For friends, family and the random search engine visitor. This blog started as an experiment in mobile blogging from my Palm TREO 600, 700, Prē, HTC Evo, Samsung 5, Pixel 3, Pixel 6 Pro. Now it serves as a simple repository of favorite activities. Expect bad golf, good fishing, great sailing, eating, drinking, adventure travel, occasional politics and anything else I find interesting along the way including, but not limited to, any of the labels listed here...
MW BLOG LABEL CLOUD (click label for posts on that topic)
I forewarned the usual suspects that we would be playing a round in between winter storms, which means a muddy course. Bob and Stuart confirmed anyway.
The forecast held, weather was clear and cool, and the course was muddy. We didn't take the usual group shot until later in the round, as Bob did not join us until later in the round. You'll note in these screenshots that the course venue was specified in the e-mail invite subject header as well as the 8:30 tee-time. Just sayin'
Bob was still at Lincoln when we teed off. Surprisingly, he caught us on the 3rd tee. Impressive.
The course was as muddy as forecast. Winter rules. As it turns out, the Women's Club Tournament we thought was behind us skipped the canyon and jumped ahead of us anyway. This slowed things down a bit, even by Sunday public golf standards. Willie was playing as a single and joined us in the canyon. He was best prepared among us to deal with typical Sunday muni delays.
Folding seat, table attached to cart with drink, snacks, and music. Muni golf at it's finest.
In the hope of following up my decent outing at Lincoln with another sub 100 round, I decided to not attempt the usual live blog on the course. Instead we'll just post a few pictures from the day, with a focus on my new favorite blogging toy - animated gifs. Without further ado:
Stuart misses his putt on 10
I was feeling pretty good at the turn...
SJ 46 MW 49 BP 54
Bob out of jail in 10th fairway
Stuart on 12th tee
You'll note my drive on 12 is not heading toward the green.
Neither is my divot.
Yes, I hit a divot off the tee.
Bob on 14th tee
Traditional 17th Tee Portrait
Bob on 18
Willie on 18
Stuart on 18
Muddy but fun. Didn't quite get there (sub 100) but a great day at Sharp in tough conditions.
I tripled on 18 but won't complain. Any time I break 100 is a good day. Kyle was appreciative of his first experience at Lincoln. Sure, he was whining about the greens, but acknowledged that Lincoln offered some of the most spectacular vistas in golf.
We had some time to kill on the 17th tee waiting for the green to clear. Getting these two to line up properly for the traditional 17th hole portrait was like herding cats.
This => "I need to borrow your beer for a prop levers drinking the Red Seal right now"
Was apparenetly accidently added to the post by google voice recognition overhearing a random conversation snippet. As a blogging originalist, I thought it best not to delete it.
Playing with the Feldscher boys. We had a late start because Bob set up the tee time. Except that he didn't. We had to hang around for about 45 minutes before they could fit us in.
I wasn't going to live blog this threesome but Bob insisted. He wanted Kyle to get The Full Lincoln Park Experience - so we'll be documenting the round. Kyle is already making excuses, claiming he has not played golf in months. Whatever.
Couldn't be a nicer day at Lincoln Park. Sunny, cool, no clouds, no wind - I have high hopes for my round.
On my doctor's orders I am at my safe space in Lincoln Park playing golf to take my mind off of... well... you know. I don't want to repeat that trigger word here. No live blogging today due to my fragile mental state.
Playing with Stuart, Rick, and Bob. Beautiful day. Early fog has burned off and we are now enjoying warm temps, sunshine, and little wind... it couldn't be nicer. Stuart is contributing photos, partially relieving me of the burden documenting the round. Will update with photos after the round.
A great day, except for the fact that Rick "Trumped" me on the front nine. At the turn:
SF 44
RZ 45
BP 49
MW 53
The election result is affecting my game more than I anticipated. I was reminded that I've frequently asserted that I would give up the game if Rick beats me. He's playing out of his mind with four pars on the front. I'm playing badly. At this point in the day I began to realize this could be the end of me golf career. On the 10th tee I was determined to fight back.
Believe it or not this corkscrew follow-through resulted in a great drive and a par. Alas it was not enough...
I guess I must disclose the final results.
SJ 44 43 87
BP 49 40 89
RZ 45 54 99
MW 53 52 105
I've decided that it would be wrong for me to give up the game based on this single round. It was not my fault. Clearly the blame for my surprising under-performance lies elsewhere. I blame James Comey, the FBI, Vladimir Putin, WikiLeaks, Julian Assange, Jill Stein, Gary Johnson, Bernie Sanders supporters, the New York Times, Washington Post, Mainstream Media, John Podesta, Facebook, Mark Zuckerberg, Twitter, Millennials, Boomers, Donna Brazille, Debby Wasserman-Schultz, Bill Clinton, the Clinton Foundation, House Republicans, the DNC and the low information, racist, sexist voters representing 50% of America.
