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A Golfing Misadventure: Four Guys, One Wild Saturday Afternoon

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This story is mainly true, well kinda…only all the events and names have been changed to protect the golfer’s identities – BUT, You know who you are – Mike!

INTRODUCTION

Ah, the perfect Saturday afternoon: sunny skies, a gentle breeze, and the promise of a relaxing round of golf. Little did our fearless foursome know, their golfing escapade would soon turn into a hilarious series of misadventures. Join me as we dive into the timeless tale of four guys who set out for a leisurely golfing expedition, only to find themselves knee-deep in the rough, a little bit of laughter, and one of them drenched in pond water and out of golf balls by the 9th hole…

TIMELINE

Tee Time Troubles: Our adventure begins at the local golf course, where our four heroes—Bill, Tom, Jerry, and Mike (The dentist sandbagger who claims he has played all of 2 rounds of golf in the last year but you know he is on the range every week). They arrived bright and early, armed with their golf clubs and a pocketful of dreams. As they approach the first tee, a chorus of squawks echoes through the air. Turns out, they’ve accidentally stumbled upon a pigeon convention! Chaos ensues as they dodge the frantic birds, their white rain and feathers dropping like hail in a Michigan winter, and a starter who is calling them to the box for the final time…

Ahhh, they survived, and manage to tee off amidst the chaos. Now we are not sure if Tom actually got covid or the Avian flu that day, but that story is for another day…

Bill: “Well, it appears pigeons around here are avid golf spectators. Should we offer them a handicap?” Jerry: “Well, at least they don’t charge greens fees and who knew freckin birds could read!”

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The Caddy Conundrum: To make things more interesting, our band of merry golfers decides to pony up and hire a caddie for the first time.

Enter Dotty, a witty caddy with a penchant for sarcasm. As they make their way through the course, Dotty can’t help but poke fun at their golfing skills (or lack thereof).Dotty: “Gentlemen, I must say, your swings are a work of art—abstract art, that is!” Tom: “Hey now, Picasso had to start somewhere right?” Everyone laughs except Mike…

Mike: “Seriously guys, Maybe we should just stick to mini-golf next time. I told you I haven’t been playing much! (We all know that guy – am I right?)

The Water Hazard Incident: Every weekend warrior’s nightmare…the dreaded water hazard. Our heroes are no exception. As they approach a treacherous pond that stretches the entire left-hand side of the hole, they swap stories and golf balls, reaching into their bags and trading their Pro V1’s for Pinnacles – you know just in case. They reminisce about their most embarrassing golf moments, trying to calm their nerves.

Bill, is on the edge of the water on a par 4. He has 147 yards into the green but also a very precarious stance and a lie that would make even Jordan Speith scared (Think the ledge at Pebble – in case you need reminding – we have the video below) Bill, however, decides to tempt fate with a mighty swing, only to send his ball flying into the water and literally soaking himself in the process.

Jerry: “Bill, that was quite the water ballet you just performed!” Bill (drenched): “Well, I thought it was time to take the ‘splash’ shot to a whole new level!” Here is the video Tom took of Bill – valiant effort old chap…

Lost in the Rough: Navigating the thick stuff is never easy, and our golfers soon find themselves in a maze of USGA-style tall grass and lost golf balls. Their futile attempts to find their way back to the fairway become a comedy of errors, with exaggerated gestures and absurd claims of spotting elusive golf and pop culture legends hidden in the shrubbery.

Bill: “I swear, I just saw Bigfoot caddying for Elvis in there!” Tom: “Boys, I think we’ve officially entered the Bermuda Triangle of golf courses.”

CONCLUSION

As the sun begins to set, our fearsome foursome finally makes their way back to the clubhouse. Despite the countless mishaps, a soaked Bill, and belly-busting laughter-inducing moments, they realize that their expedition was not about skill or score at all. It was about the camaraderie and the shared joy of experiencing life’s absurdities together. Also about the 6 shots of fireball they each had on the front 9. That will leave a mark, buy hey – at least they have all Sunday to recover.

MORAL OF THE STORY

So, the next time you find yourself on the golf course with a group of friends, remember to embrace the unexpected, laugh at your misfortunes, don’t be afraid to get a little wet and savor the moments that turn a regular Saturday afternoon into an unforgettable comedy of errors. In simpler terms…Make a memory!

As our four friends bid adieu to the golf course, they couldn’t help but reflect on the day’s events at the 19th hole.

Jerry: “Well, boys, that was certainly a round we’ll never forget.” Bill: “Indeed! Let’s raise our clubs to the unpredictable nature of golf and the laughter it brings.” Tom: “And to doing it again, I mean like literally all of it, next week! Cheers boys. Oh yeah, one last thing…ahh Bill, how’s the pond water taste my friend? Tom laughs, but the rest know Billy Boy has a few tricks of his own up his sleeve, so they just sit back and wait for the real show to begin.

Bill smiles and looks at the others for approval. They all knew what was coming and each one nodded as to say – its a go…he earned it! Bill then promptly flags down the waitress, and says – Would you believe it – our Tommy boy right here hit a hole-in-one today and would like to buy the whole bar a round. The waitress excited at the prospect of getting a huge tip – stands up on the bar, loudly rings the bell, and says – “Excuse me, we had an ace on the course today and he would like to buy you all a drink!” The bar erupts in cheers. Tom, locks eyes with Bill and says- “Well Played Bagger Vance… I will get you back for this.”

