Dagenator blogs like a pro (wrestler)...
Finally, Lemur takes a week off! The TGA stalwarts who DID show up this week were Alice, Dagenator, Papa Hicks and the newly-christened 'Stiffy' (Carveth, making his first appearance of the season.)
The West Island Express got the suburbanites to the course with plenty of time for driving range and chipping/putting and as usual, Dagenator pulled up in the rear, applauding the last of their mighty and (somewhat wayward) swings. Stiffy did offer him a few balls but seeing as how his balls weren't exactly straight, Dagenator demurred, not wanting to catch anything.
But it was all for naught, as the first drive of the day saw Dagenator's tee shot sail high, and fading left, left, left… thud! Saved by the tree.
With Lemur away, the curse ratio dropped significantly – but that could be also a factor of some of the boys playing some very solid golf, and let's face it, Papa Hicks is way too much of a gentleman; Stiffy in particular was playing like a man who has spent the off-season actively forgetting all his bad habits, and not having had time to discover his new ones. Be patient, grasshopper; they'll be back.
Dagenator put in a solid front 5 until Alice's (evil bastard) swing thought caught up to him: "you know, that's a really good drive you got going – it'll work well until you start duck hooking them later on". After that, it was random drive time again, crowned by the 16th tee where the group watched his first 'drive' rifle forward 30 yards (well, partly forward) then carom backwards, over their heads, and into the forest behind the tee box. The image of Stiffy cringing on the ground, hands over his head, and asking for his Mommy can be credited for keeping Dagenator's curse count down and his spirits up.
Alice for his part lived up to his name, tripping over his mangina with disturbing regularity - this was very helpful for those others (other?) in the birdie competition (the only birdie being scored by Stiffy, on his namesake hole). And in the spirit of curse reduction, he was heard on several occasions to utter the dreaded and obscene "fudge, fudge" (wash that man's mouth out!). But still, even scoring a snowman on the cursed 9th hole, Alice managed a respectable 88, so he doesn't have much to complain about. And Papa Hicks shot an exceptional 98, breaking 100 for the first time this year; this is especially impressive considering he dropped two into the drink off the tee on the closing hole.
On to Victorien, young sirs!
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