Par for the Course

The 2018 Golf season has officially begun, Tiger Woods is back in the field!

I know the 2017/2018 professional tour schedule technically began in October with the Safeway Open. But talk to any Golf aficionado and you will quickly see the “Tiger” effect on professional golf at Torrey Pines in San Diego.

Google queries for Tiger Woods, specifically “Did Tiger make the Cut,” (at the Farmers Insurance Open) is in the top 10 trending searches on Google.

The Golf Channel, golf promoters, golf courses, driving ranges, golf merchandise sales, and television ratings are way up. Attendance this weekend (Jan. 27 & 28th) at Torrey Pines will soar. Try it, do a Google search for Tiger Woods and see what turns up. Profits.

Yesterday, after months of procrastination, I got off my duff and made the trip to the Carlsbad Golf Center to have a new grip installed on my TaylorMade three wood.

While shopping I eves dropped on the conversations in the golf shop. And yes . . . it was all about Tiger Woods.

“You think Tiger will make the cut?”

“He looks pretty good, we’ll have to wait and see.”

“I will say this, since Tiger announced he would be playing again in 2018 our business has been up.”

Admittedly, I’m a fan of professional golf. My interest in golf was sparked one day unexpectedly when Lori said to me, “I used to love to play golf with my Dad growing up.” The radiant smile and twinkle in her eye said it all. To my utter astonishment, golf was something she truly enjoyed!

“So - let’s play some golf.”

For her 40 birthday, with the help of my friend Chuck, we purchased Lori a complete set of Lady La Jolla clubs. I happened to be working in New York that week so Chuck’s mission was to deliver the clubs and surprise her on her special day. Alas, it appears that company has gone by the way side. But she still enjoys playing her clubs. You should see her antique Wilson set we have in our garage.

Now, it’s important to understand, this idea of playing golf, I had never really played golf, didn’t own a set of clubs, and no clue how to get into this sport reasonably.

“Are you kidding me, look at the price of this stuff.”

My participation in sports has always been cycling, softball, running, swimming, and walking, for exercise. Golf, to me, was not a sport. Really, how can you consider golf exercise when you’re riding around in a cart, chasing a little white ball, then back to the clubhouse for a beer?

So, my next step was to get my own set of decent, reasonably priced clubs.

This Golf thing can’t be that difficult. I thought.

Lessons, hah, who needs lessons, look at Bubba Watson he never took lessons. He can drive the ball a mile. When you watch the professionals on TV they make it look so easy.

“The short game, that’s where it’s at. Very few can drive the ball like Bubba.”

It’s obviously all about style, look at Rickie Fowler.

Boy was I wrong. These guys are good.

So for a number of years Lori and I would treat (frustrate) ourselves and play golf together on the weekends. Lori as my coach, I quickly learned that swinging hard did not work.

Lori would step up to the tee and with a silky smooth stroke, straight down the fairway.

Me, I would step up and bust it - Pow! Out of bounds.

“Why does that stupid ball keep shanking to the right,” I grumbled.

“You’re hitting it off the toe of the club.”

“Ok, now it’s curving to the left.”

“You’re swinging the club like a baseball bat.”

“We need to spend some time at the driving range.”

“That’s boring, let’s just play the game.” So we did.

For practice, we play a Par three executive course, 1822 yards. Lori keeps score. Turns out I was able to shoot par within the first six holes.

“That’s good, right?”

“No - not really.”

“Ok, what’s Par?”

“This pitch-n-putt is a Par 54 course. That means a good golfer should be able to take 54 strokes to complete 18 holes. Three strokes per hole, not 10.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

We were consistently shooting 90 strokes or higher.

“Think geezer swing,” she would say. “That’s why you practice at the driving range.”

Yes, I’m stubborn.

Well, to make a long story short, as they say, Listen to the wife. She was right all along.

So this year we’re going to spend some time on the driving range. Practicing my swing and learning which iron to use for different distances.

“It’s muscle memory, repeating the same swing using a different club for distance.”

