by JIM ANDERSON
To quote Peter Finch in the 1976 movie Network, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!”
I am tired of the frequent monsoons destroying my golf schedule. Every time I drive up to Ledgeview, even if it’s not raining when I leave my home (eight minutes away), it starts pouring before I get there.
Usually I just turn around and go home, go back to bed and pull the covers over my head, whimpering softly. Sometimes I hang around, gazing forlornly at the course from the safety of the pro shop. Then I go home.
The other day, the most exciting thing that happened to me was that my odometer showed five of the same digits on my way home. That was a really special, fun day.
Sometimes I actually go play in the rain. I never used to do this, except in December when I was desperate. But we’re into June for cryin’ out loud, and I am desperate. My clubs won’t dry out unless I put them in an incubator. My niblick has rampant mildew. There is moss growing on the north side of my mashie. Even my Pro V1s have developed a greenish tinge.
Enough already! I’m getting old; I need some bounce and run with my driver. I thought this rant would make me feel better. It hasn’t. I have to go now. I have to take my shoes out of the trunk and de-mud them . . . again.