My 8 Iron: A Love Story

Given that I just finished writing a post discouraging people from viewing Michael Moore's new movie, I may as well title my post on today's golf experience with a spoof of Mike's project in lieu of a true love story. I shot my best round of the year today. It started with me walking into the pro shop wearing my Red Wings jersey, and the two young males on duty informed me that they don't serve Detroit fans. I said "I'm sorry" and I turned to leave, which elicited an "I was just kidding." This led to a humorous exchange of barbs that ended shortly after I recollected the emotion you feel when you see your favourite team win a championship. As Canucks fans, there was really nothing they could say. I did confess my concern however that my Wings have pulled a "Kid Icarus" and have flown too close to the sun the past few seasons. All this winning has put a lot of miles on their collective odometers.

But back to golf, I do have a small following of about 20 people who enjoy reading my golf stories...When I hit the course, right away my low irons were in a bad mood. I normally lean on my 3 iron and my 5 iron, but I couldn't hit a straight shot with either of them. I was struggling early, until I got to the 150 yard marker, and I could unleash my deadly weapons, my 8 iron and my pitching wedge. Because I have played so much “par 3” this summer, I have lost the ability to hit a low iron off of a tee. On one particular 400 yard hole, I was taking my 6th shot from 120 yards. I was walking up to the shot holding my 8 iron, quietly singing "Just the Two of Us" by Will Smith. Stuck my shot a few feet from the pin, one putt for a 7. On the front nine, I was feeling a strong affection for my 8 iron.

By the 6th hole, my 3 iron (which I treat as a "driving iron") was still not working at all. I put her to sleep for the rest of the day, and I made a new friend. My 4 iron. I took her out of my bag for the first time when I was 160 yards from the pin. Perfect shot, right on the "dance floor". I was in love. Then I started flirting with my "hybrid" which is half wood-half iron, Taylor Made “Rescue Club”. I soon discovered that my "transgendered" club could hit a ball 200 yards off the fairway. My putter had some bad experiences today, but also made some phenomenal shots. My 7 iron has been moody the past few weeks, but it my safe 130-150 yard club. My 8 iron was so spectacular that my 9 iron didn't touch the earth all day. I prefer an 80% 8 iron to a full 9 iron. I also dabbled with my driver, but she only had one nice shot all day. I finished with a season's best 112 on a par 72. There was one meltdown that I named “the Meltdown on Hamburger Hill” but I would rather not talk about it. There was also a sand trap that I swear had some form of magnetic attraction to my golf ball, but I got out in 3 for a one putt.

As an aside, if any Psych grad student out there is doing research into early onset "objectophelia", I would be curious to know your findings. Am I going to be here a year from now demanding that I have the right to enter into a civil union with my golf clubs? I think I am on record saying that I would not oppose people marrying farm animals, but I suppose if you do not appreciate hyperbole, you shouldn't be reading this...

See also

Storming the beaches of Burnaby Mountain

"Talk about a hole in one"