Range Games

I haven’t had much time to play or practice in the last month, but I’m making an effort to get in whatever golf I can before the snow starts in Colorado. A few days ago, I went to the driving range at Murphy Creek Golf Course. I went through my bag and hit some shots with each club until I hit one solid enough to convince myself that I could still play this game, and then I spent the last 30ish balls hitting at a drum-shaped target about 75 yards away. I started out trying to hit some shots with different trajectories, but at some point my goal shifted to just hitting the damn thing.

After a few minutes, I noticed that my shots weren’t the only ones approaching the target. The guy beside me on the range looked to be a decent player and had the shallow, wrist controlled swing of a club pro. He also had headphones in and a large cigar in his mouth for the entire practice session. We didn’t say a word to each other, but it was evident that we were attacking the same target.

For 10 minutes, we had it surrounded, but neither of us could make the drum beat. I wondered if Cigar Man knew we were in a competition. Like a butcher, I produced a mix of thin and fat, but my good shots were coming up just to the right of the target. With about 5 balls left, I heard the sound that I so badly wanted to produce, but it didn’t come from my hand. I turned back to see my silent competitor standing over his next approach, cigar still in place, and as he noticed me turning to him, he produced a half smile with the free part of his mouth. No words had been said, but I knew I had been bested.

I tried to lock in for my last few shots, and on my final ball I managed to one-hop a shot into the drum. It wasn’t the result I was looking for, and I had already lost to my neighbor, but as I turned to put my wedge back in my bag, I hear, “That counts!”, from my new buddy. I nodded, laughed, and headed to the parking lot. Until next time, Cigar Man.