LITTLE DOGG GOLF LEAGUE — WEEKLY RECAP

JR vs. Bob H

Didn't hear much about this match, which usually means one of two things: either nothing exciting happened…or both guys agreed that what happened on the course should never be discussed publicly.

The card shows both golfers shooting 49, but after handicaps, improperly recorded strokes, some forensic accounting, and possibly a call to PricewaterhouseCoopers, Bob H comes away with the 5–2 win.

I'm not sure how we got from two 49s to 5–2, but the scorecard says it happened, so we're moving on before someone requests an audit.

NEXT!

Joe appears to be getting his game back on track.

Of course, before teeing off we got the usual medical report:

“My shoulder hurts.”
“My leg hurts.”
“My back's tight.”
“I didn't sleep.”
“The humidity is affecting my joints.”

At this point I expected him to request a handicapped cart and a priest.

Then the son of a bitch goes out and shoots a 39!

A THIRTY-NINE!

Sounds unrealistic, doesn't it?

Unfortunately, I witnessed it with my own eyes.

And here's the question of the week:

How the hell do you make PAR on the first hole when your 2nd shot goes OVER THE ROAD AND INTO SOMEBODY'S RESIDENTIAL YARD?

Ask Joe.

Apparently there is a secret shortcut through the neighborhood that the rest of us have not been informed about.

Kevin finally answered with a birdie on #9, but by then the damage was done. That's like winning a fistfight after the ambulance already left with you in it.

Joe gets the win.

NEXT!

Jim H continues doing something completely foreign to most members of this league:

playing consistently good golf.

Jim fires another solid 41.

Rosey actually played pretty damn well too, but unfortunately “pretty damn well” doesn't help much when the other guy keeps hitting fairways, greens, and acting like he knows what he's doing.

Jim H wins 4–1.

Nothing ridiculous. No balls in yards. No scorecard investigation.

Quite frankly, this match was disappointing from an entertainment standpoint.

NEXT!

You never know what you're going to get when these two play.

Both guys can absolutely crush the golf ball.

The problem is that neither one has the slightest fucking idea where it's going.

A Don or Mike drive can land in the fairway, rough, woods, another fairway, someone's cart, or possibly a neighboring township.

Don manages to keep enough balls on the property to shoot a 50, which is a damn good round for his average.

Mike?

Mike was just a little out of control.

And by “a little,” I mean the golf course may want to conduct an inventory of missing wildlife.

Mike shoots 55.

Don wins 5–1.

NEXT!

Okay.

Everybody sit down.

Flip shot a 56.

Yes.

A 56.

Now normally when Flip turns in a scorecard, there are so many scratches, eraser marks, arrows, corrections, and mathematical equations that it looks like someone was trying to solve the Zodiac Killer cipher.

But this week?

Not a shit-ton of scratches.

Which leads me to believe Jim must have been keeping score.

So apparently…

FLIP ACTUALLY SHOT A 56!

Meanwhile, Jim apparently lost his golf game while driving to the course.

Best theory I've heard is that it flew out of the convertible while he was doing 90 mph.

Because once Jim got to the course, his golf balls began disappearing faster than beer at a fireman's picnic.

Eventually he'd had enough and hung it up.

Honestly, after losing that many golf balls, quitting probably saved him enough money to buy another round next week.

Flip wins 6–1 AND TAKES THE BONUS POINT!

Somewhere, hell just froze over.

NEXT!

Carl gets himself another win and cards a respectable 48.

I don't have much more information about Carl's round, so we'll just assume he showed up, hit the ball, avoided catastrophe, and quietly collected his points.

In this league, that's practically championship-caliber strategy.

We're officially entering the final third of the season, and things are getting interesting.

Jim H — 40 points
Bob H — 38 points
Jim T — 34 points
Joe — 34 points

And there are still plenty of golfers close enough to make a run at that final spot.

Then there's…

ME.

LOL.

What a fucking joke.

At this point I'm not really “competing” in the golf league.

I'm more like a weekly demonstration showing everyone else what not to do.

Fairway? Nope.
Green? Occasionally by accident.
Putting? Depends how you define putting.
Confidence? Missing.
Golf balls? Also missing.

My entire postseason strategy has now been reduced to one thing:

I need that beautiful little piece of completely undeserved opportunity to somehow land in my hands.

And if it does?

I promise to do everything in my power to SHOW THE FUCK UP and represent all mediocre golfers who refused to quit simply because they had absolutely no business still playing.

Until then…

Keep swinging.
Keep lying about your handicaps.
Keep checking Joe's yardage through residential neighborhoods.
And somebody please verify Flip's 56 before this goes into the official record books.

SEE YOU ALL NEXT WEEK!

CONGRATS to last years Champ Bob !