I’ve had a magic number for quite some time now. I think about this number often. Sadly enough, I have even dreamt about the number.

Yesterday, I met it face to face.

As you know by now, I hike and sleep (one more than the other). However, there is another venture that I would pursue above all others, had I the financial stability or spousal approval to do so—GOLF. I work for a major golf equipment and apparel company, and one of the job perks is the ability to play at some of the nicer golf courses in the area.

Usually that spells bad news for my score. Nice courses are, in general, more difficult than the 10-bucks-a-pop courses I frequent. Yesterday, however, I was on. I opened the round with a birdie, something I’ve never done on the first hole at this course. Following two bogies on 2 and 3, I birdied the 4th – a looong par 5 with nauseating 3-tiered green surrounded by bunkers and OB. Eric has nicknamed this “The hole on which I’ve never scored better than 10.” Somehow, my drive was amazing, and with a little one-two punch, I hit my 3-wood 235 yards onto the front of the green. Left with a 50 foot put up 3 tiers, I picked my line and whacked the ball within 6 inches. Tap in for birdie. It was a great moment. The rest of the front seemed mediocre, but I finished with 43 – my best on the front nine at this course.

It was at this moment that I stole a glance at the magic number. As he made his way to the car, my brother-in-law, Trent, shouted to me, “Par for the back nine!” (He was planning to attend the Broadway interpretation of “The Lion King”, and couldn’t finish 18 with Jim and I). Though I knew par was out of the picture, I usually play better on the back. Holes 10-15 passed by in a fairly standard, uneventful manner. Then we faced a monster. The 16th is a downhill, short par 3 with impregnable bunker defenses and an enormous drop-off waiting to devour any ball long or left. My tee shot was nice. Straight away, but a little short, leaving me a 15ft putt for birdie. GOT IT! A little curly friend at the end, and the 2 was mine.



The next hole makes me giddy. Usually playing at 275 yards, I’m able to drive the green with a straight shot. Unfortunately, my drives are not usually straight, and yesterday the tees were back to 300 yards. Undaunted, I laid into the ball like the lady banging the cat against the wall in Monty Python’s Holy Grail (“Bring out your dead!”) The ball was straight but left, and ended up pin-high in the rough. My chip shot was nearly fatal, as the ball flirted with edge of a hill that would have left me 30+ feet away. Fortunately, the ball hung on to hill, and I sunk a 6-footer for back-to-back birdies. I finished with a lousy 6 on the 18th hole.

Then the magic number apparated (for you Steph). Jim read my score, “80.” The number may not seem impressive to many, but for me, it was Elysium. It’s a good thing too, for I fear I may never see it again.

PB