Golf balls, like living some dream, can be elusive. Particularly when the first tee is backed up in the morning, and you pull out the driver hoping to put some space between yourself and those behind. You should know better, because the grass is not only greenest, but at its thickest, around fairway numero uno. Or so it seems.
By the time you hit the turn, chances are you are playing it safe or staring at your umteenth press.
Just don’t let either become your sole mode of operation, ad infinitum.
MG signing off (because whining about spring runoff is ghey)