I played my first real golf in early July of 2001, followed by my second in August 2005. Here is my record of the first golfing experience.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

On a day when George the president Dubya (Bush's nickname) played speedy golf early in the morning with his father and brother in Kennebunkport, Maine, the gang of golfers made their afternoon similarly worthwhile. We rented three additional packages of golf clubs, in addition to our George's own that he brought with him.

Our initial enthusiasm in golf took a slight dip when BS struggled for quite a few swings to kick his ball off the tee at the start of Hole 1. (For your amusement, RZ reserved the golf outing without knowing exactly what a tee was.) Even the pros among us (George and Don) struggled to make a good impression on the novices. But their instructions proved very valuable. RZ who once practiced golf in a friend's backyard did not miss a single hit in the first dozen attempts. But he lost his ball to a tall tree on the side. It took six of us 45 minutes to drive our balls 370 yards and putt them into Hole 1. We figured quickly that we would still be playing in the wee hours of next morning at this kind of slower-than-snail pace. Thankfully we were about the second to the last group reporting to the Golf Club in the late afternoon, and only had to graciously let the next group of fast chasers to pass us by first. We even abandoned our record-keeping for the numbers of pars were clearly an embarrassment to mention.

Don had a near perfect tee-off at Hole 2. We were all inspired by that par. All of a sudden, the hell broke loose and every one appeared to have a par or two to be cheerful about. The momentary joy overtook our misery time and again. We slightly improved our speed to just under 40 min for 420 yards of Hole 2.

Hole 3 proved the turning point for all of us. We drove 380 yards in just ~20 minutes. Both SY and BS had an excellent first par. Don encouraged Tricia who could not quite make the ball fly high. RZ even skillfully wedged out the ball from a sand trap. George as usual took his time to clean and cover his own power clubs from possible wear and tear. We regained our confidence and courage to press on. XL phoned us to continue enjoying our golf and not bother joining the rest of the mini-reunion group at the beach since they were about to go back to the pool at the Resort at ~6:30 PM.

But our newfound optimism was short-lived. We struggled again to move the ball forward in Hole 4. RZ and a couple others (not to be named here) lost their balls to a pond nearby. But we persevered. Being the farthest on the green from Hole 4, RZ putt his ball in with a single tap, capping a difficult drive of 417 yards. Understandably he jumped up for joy. The picture you saw later was actually a re-enactment of such a joyful jump (no one predicted a priori such a good thing would happen and thus worth picture-taking). We began talking about the possibility of making a living on playing golf. Someone quickly cautioned that golf stars were usually trained up since childhood (as young as 4-year old). Oh well, we are way past that tender age.

The longest yardage was waiting for us. 554 yards away and doglegged, the flag at Hole 5 was beyond our view from the starting line. Sprinkler began bringing rainbow on the side under the glimmering pre-dusk sunshine. We struggled all the way. Don even suggested that we quit with Hole 5. But the rest of us persuaded him to try one last hole.

The setting sun was quickly leveling off. Our shadows grew longer by the minute. Can you correctly name "Who's Who" in the shadow digitally recorded on the green of Hole 6? RZ did it again by finishing the golf outing with a single putt a few yards away. That was 405 yards.

By the end of the game, every one lost two or three balls that George generously supplied. We went back to the resort as a happy gang of golfers, while HD who would otherwise have had golfing fun with us was, "under the gun" (in his own words), busily scheming his business plans to spend the multimillion dollars across the Pacific. Life certainly does not treat us equally, at least for one afternoon.

(2001/July 4 weekend in Cape Cod)