The Boys of Summer tighten the spectrum of their play and finish 6th in MGA State Team Low Net Championship

F. Joel Goldstrand

No problem, glad to help read this net bogie putt.  By the way, I'm already in for par.

Anxiously heading to next tee to see what surprises await. 

Spectrum.  Webster's Dictionary defines it as "a continuous sequence or range".  That single word sums up what this scribe witnessed in Nisswa this week at the 25th playing of the State Net Team Championship.  

I'll try my best to recap the efforts of the curious group, but realize dear readers that I'm working through a mild case of Post Traumatic Stress after what I witnessed while hiding among the Birch Trees at the Preserve and The Pines.  The only way to give you a sense of my stress, I must walk you through a daily recap.

Day One, Labor Day. Practice Round at the Pines.

Our boys hit the links on a blustery day with winds at 15 mph. to get a sense of the course for the upcoming tournament.  Goals for the day varied depending on the competitor involved but all wanted to get a feel for the green speeds which were really running fast as the MGA took a page from the USGA and did not want to see the scores of past years repeated. 

Panda was ensuring the recent addition of a 1 iron met his expectations to comfortably maneuver his tee ball around the extremely shortened set up that rendered his driver useless on most of the holes. Mission accomplished for the Bamboo'ed one as he ripped bullet after bullet down the middle.  

Ferret used his practice round to purge the demons of past championships as it related to his angst at hitting a tee shot on this heavily wooded expanse.  In years past, the poor lad looked like a GI in an LCT heading to Omaha Beach. Face taut, fingers twitching, sweat beading on his upper lip, praying to his god to give him the strength to do his job and not shit his pants when the draw gate came open. Mission accomplished.  The scurrying one purged his demons and realized the fairways were not mined and could be used. 

Jackal had two goals that he was able to accomplish.  One; find a tee ball that would stay straight and not run through the dog legs and two; convince his playing partner (Ferret) that he would not stab him in the eye if he had a bad stretch of holes..

Sloth had the most curious of approaches to a practice round this writer has ever seen.  Aside from an occasional second tee ball to check out a different angle or club, Sloth, veteran of most any manner of scramble tournaments ever concocted, used his afternoon to grind on achieving his best personal score of the summer.  Mission accomplished!  Finishing the 18th alone in a thunder and lightening storm to post his 79.   He should have called an Uber, headed back to the Cities and called it a day. More on that later.  

After the round the fellas headed back to the cabin to refresh themselves with food and drink.  Ah the first night.  When these boys head up north,the first night is very akin to the first shot fired in battle. You know the old saying "All the Generals plans go out the window when the first shot is fired." Nothing could be more true about these middle aged goons when they don't have to drive, there are no wives around and no bar tender to cut them off.  Holy God!   Next year I'm buying grain stocks at the Chicago Exchange before these clowns head off to Nisswa.  Last time this writer saw this much booze poured was at a Croatian wedding in Allen Town with 400 steal workers in attendance.  

Day Two; first round at the Preserve

Thank goodness for a late morning tee time as it gave the boys time for a morning sober up.  Shaking off the effects of the wedding reception reenactment the night before was no small feat for the Jackal and Ferret.  All morning and through the front nine Jackal acted like he had drank a bottle of Go Lightly the night before as he was purging his ass every 10 minutes as if getting cleaned out for a Colonoscopy procedure.

Ferret was having trouble marking his ball on the green due to his hand shaking like an Epilepsy sufferer.  Thank goodness he only had to use his mark three times on the front side as he decided to recuperate in the cart as the Jackal finished the first 7 holes, clenched butt cheeks and all.

The two tribal elders soldered on and the Ferret found his game for stretches and contributed on 5 critical holes during play.  Once his hands stopped shaking he was able to put repeated back to back swings on the ball without eliminating a yard of sod and make some very slippery putts.  Can you say GAMER.

Panda and Sloth had no such physical maladies to wade through on day one as they acted as if they had consumed nothing but spring water with lemon wedges the night before.  It also helps that they are both reincarnated Croatian steal workers from Pennsylvania. 

One would have thought then, that the score they shot would have been much lower.  "they" is the operative word. For in a 4 ball stroke play event both players must work together, pick each other up and often be on at the same run to maximize results.  Remember my suggestion earlier of the Uber rental following a record score?  Apparently Sloth mistook my advice and thought I meant the cart he rode in was the Uber and his partner (Panda) was the rented driver. Contributing a mighty 3 holes, the Sloth was unable to duplicate or even come close to his Hoganesque  ball striking of the previous day   

His performance didn't seem to upset the Panda if you overlook the fact that at the turn he ran into the clubhouse to see if any of the staff members were carrying heat and would accept a crisp hundo to put two in the back of the Sloth's head.

Day 2 final round at The Pines

Starting their day tied for 11th and 6 shots off the lead, the boys needed everyone to step up and play solid golf for 18 holes.  Nothing spectacular was needed to catch the leaders, just solid, keep the ball in front of you, make a few putts golf.  

Knowing this, the fellas took it easier the night before and got a decent nights sleep.  Arriving at the course ready to cast out their demons from the previous day, Ferret and Sloth sought the help of a local Chippewa Medicine Man who performed a Native Ritual involving burning Sage and tribal chanting......he should have called them an Uber.

Fresh off their ritual, and determined to recreate the golf they had played in recent months, the "Skittish One" and "He Who Must Hole Out Regardless" performed the golfing version of taking down their pants and pooping in the fairway!  By the 7 hole Panda was calling Gander Mountain to see if they could meet him at the turn with a fully loaded 12 gauge and Jackal was looking for the nearest trash can in which to toss the Ferret's irons.  

If you want to get a sense of how disturbing this was to witness, read all of Steven Kings novels in succession while listening to the entire library of Warren Zevon.!!  These two could just as well have of been using old Feathery's  and hickory shafts instead of the custom fitted, custom grind clubs they were abusing.  Titleist and Ping stocks fell 10 points on the exchange and if was rumored that the Titleist and Ping equipment reps are trying to line up deals for these guys to play Callaways next year. 

Somehow through the carnage these guys were able to muscle up on enough holes to avoid Panda's marksmanship and Jackal's recycling effort to help the team score 5 under and finish 6th.  8 shots behind the winners.  That means the boys were a  mere 8 less chunks, tops, sculls and mach III putts from winning.  It showed this writer that this team can and will win this silly thing one of these years.  

Never playing the game at the competitive level of these four but witnessing and writing about this venerable game for over 40 years, I can't help but wonder if what I saw between the rounds might have had something to do with their performance.  Re-enacting the Croatian wedding reception perhaps?....nah....that cannot be stopped.  To much adrenaline.  I did notice however an extraordinary preoccupation with food. As in; let's see who can win the title of top chef.  

Now this writer is not going to pooh pooh great food.  Far from it, as my battle with a spare tire will attest, but it seems to me that if the fellas worried less about becoming the next Bobby Flay and worrying more about becoming the next Bobby Clampett, their chances of winning would rise proportionately.  I pulled 'old grump' (re; Jackal) to the side during day one after his 10th poop and asked him about all the dicing, mincing, flambeing and sauteing.  "I'd be good with Dinty Moore and less X's on the card."  Well said you old curmudgeon. 

Well dear readers, I will leave you with my final thought after watching the performance of the PanJack Tour at the 25th State Team Low Net.  SPECTRUM.  Yes, these four are on it.  

Watch for my new book coming out sometime in 2018:  

Fairways and Greens, god I wish we could hit them.
A year on the PanJack Tour