It was this very Monday on the 15th at Spyglass Hill - I had started the back nine with 5 straight pars - the round was going well.
On the 15th I pulled my approach into a very poor lie left of the green. The ball was half submerged under pine needles, leaves and dried chunks of mud. A tree sanctioned me with its' shade, but low branches meant that the high aerial route was not an option. Carefully I stalked through the lush cabbage of rough, noting the angular shoulder to the bunker and the severe slope on which the tightly cut pin was placed. Finding little promise on any front, I wandered back behind the ball to assess my chances. A pond beckoned delightedly behind the flag, the steeply angled slope inviting disaster.
What would Tiger or the Shark do? How could I avoid the threatening double or triple bogey? Then the option came to me - the lie could only promise bladed contact at best. If I attempted a skinnied chip with say a pitching wedge then where could I land it. A sparse hole in the rough, up near the bunker shoulder offered itself as an opportunity. The possibility was expanded - could I land the ball with enough momentum to skip through the remaining cabbage, yet emerge with almost no pace on the lightning putting surface. From there, surely the ball would slowly descibe a gentle arc some 8 ft forward and 25 ft sideways to the right - over there by the flag.
The plan was set - clearly visualised - a masterful recovery was indeed possible. Now it was all up to the execution and the luck of that 1st bounce.
The bladed edge struck true, nudginging the ball forward to its tiny target. The ball struck firmy against the bunker shoulder, popping ever so slightly upwards, but arrowing foward due to the lack of backspin. Brushing its way through the thick rough, momentum rapidly eroding, the ball emerged triumphantly onto the fine cut of the green. With exquisite slowness, the ball gathered pace down the slope, tracing its' gentle arc to a point some 3 inches from the pin to the growing wonder and applause of my playing partners.
THIS WAS MY ZEN MOMENT - I couldn't repeat that shot in a thousand attempts - I would give Tiger that many tries to get the ball that close.
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Nordom, cousin to Davros