is akin to playing tackle football against toddlers. You can screw it up and still be OK. At least that was the thinking.

On the 12th hole of the Masters Jordan and his ball decided to take the scenic route. Watching him chase the ball across all sorts of terrain you had to wonder if maybe his game needed a GPS more than it did a 9 iron.

When the dust eventually settled (and there was a lot of dust) poor old Jordan had somehow managed a quadruple bogey which, roughly translated into Duffer language, is “about normal.”

The poor dude was devastated. He had just squandered away his chance at a second green jacket (try creating a fashionable ensemble from two of them, let alone one) and crawled into the clubhouse to sign his scorecard and present the championship to some British twit no one had ever heard of.

This may seem like a tragedy but really it’s all a matter of perspective. Rest assured Jordan that you aren’t the only golfer with a quadruple bogey championship story to tell. I too went through a similar circumstance. Thing is, in my story I was the one who shot the quadruple bogey on the final hole at my own version of the Masters. Only in this tale, my quad won the tourney. The doofus in second fired a 16 on the final hole (and, curiously, still completed his best round ever).

I didn’t win a green jacket but I’m ok with that. Green (and at least eight other colours) tend to make me look fat anyhow.

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