HBP

Pitchers have a tough job, they have to protect the plate by throwing either with skill (ala Greg Maddux) or with fear (ala Nuke Laloosh). Protecting the plate with fear meant you had to throw the ball at the batter so he doesn't crowd the plate...sometimes hitting the batter in the process (hit by pitch HBP)...which can lead to all-out war between the two teams with usually the pitcher getting the worst of it.

Golf does not have this problem. Golfers spray balls all over the public courses and in golf tournaments. If it lands on a persons head or grazes their arm...so be it..."I yelled four!" is the excuse...no recourse...no challenging the hitter of ball, just a "I'm sorry my face got in the way of your ball" apology from the hitee.

This happened to me yesterday. Beautiful day...looking forward to the first day of hitting the links...oh, let me back up...I sprained my ankle 6 months ago, which left me confined to light walking and no running, golfing...no nothing...except mostly watching other people do this.

So there I am...ankle feels great, I'm hitting the ball solid...except for a handful of bad shots... the cause of mental errors (which I poo-poo because after all I am getting older).
Coming up the 5th fairway, I'm ahead of the other players that are about 50 yards behind me (admittedly a mistake...did I mention mental errors?). So there I am, off to the side in the rough, waiting for the other players' shots...when..out of nowhere the hitter cranks a sidewinder that's heat-seeking straight for me! This is a Texas-sized worm-burner with a slight curve (like you see at the bottom of some of those Tequila shots) and there I am, posing with a deer-in-headlights stillness...well except for my brain, which was saying "MOVE!"

Luckily, I had just gotten my new prescription sunglasses, and I could tell with precision that the coming scud-like ball was going to graze one of my ankles...I leapt with uncanny ability...the last time I jumped I was 165 pounds...now, my healed ankle did not ascertain that I now was 175...therefore it was a low jump...the ball whizzed by my right ankle, and nailed the fatty part of my left heel.

I don't know if it was shock or awe...but the hitter comes up to me and says "did it hit your pants"...what?! "Yes it hit may pants...and my leg that was...yes this sounds crazy...IN my pants".

wow, brushed-back in golf...it can happen.

To make a long story incredibly longer...it would have been worse if it weren't for the fact that I played the next 3 holes under par, and I was bought a nice brandy after the round by the hitter.

In the end, I don't ask for much. Just a nice day...good friends to play golf with...

...and a wider fairway.

Thanks for reading. Keep it in the short-grass,

JFB

YouTube had nothing on him.

This week, the media world lost its favorite son Frank Chirkinian.

Not only was he christened the father of televised golf, he was so far ahead of his time, that YouTube legions continue to be inspired by his imagination of camera-use.
From his efforts to show sports at angles that hadn't even been dreamt of, he created a show within the show.
He was the first to put a camera on a blimp to show the game (experimenting with college football at first, then rolling his idea to other events)...which today, still remains, to me at least, one of the best angles in golf...the overhead view of a golf ball as it travels down the fairway, or onto a green.
His showcase for all his talents is on obvious display at The Masters, where he honed and refined his amazing skills...the biggest being his attention to detail. His ability to position cameras that did not take away from the beauty of the event while showing the nuances of what makes Augusta special.

From cameras to microphones in the Lob Lolly pines on the grounds, Bluebirds and Eastern Towhees never sounded so good...

Nature was on display when Frank was in charge.

Thanks for reading. Keep it in the short-grass,

JFB