The Shank

I hate to even type the word (let alone say it) but I have to after what happened to me today. I went to the golf course this morning to play in a two-man tourney at my club and God help me if I didn't shank my opening tee shot about 80 yards forwards and 40 yards to the right. Luckily my partner got it over the water on our par-3 starting hole and I was able to chip us close enough to make a par. The next hole, however, was a par-5 and was to be played alternate-shot. I hit a decent drive so my partner hit a 3-wood up within 125 yards of the green. And then, you guessed it, I shanked our third shot 80 yards forwards and 40 yards to the right. We went on to double-bogey that hole and the next hole, a long par-4 that I half-shanked a 7-iron just to the right of the green for our third shot. About to cry and about to walk off the golf course, we managed to steady the ship and play the next four alternate-shot holes in 1-over par and then somehow (and to this minute I still don't know how) I managed to play the next six holes of better ball in 1-under par. What a comeback, I must say. We managed little in the last five holes of scramble (even par, we were) and finished the tourney as a team at 1-over. Considering we were 5-over after the first four holes and I was fighting the shanks something fierce, I'd say we had a pretty good showing.