Despite Andrew's golfing inadequacies it has always been one of his goals to beat me in golf. You must understand that Andrew and I are quite competitive when it comes to sports. He is my best friend but that does not stop us from getting unnecessarily heated over small and insignificant competitions. Games for nintendo 64, home-run derby at the batting cage at cool springs, checkers, wiffle ball, one on one basketball games, and corn-hole have all been taken far too seriously by us.
The most notable and shame producing event has been 2 on 2 beach football. We always guard each other and in these matches I have been driven to spiking a football, storming off the field, and elbowing Andrew in the face after he had his wisdom teeth out.
So while I usually beat Andrew in Golf with ease, this day was much different. I was shanking the ball all over the place and bro was actually hitting the ball pretty good. Entering the last two holes, Andrew had a 5 shot lead. Insurmountable right? We both got 4's on the last hole, which left us with the 9th hole to determine the winner. I was already conceding in my mind that this would be the day when bro finally beat me and I was prepared mentally to accept this. But the 9th hole at Frosty presents problems to people who have a bad slice....
I stepped up to the tee box first and I was beginning my swing Dave cracked some joke and i duffed one off to the left. Because of poor etiquette I got a mulligan. I sliced one to the right where there is a set of train tracks then a vast abyss of rocks and wilderness which has stolen many of my golf balls. Surely this shot was to seal my fate. But by some stroke of Divine Providence my ball hit the side of the train track and shot back toward the fairway, bounced off the cart path, and landed right next to the fairway. A sign of things to come?
Bro was up next. He stepped up to his ball and said, "Bro, I am aiming way to left, I have to get this one into play." Aiming at the 1st hole green, bro proceeded to rip a huge slice over the track. It must have sliced at least 150 yards. "Frick," Bro blurted out. This was bad, but I still thought my deficit was too big to erase. Bro dropped and sliced another one over the tracks, "Frick!" Bro marches forward, drops again, and unbelievably rockets one over the tracks again. "Frick!!!" Now he is shooting 8 from the top of the hill. I had my opening.
I shoot a 3 iron 60 yards from the green. Easy pitch and put and I have it. Bro, from the mountain-tops of frosty chips well over the green. This time there is no "Frick," but a nervous pace towards the ball. All I have to do is chip on and 2-put and I will have done it. But I chunk my shot into the sand trap, and have to pitch out. Bro chips on but leaves himself a 50 foot put. After two putting bro finishes with an 11. I have a 7 footer to tie it all up. All I could think about as I stood over that put was, "I do not want to have to listen to Andrew talking about how he beat me," and "If I make this, this will be the funniest hole of golf I have ever played." So with an "Arnold Palmer," like confidence I sink the put. I did it. 5 strokes in one hole. Andrew will have to wait yet another day. It was the worst round of golf i have ever played with the most hilarious finish. One of the many reasons I love competing and golfing with friends is stories like these. Thanks bro for the best last hole of Golf ever, may we have many more (With me winning of course!)
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