It is an embarrassment how easily the third hole bent over for me. I started offline but slid right, right down the chute. Shamelessly finding myself way too close, within finishing distance. I slowed, as we all should in these situations. Becoming tentative, waiting, wishing, wanting to crescendo in that one perfect stroke that allows us all to erupt in euphoria. The pace simply perfect. We all knew what was happening an instant before. Centre cup, the first birdie. The one I agonised over for a year is now finally mine.
Fifty one on the front though. Complete collapse at every other stage. We stopped counting on the back of course. Vanity handicaps are still my desire. The first (worst) round is in the books. Escapades with the hybrid a rousing success, in that round I understood the jubilation of watching the first man on the moon, I myself became the first man to hit a green in my grouping. Neil may not be proud of me. I did not do this for mankind.
My 5 iron I have spoken so much of is now named Laura, she gives me grief all day, but at the last attempt she lets me in. Not fully of course, she still chooses the route, but we at least finally agree on the same destination. Relationships are a lot of negotiation and compromise. It will cost me significantly if I ever wish to trade in and upgrade on Laura though. Maybe I wait and see how she ages with me another year or two.
Lessons are sure to follow, both golf and life.
P.S shameful belly showing in the picture, sorry folks.