I have attended an ecstatic city wide World Series celebration. Unfortunately it was here in my adopted home of San Francisco instead of where I left my sporting heart in Chicago. It was amazing, but pales in comparison to the "Cubstock" World Series celebration in Chicago today. I had to be satisfied with watching the wall-to-wall coverage on MLB, ESPN, and WGN networks. There is no way to improve on the superlatives and emotions on display, so I won't try. Everyone, from the people on the streets of Chicago, to the crusty "seen it all" baseball correspondents weeping openly on air and in print felt the magic. Let's just state the obvious and move on:
This was the greatest celebration, in honor of the greatest team, playing the greatest game, in the greatest championship series of the greatest season of the greatest sport in the history of this or any universe since the beginning of time.
There were just too many story lines to count: The 108 year Chicago Cubs drought vs the 68 year Cleveland Indian drought; Cubs come back from 1-3 deficit to force game 7, Retiring David Ross hitting two home runs in the World Series, including a crucial blow in Game 7; Cubs first losing to, then beating the Giants ace Madison Bumgarner in the NLDS, Dodger's ace Clayton Kershaw in the NLCS, and Indians ace Corey Kluber in the World Series; The extra inning rain delay clubhouse meeting led by Jason Heyward, the double plays by Russell to Baez to Rizzo that won the NL Pennant invoking the 1908 Cubs infield of Tinker to Evers to Chance; The Rickets / Epstein / Maddon rebuilding; Addison Russell's grand slam; Montero's pinch hit grand slam and crucial game 7 hit; The Schwarber comeback; Series MVP Zobrist's back-to-back World Series; Bryant's MVP base running and fielding and hitting - it just goes on and on.
With the media saturation over the last couple days, you'd think the networks had every story covered. But there may be one story that they missed - the goat. What happened to the goat? I'll get back to that. But first, there is one other story line that I'd like to kill right now.
Please! Please! Please! Spare me the Cubs "lovable loser", "loss of identity", "who are we now" happy horseshit. I don't care how many sappy, pseudo-intellectual, navel-gazing, melancholic, self-identified Cubs fans spouting psycho-babble about loss of identity you can find. I mean, what is wrong with you people? Just STFU! I don't want to hear this crap. I cut high school to sit in the left field bleachers in 1969, sat in Candlestick Park when Will Clark single-handedly beat the Cubs in the 1989 NLCS Series, and watched in stunned silence after the Bartman Ball in 2003. I won't miss or be nostalgic for one second of being a "lovable loser."
I'll tell you our identity. We are obnoxious winners. As Chicago sports fans we've been there before. 1991-1998 Chicago Bulls. Six championships in seven years. Two three-peats. Michael Jordan. Scottie Pippen. Dennis Rodman. Steve Kerr. Their dominance in the sport was hated by fans in every other NBA city. We reveled in grinding any spark of joy or hope out of the heart of every other team. Los Angeles Lakers. Seattle Supersonics. Portland Trailblazers. Utah Jazz. Detroit Pistons. New York Knicks. All great teams. We sneered at their futility and laughed at the despair of their fans. Ahh. The good old days. Does anyone think that those Chicago Bulls fans then were a completely different group of people than Chicago Cubs fans now? Does anyone think those fans just went away? If you're not sure, just check any on-line discussion about who was the greatest NBA player - Jordan or James? Jordan or Curry? Jordan or Bryant? I rest my case.
This is who we are as Cubs fans. We have the youngest team in baseball with the best hitters, best pitchers, best fielders, best manager, best front office, best owner and best ballpark. Bar none. There is no weakness on this team. We deserve a dynasty, and with this line-up we'll get one.That is our identity. We don't want to be loved. We want to be hated for our greatness.
The only thing left to say at this point: Wait 'till next year.
So - If you want to look for lovable losers searching for identity, look elsewhere. You might try Cleveland. It's pretty clear that the "goat" has found a new home. I mean - look at these idiots:
They actually brought a goat dressed in Cleveland colors to the ballpark. What were they thinking? Do they not understand how curses work? Did they not notice that the goat of the "Billygoat Curse" was actually the mascot for the Chicago Cubs dressed in Cub colors and denied entrance to the gates of Wrigley Field? BWAHAHAHAHAHA! Excuse me. Did I accidentally ALL CAP that derisive laughter? Sorry.
C'mon. None of us really believe in that superstitious nonsense. But still, does it not seem a little odd that in the top of the very first inning of the Cubs return to Progressive Field in Game 6 - this happened:
Look. I am not saying that the Billygoat Curse has relocated to Progressive Field.
Oh wait... That's exactly what I am saying. I just wouldn't want anyone in Cleveland to get the idea that I would be deliberately spreading that superstition. I am sure everything will be just fine for the Cleveland Indians over the next century.
Really.
You might even enjoy that "lovable loser" thing.
My only other counsel after that heart wrenching loss... Wait 'till next year.
