the 36 chambers of...

the kid down the street and i couldn't get on the links, yesterday. We were despondent. We decided to pull the old double dip today. The gauntlet, 9 hours, 12,000 yards, 54 golf balls, 36-holes of golf—on each fork of Long Island...

first was the Links at Shirley. Shirley is best known for being the one time home of Lt Dan. My old boos and uncle in FLA.

the course was well groomed and difficult, to say the least. The sun was just beginning to heat itself up like a toaster oven. We were certainly toast.

We were rushed to start and things didn't go well for our hero. It never got much better either...

then came a the twilight round at Long Island National, a sprawling north shore course in one of the 'ogue's. The Kid's sister got married out there a year ago, and his stepfather hit some balls with us out there, so we were familiar. Surrounded by sod and corn farms, it played a little better than the Links, and even though it ate us up we got a screaming deal, met a nice kid named Brian, a sugar broker—he actually trades sugar on the commodities market, and we got a thrilling vista to boot...

but frustration got the best of me and the exhaustion took its toll on the Kid. As a quick aside, the Cat Mom has taken to calling him the mistress and i'm still very taken with the Cat Mom...

for the record, its the kid finally got me into golf, which i thank and hate him for. in my time of need he has been my benefactor for golf weekends and dinners as well as other intangibles. He can be testy, and terse, he is ultra competitive and has a Napoleon complex. He can also be a creative scorer from time to time. But he is my cousin, and we have had a bond for many years, he is like the third brother, the younger one i didn't get, and i appreciate his generosity beyond bounds....

let's also be clear about my golf game, now a little over a year old. It has regressed. As challenging as these two courses were, my game, while never stellar hasn't been right since early July. i've played my share of rounds and done my share of work at the driving range but i'm having real trouble getting my head out of the way. Golf is an excruciatingly masochistic activity. It attracts you in a flash, stealing your heart quicker than winking vixen at the end of a bar, and then proceeds to slowly bleed the lifeblood away from from its unwitting victims. i spent most of my day miss-hitting irons, slicing and shanking. There was a ton of three-putts and and plenty of self loathing. i've effectively lost the ability to make shots i made a mere month ago. i had said to Brian, during our round that this had been one of the worst days of my life. Brian, who was quite a good player and good-natured enough to deal with two shankapatomuses, commented, that it couldn't be that bad, we got to play golf twice today. Very wise...

three hours later i made a killer putt to finish the round—the only one-putt all day. That's the one i take home with me, the one that makes it all worth it...

that and the car fire on the way home...

bonus car fire. That's how things go in the 36 chambers...

Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang!...