Mac O'Grady

Mac O'Grady was a professional golfer on the PGA Tour before I even cared or knew anything about the great game of golf. I guess he won a tournament or two in the 80's, a time when I was more concerned with trying to find just the right shirt to wear with my rail-thin piano key necktie than what was going on in the world of golf. Lately, however, Mr. O'Grady has been making some rather interesting news that I'm surprised hasn't gotten a lot more press coverage. Apparently he's semi-retired from the professional game now but as recently as earlier this decade he tried to enter golf tournaments twice, playing once as a right-hander and once as a left-hander. The story goes he's even petitioned the USGA to let him enter the US Amateur as a left-handed player since he played his entire professional life as a righty. No response from the suits in Far Hills, NJ. This fascinates me and I'm not sure why. Is it the metaphysical question of mind vs. body in regards to what makes a pro a pro? I'm not sure. I guess I'll have to keep thinkin' on it and get back to you all (or both of you, or nobody...)

The Guy Who Wet Himself On The Golf Course

You can't make this up, really. I went out by myself for a very late-season round of golf (early December in Minnesota, no less) and found myself hot on the heels of the group in front of me within a couple of holes. Upon catching up with them, they offered me a spot in their threesome and I agreed, thinking with this kind of cool temperature I didn't want to be out there any longer than I had to be. I noticed upon joining them, however, that one of the members of their party (we'll call him "Larry") was awkwardly shy about shaking my hand. Thinking he was possibly a recluse, I didn't press the matter and went about the process of "playing in" with these strangers. About a hole or so later I noticed that Larry seemed shy about even facing me, to the point where he seemed to turn his back every time I approached him. It was getting weird, I thought, and couldn't wait for the round to be over. At the 16th tee, however, I found myself to the right of the tee box when Larry approached to peg his ball. And lo and behold, there between his legs was the most obvious of wet spots, the kind that only comes from wetting oneself. Stunned, I played the last 3 holes in a daze and drove home silently wondering what would possess a man to wet himself in mid-December on a soon-to-be-closed golf course and not excuse himself for the remainder of the round?

I'm Blogging Again...

Still no action on the "other-people-reading-my-blog" front, but I will continue to persevere. Somebody, for instance, might want to know what a Foozled Golfer is--perhaps I'll just whet their appetites and save the answer for another day.
I read a lot of golf books these days. Actually, by last count I think I'd read something like 85 consecutive books about golf without reading a book about something else in between. Why would a stranger want to know this? I don't know but I felt like blogging and didn't have anything else in my head at typing time.
There was a line from one of those books that I particularly like. I don't remember the author's name but he was talking about overcoming your fears on the course and actually turning them into inspiration towards better play. It went something like this: "Can you see that brook that golfers fear, and not fearing but feeling can you put that motion into your swing?" Chew on that for a while (that is, if you're actually reading this).

Good God I did just blog! And I think I liked it! Now the only question that remains is why would someone other than me read my blog? I just read someone else's blog and it was easily one of the most boring things I've ever read. Who are these people that "blog" and why do they do it? I'll continue to search for the answers...stay tuned (if you're really lame and have nothing better to do).

What is this "blog" thing?

I'm blogging now...first-timer. I'm not even sure what this "blog" thing is, anyway, but I guess I'll find out. Foozled Golfer, eh? Yes, that's me--hopelessly and helplessly foozled by the game of golf. It torments me at night sometimes, makes it so I can't sleep. I write haikus about the game I love and have even been known to carry a picture of Fred Funk in my wallet to help me hit more drives down the middle of the fairway. I don't know--it seemed like a good idea at the time. My wife hates my golf (isn't that a Stooges album?) but I'll keep at it, I promise. If I don't do it, who will?
So did I just "blog"? I'm confused. I'll try again later.