When my wonderful daughter Elisabeth and her terrific boyfriend George and I decided it was time for some Sunday golf, I suggested the little city golf course that’s just two miles from our house in our Eastwood neighborhood.
They’d already been to Sunnycrest’s sister nine-hole, par-three course, Burnet Park, so they were eager to try out the layout that lies on the hill next to Henninger High School.
The price sure is right at $6 per golfer. I took my push cart out of the trunk, and George pulled the pull cart he spied at somebody’s curb and did a great job reclaiming for Elisabeth. He proclaimed that later he’d be painting her wheel hubs pink. He carried her bags. Truth be known, in a pinch, these par-three holes could probably be navigated carrying just a putter, wedge, nine and seven. But if you’ve got a cart, why not?
The lone guy working in the brick building told me we’d pretty much have the course to ourself. “Two others out there,” he said.
No rush. We all agreed we like that.
There were some hills to navigate, from tee to green, and between holes.
Somehow it seemed that all of them were going up.
We all hit some good shots. In fact, I hit a lot of good shots from the tee, I thought, although my wise daughter asked me why sometimes they went to the left and sometimes they went to the right. I told her that it would be far less fun if I knew exactly where they were going every time. But I hardly believed that.
Elisabeth hit her tee shot on the green several holes.
She was consistent from the tee, even though she said she didn’t much like using the hybrid club that she used on several of the holes. It certainly got the ball up in the air and that 100 or so yards to the green.
In fact, I thought on this day, she hit it better than the driver, which she pulled out on the couple of holes that were longer than 125 yards.
George had a bit of trouble containing his power, going long on a lot of his tee shots, even with his wedge.
Is it just the explosiveness of youth? That could be.
It also could be explained by the fact that last year, George misplaced his wedge, and this season he has a new one in his bag. It may carry more distance than the rest of his clubs, you know.
I left three puts on the lip of the hole, George noted.
That surprised me. I always rather hit a putt a little harder rather than a little two easy. It can’t go in if it doesn’t get there is one of the truest cliches in golf.
Elisabeth scuffed the putter behind the ball a couple of times. She had declared that her putter was too short, so she was using George’s longer club.
I advised her to choke up an inch, but still … Maybe her dad knows what store to get her a gift card do so she can pick out a new putter this Christmas.
Just thinking in public.
When we finished, Elisabeth added up the scores before they headed back to George’s in Baldwinsville. Ellie B aka Dogamous Pyle had jumped up on them both enough before the round. Anyway, I had shot 38, which made me very happy. Elisabeth came in in the 40s, nipping George by two shots.
We talked about the weekend prior, when they both ran the 3K at the Boilermaker in Utica. Elisabeth said she thought she’s beaten George then, too, because she finished so much earlier than he did. But when they got their official times, it turns out he ran two seconds faster than she did, but had passed the starting line way later than her.
“If I had known that, I would have run two seconds faster,” my competitive daughter said.
“You should have. You were training and I wasn’t,” he said.
They were happy, too. Our Sunday round was fun all around.
Do you play golf with a parent or a child, and what makes it the most memorable if you do? What’s the best nine-hole score you’ve shot, and why do you think you were at your best that day? Would you be so competitive that you’d have to beat your significant other in every event, and why do you think you’re that way?