So in honor of their little family feud and Tom’s $1100 bar tab, we decided to close out this tale of tragedy and triumph as we humbly present to you – The actual footage of the water shot – Bills drenching if you will – Happy Monday – Hit ’em straight…and remember the worst day on the course is better than the best day in the office.

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Meet The Canadian Open Qualifier Tied To ClickIt Golf!

“This week was incredible,” he said. “A dream come true.”

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Josh Goldenberg doesn’t plan to quit his day job. But he had a great time dabbling in his old career.

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He gave up on pro golf, then qualified for his first PGA Tour event.

Read the full story here
https://golf.com/news/josh-goldenberg-rbc-canadian-open/?amp=1

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Bets & Babes: Betting on Birdies

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In this latest episode of Bets and Babes join me and my special guest Robert from the World Series of Golf as we tee up a whole new way to think about betting on the green.

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We break down golf betting basics, share hilarious stories and talk about how to bet in a way that might resonate with us ladies.

Whether you’re a total newbie or just curious how to make golf Sundays more exciting, this episode delivers fun, flirty, and smart tips to get you in the game. 🎧⛳💸

Click below to listen to the entire episode and leave your comments and suggestions for future episodes.

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The Bogey Man’s Guide to Accidental Course Exploration: Or, How I Found My Ball (Eventually) in the Rough of Life

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Ah, golf. The gentle game of precision, patience, and occasionally, profound personal humiliation. You know, the kind that makes you question all your life choices, particularly the one where you decided to spend your Saturday morning chasing a tiny white ball around 18 acres of manicured torture.

Boo here, reporting live from the depths of a particularly thorny patch of “rough” that I’m fairly certain wasn’t on the course map. My mission? To recount a tale of a golf shot so spectacularly off-target, it became less about breaking par and more about breaking new ground. Literally.

It was a glorious Tuesday. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and my swing felt… well, it felt like something. I was on the par-4 7th, a hole notorious for its deceptive dogleg and a bunker that swallows balls faster than a hungry teenager devours pizza. My plan was simple: a nice, controlled fade, landing gently just short of the green. A textbook approach, really.

What actually happened was less “textbook” and more “abstract expressionism.” My driver, bless its misguided heart, decided that “fade” was merely a suggestion, and “controlled” was a concept best left to professional pilots. The ball, a brand-new, gleaming Titleist Pro V1 (because, you know, optimism), launched with the trajectory of a startled pheasant and veered sharply right. So sharply, in fact, it cleared the cart path, hopped over the maintenance shed, and disappeared into what I can only describe as a dense, untamed jungle previously known as “the woods bordering the 7th fairway.”

Now, a lesser golfer, a more sensible golfer, might have declared it lost, taken a drop, and moved on with their dignity mostly intact. But I, dear readers, am Mr. Bogey Man. And the Bogey Man doesn’t abandon his children, especially when they cost $5 a pop.

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So, armed with a 7-iron (optimism again, clearly), a profound sense of misplaced determination, and a faint hope that perhaps a deer had picked it up and was using it as a chew toy, I plunged into the abyss.

The first five minutes were a blur of tangled vines, unseen roots, and the distinct feeling that I was being watched by small, judgmental woodland creatures. My pristine golf shoes quickly became mud-caked relics. My carefully tucked-in shirt became a casualty of low-hanging branches. I swear, I heard a squirrel snicker.

Then, a glimmer! A flash of white amidst the green. “Aha!” I cried, startling a family of robins. I pushed through a particularly stubborn bush, only to find… a discarded plastic water bottle. My heart sank faster than my last putt from 3 feet.

I pressed on, muttering to myself about the unfairness of golf, the existential dread of lost balls, and whether it was too late to take up competitive napping. Just as I was about to give up and declare the ball a permanent resident of the arboreal underworld, I saw it. Nestled perfectly at the base of an ancient oak, gleaming defiantly, was my Pro V1.

The triumph! The sheer, unadulterated joy! It was like finding the Holy Grail, if the Holy Grail was spherical and prone to slicing. I carefully extracted it, brushed off a few leaves, and held it aloft.

Then I looked around. I had no idea where I was. The fairway was a distant, hazy memory. The cart path? A myth. I was utterly, gloriously lost.

It took another fifteen minutes of bushwhacking, a brief but intense wrestling match with a particularly aggressive thistle, and the accidental discovery of what I’m pretty sure was a very old, very moldy sandwich, but I eventually stumbled back onto the course. My playing partners, who had long since finished the hole and were contemplating sending out a search party (or at least ordering another round of drinks), looked at me with a mixture of pity and amusement.

My score on the 7th? Let’s just say it involved a number that would make a mathematician weep. But the story? The adventure? The sheer ridiculousness of it all? Priceless.

So, the next time your ball decides to take an unscheduled tour of the local flora and fauna, don’t despair. Embrace it. See it as an opportunity for accidental exploration. You might not break 80, but you’ll definitely have a story. And isn’t that what golf is really about? (Besides the frustration, the lost balls, and the occasional snickering squirrel, of course.)

Until next time, keep those swings (mostly) in bounds, and remember: even a bogey can be an adventure.

Boo

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