“Ok, I get it - let’s go to the driving range."

On Friday, Tiger did make the cut at Torrey Pines, Par 72, over 7600 yards, he shot -1, (one under par). How they do it I’m still trying to figure out.

I wonder? If I practice enough, could I shoot Par for the course?

What do you think?

We Need Awe More Than Ever

In this episode, Why We Need Awe More Than Ever Yesterday morning, I slipped into the cool stillness of my backyard before dawn. The air was crisp, the silence deep—broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the familiar calls of birds waking early. Then I looked up. A thin crescent moon hung low in the east, with Venus just above it like a shining jewel. The sky was clear and full of stars, and for a moment, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: Awe! For thousands of years, the heavens have carried on their steady dance, untouched by human noise. No ruler, no election, no breaking news has ever changed their rhythm. And yet here I was, tempted to reach for my phone—to trade the eternal for the urgent. Instead, I stayed. I watched the moonrise, the sky slowly lighten, and the world around me stir. Ducks passed overhead in a loose V, hummingbirds zipped past to visit their feeder, pausing mid-air as if curious about me sitting so still. Little by little, the static in my mind f...

The Silent Grid–Part Two

In this episode, The Silent Grid – Part Two Sirens split the night as Greenwood went dark. Marvin knew instantly—the blackout wasn’t an accident. It was a warning. In this quiet town, where life once unfolded at a predictable pace, a sleek, intuitive smartphone—a so-called gift from the future —has arrived. But it’s no tool for connection. It’s a silent force, erasing individuality and turning neighbors into something less than human. Marvin Gellborn, a man who values independence, sees the truth. His device isn’t helping; it’s testing him, watching him, and quietly embedding itself into the life of Greenwood. Welcome back to On the Fly . In this week’s episode of The Silent Grid , GridBot tightens its grip. After a hopeful community gathering, Marvin and his robot companion, Norman, notice a troubling absence—the very generation they hoped to reach has vanished into the neon glow of The Signal Box , a youth tech hub pulsing with digital obsession. When Greenwood’s lights vanish, Marvi...

The Birth of a Cubs Legend

In this episode, The 162-Game Exhale — and the Birth of a Cubs Legend There’s a hush in the baseball world on Game 162 — a collective breath drawn in and slowly released. Scoreboards stop flipping. Dugouts empty. For six months, the game has been our steady heartbeat, pulsing from the cherry blossoms of Tokyo in March to the crisp, playoff-charged winds of late September. And now, as the regular season exhales, baseball fans everywhere pause to absorb the story we’ve just lived. For me, that story has been deeply personal. This season unfolded in the rhythms of my daily life. It was the summer soundtrack echoing beneath the constant turmoil of politics and sensational headlines. It was a handful of carefully chosen ballpark pilgrimages stitched together with countless nights in front of MLB.TV. And at the center of it all, for a lifelong Cubs fan like me, it revolved around one name — a young center fielder who turned hope into history: Pete Crow-Armstrong. The 2025 season didn’t begin...

The Pessimism Aversion Trap

In this episode, The Pessimism Aversion Trap Picture this: a room full of bright minds nodding in agreement as a bold new strategy is unveiled. The slides are polished, the vision is grand, and the future, we're told, has never looked brighter. Everyone beams—because who wants to be the one to say, "Um… this might not work"? Heaven forbid someone spoil the mood with a dose of reality. Better to smile, add a buzzword or two, and march confidently toward disaster. That's how the Pessimism Aversion Trap works. Even now, I can still hear the sound—a high-pitched shriek and a digital hum, followed by the slow, rhythmic clatter of data pouring from a 5¼-inch floppy disk. It was the late 1980s, and my makeshift home office (our living room) was dominated by what felt like a marvel of modern engineering: a used Tandy 1000 PC with not one, but two floppy drives. To top it off, we purchased a 'blisteringly fast' 300-baud modem—which, for the uninitiated, could downloa...

On The Fly

Search This Blog