Here comes the sun! The shadows slide slowly down my bedroom wall, across the giant Cassius Clay poster I have tacked up there. “I Am The Greatest!” So he says. Is he? It’s all about attitude, I suppose. And practice practice practice, never give up. Hmmph! Probably some natural talent too. God, I would hate to get hit in the face by one of his punches. Makes me quiver just to think about it. Alright, out of bed, let’s go. It’s early enough to sneak on to the seventh hole. Nobody will be out there for another couple hours. I can play a full 9 holes. Hunger rumbles my stomach but eating takes time, can’t miss this opportunity, just grab an apple. Let’s go. My clubs lean against the wall in the garage. Whoo! It’s a little nippy in here. Better go back for a sweatshirt. The green one with the hole in the left side where I caught it on that rusty iron rod in the backyard a couple of weeks ago. Ummm, soft and warm. Okay, enough, let’s go. I need some new clubs. Mom was nice to let me use hers. She doesn’t use them anyway. But they are kind of old and beat. Birds seem chipper this morning. Lots of bees on the clover. No one is up at the Taylor’s. Johnny might like to come, but if I wake him now he will want food first and then, well, it’s just best if I pass on all that. I’ll just scoot across their yard, saves going around the block. The golf course is two blocks away through vacant lots and an old swampy bunch of woods I like to explore. What’s that smell? Oh, yeah, the dead cat we found yesterday. Will I smell like that someday? Grandma didn’t smell like that at the funeral. Maybe that’s why we bury people. Keep the smell down. These clubs aren’t that heavy. But then it’s not a full set. Someday… Cross the ditch here and jump onto the fairway. No frogs. I’ll stop and check later. Fairway grass is pretty brown. Why don’t they water the fairways like they water the greens? Better eat this apple before I die of starvation. Teeth sink in and OUCH! What the heck! I have a loose tooth. Upper left, third from center. Can feel it with my tongue. It’s wiggling back and forth. With my finger the wiggliness is worse. Exploring boundaries is one of my hobbies. Mom says I break things but I’m just seeing how they’re made, how strong the materials and joints are. I like things and how they work. Someday I’ll build things, repair things. Dad’s face when I took the lawn mower apart and back together last Saturday. Priceless! Pushing the tooth back hurts more than pushing it forward… Wait, no, there’s just as much pain forward as back. Okay, relax, gotta keep priorities straight. The tooth isn’t going anywhere and I gotta get golfing. But I can sure feel it niggling at me for attention.
Alright, here’s the 8th hole tee, 234 yard par 4. Let’s see, the Titleist or the Wilson? I look the balls over. Both are scuffed but no cracks or gouges. Titleist looks good. I need a couple more balls. Only found two in the ninth hole ditch. Better try some others. Most balls I find are junk, but there are a few diamonds in the rough! Ha! That’s a good one! I’ll have to tell Doug. He’ll like that. I’ll be two up in our joke competition. I wonder what he’ll come up with… Let’s see, do I have any tees? Ah, here’s a nice yellow one. Ball in palm, fingers curl. Head of tee on ball between pointer and index fingers. Gently, firmly, slowly, sink the tee into the ground until fingers just touch ground. Perfect height. Love that feeling. Am I obsessive-compulsive, like I saw on that TV show last week? I count stairs too, and steps between cracks on sidewalks. And other things… Focus here!
Grab the driver. Inspect the face. Better get that mud off. That’s better. Couple of practice swings. Work on not slicing the ball. Keep my hands even with the ball when the club head makes contact. Hands in front of the ball gives the ball a clockwise spin so it curves to the right. I should learn to control that for curving fairways, but today let’s just hit the ball straight. Line up to the ball. Pull the club back… Wait! Tooth is wigglier now. Wish I had a mirror. Tongue waggles it back and forth like mad. Okay, let’s hit the golf ball. Center up, pull the club back and swing. Hmmm. Not too bad. Lofted straight down the fairway about 150 yards with barely just a tiny little bit of a slice. Maybe this tooth is good luck!
Sun’s getting higher. Cooler near the trees. I’ll walk over there. Tongue toggling tooth. Back and forth like a pendulum or a swing. Does this mean a trip to the dentist? That guy’s bad. Don’t want to go there. Maybe, if it happens to come out before I get home that trip won’t have to happen. Ah, here’s the ball. Which club this time? Maybe my favorite five iron. Not this time. Looks to be about 80 yards. Seven iron’s better. Tooth quiet for the moment. Better swing now. Dang! Got under it too much. Divot’s not too big. There, all put back. Still about 15 yards from the green and a little to the right. Club back in the bag. Bag on shoulder and walking and worrying this wearisome tooth. Pain not bad, just achy. And getting looser! Nine iron chip shot onto the green, tooth practically falling out. How in the world is it even connected to my jaw! Two putts and in. Bogey 5. Tooth hanging by a thread.
Ninth hole tee, 325 yard par 4. Tooth really achy. Pushing it hard. Hard to focus. Drive slices to the right and bounces over the rough grass between fairways. Why the tooth today? Haven’t I lost enough teeth? Can this please be the last one? Better ask Mom, she’ll know. Three iron this time. Straight shot, nice loft, bounces in front of the green then on the green and rolls off the back side about four feet. Not bad!! I’m sure I could grab the tooth and rip it out if I wanted to, but it might be bloody and well, that wouldn’t do. Dad did say they did that when he was a kid. Tie the tooth to a doorknob with a string, slam the door shut and out it comes. Kinda like ripping off a band-aid. Barbaric and painful. Keep it coming tongue. No doorknobs for us. Think I can get away with using the putter here. Grass is pretty short. Roughly 25 feet to the cup. Pretty flat. A little break to the right so aim a little to the left. Firm stroke, there it goes. Come on, come on! Yes! Three inches from the hole and it stops. So close. I’ll take it. Par 4. And there goes the tooth. It’s out! Not too bloody after all. Maybe it is a good luck charm.
Now I have a new problem: I’ve got seven holes left before breakfast and there’s a new hole in my mouth where the tooth used to be. Get to work tongue. Explore that sucker!
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Telling Stories, Sharing Memories Together