Velcro two pups under your armpits. Antiperspirant! But not deodorant, unless you smell so bad that the stench of sweaty arm-poodles is a marked improvement.
Find the world’s youngest mama poodle and the world’s youngest papa poodle. Breed them. Continue this for generations until your poodles breed at ridiculous speeds. Velcro them into the grain bin. You’ve just made real-life Tribbles!
Take a DNA sample from your poodle and inject it into a piece of fossilized amber. Velcro the injection site closed. Find and climb a previously-thought unclimbable mountain and stick it up there somewhere. Add “anthropology” to the list of professions you’ve messed with.
Velcro poodle’s front paws to stakes at one end of the Grand Canyon. Stretch him and attach rear legs to stakes at the other end. Congratulations! You’ve just made a bridge! Oh, really? It’s that wide, huh? Okay. Enjoy your really long tightrope.
Velcro poodle to the United States’ growing deficit. People will be so distracted by the deficit’s cuteness that they’ll forget all about the unfathomable financial hole we’ve dug for future generations. (Note: may have to replace every 10-15 years or else people will be in for quite the shock.)
Once upon a time, King Poodle, ruler of the north, received a divorce decree from Queen Poodle, Velcroed to the portcullis of his stately manse. With it was a writ of alimony called for by the Serjeant-at-law Rex Von Dachshund. In his rage, the King stormed into the Queen’s quarters, absconding with her two crowns, the one for Festivus and the one bequeathed to her at her commemoration. He cast them into the Fires of Canus, scheming to apply their molten residue as the seal for a missive he would use to tell her to politely bugger off. The Queen, ever erudite, had already replaced her golden crowns with fire-retardant replicas, rendering them impervious to the incendiary plot. Thus it was spake by all generations that followed: Yankee Poodle bent two crowns fighting alimony.
Divide poodle by Velcro. No matter how big the poodle or how long the Velcro, you’ll always get pi. It’s math, people.
Go see your new therapist. Take the required pills. Let go of Britney, Mitsy. Let go of everything that was Velcroing you down. Set goals. Realize that this is a process, that the journey will be long, but there is a destination.
Waterboard your poodle. Now I know what you’re thinking, and yes, this time I am asking you to torture your poodle. He pooped all over my stash of Velcro.
Remember when you made that novelty weather vane? You should, it was just yesterday. Well, attach many tiny electrodes to the poodle. Attach them via Velcro to a massive superconductive battery. Carve a small recess into the poodle’s abdomen to install the LED interface. Now I know what you’re thinking, but you’ve got to stop thinking I’m asking you to torture your poodle! I would never! It’s just that the weather vane wasn’t very effective, so now you have a working anemometer.
Make a tiny gallows. Hang strip of Velcro from it. Attach poodle. Now I know what you’re thinking, but don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions! Install your gallows on top of an old schoolhouse somewhere. You’ve just made a novelty weather vane.
You call Britney. You tell her you’re sorry. She says it’s too late. You know, you say. You’ve enrolled in a carpentry class. It’s simple stuff. You’re going to make a door stop shaped like Mitsy. Britney tells you that you need help, not a carpentry class. You think maybe that’s true. You hang up the phone and tell Ben this is your last night staying at his place. You pop a piece of Velcro in your mouth and try to find anything to keep you from vanishing.
The owners were kind enough. They let you stay the night on their fold-out. You promise that you’re stable, that you’re doing well. You don’t tell them you followed an imaginary dog and snacked on Velcro strips. You tell them it’s all going to be okay. In the morning, they’ll find the thank you note and the guest sheets neatly folded.
You followed the poodle deep into the night. By the time you catch up, the sun has set and risen. You wish you had some bacon – Mitsy loved bacon – but all you have are strips of velcro. The dog has stopped by a house. You recognize it despite the renovations, new paint, new landscaping, new owners. This was Britney’s place before you guys decided to move in together. The only trace of your lives here is the address. How did you get here? Where did that dog go?
There’s a two day gap in your memory. One minute you were leaving to hike Benedict Canyon, the next you’re coughing up a molar in a Long Beach public bathroom. What day is it? The 26th? It seems like yesterday was the 24th. What happened in those two days? And why is your wallet filled only with Velcro? What’s going on? Maybe that poodle knows.
Velcro a bucket over your head and poodles to your wrists. Now spin around like a whirlwind singing OooooEEEEoOOeeeeAAAh in your bucket. Now get out of the street. You’re holding up traffic.
Ghost stories not scary enough? Try using poodles and velcro as your campfire s’mores!
What, did you seriously think you wouldn’t get a recap of this year’s King of the Lake? Like I did in 2017? And 2016? And 2014? And 2011? And 2010? And 2009? And 2008? You get the point. As I pointed out in last year’s recap, I shoot the King very well in even numbered years. Would that continue?
ROUND 1: TAHOE VISTA
I’m going to eschew my normal hole-by-hole recap because, let’s be honest, nobody reads all that crap. My back did not feel great but I was well rested and rearing to go. I start on hole 1 with a great card of people I like playing with. And the course is set up TO SCORE WELL (the hot round would come in at a 48, or -10).
Remember in my pre-tourney blog, I mentioned my putter had gone cold of late? I start off on hole 1 (a must-deuce) and throw it 25′ left. Not ideal, but it’s a tester. And I throw a terrible putt that sneaks in the right corner for a no-chains birdie. I actually really needed that, something to build on and not have a feeling of “oh no, here comes the bad putting again!” Hole 2 I clip some cabbage and leave myself 50′ short. I MAKE that big putt. Okay, hopefully that’s a sign of things to come.
I throw 3 pars and then start to click. I nearly ace hole 6, settling for a drop-in deuce. I birdie the very easy par-4 hole 7, followed by an easy birdie on 8. Hole 9 I throw what I think is a park-job, only to see I’m 20′ short on a pretty sharp uphill lie. No matter, I BANG I…. no, I miss. Just short. That’s something that happened a LOT this weekend – a shot that I really thought I made did not go in.
I birdie 10, 11 (with a sick 50+ putt), and 13. Followed with a par. I get the tough hole 15 (in fact, we had a star frame – all of us birdied – on it!) and a drop-in on 16. Hole 17, I take the cheaty-thumber route and it hits 5′ from the basket! Only I get a lousy role and have a 30+ foot putt, which I just miss low (I also thought I made that one). Par to finish.
That put me at a… would you look at that? 48! Did I forget to mention I was one of the people who threw the hot round? It certainly didn’t feel like it, especially since I missed a short putt and had a really bad break. It CERTAINLY didn’t feel like a 1021-rated round, which it currently is. Scary to know that, with those two breaks and a better 3rd throw on hole 18, I could have thrown a 1050+ rated round.
So that put me in…
FIRST PLACE?!?!?! Really? I was playing against Robert Bainbridge in my division, a 1001-rated golfer who I fully expected to run away with this thing. Okay, so I’m leading after 1 round. Okay.
ROUND 2: BIJOU
I take some more Alleve as my back is really starting to bother me. We start on hole 11 (old guys start on later holes than the young pros). I throw a great drive and have a 25′ death putt. Robert is looking at a likely bogey, so I decide to play safe and not go for it. Robert cans his par and I look like an idiot for not trying to make the putt, especially since my putter was great up until this point. Then I throw a bogey on the difficult hole 12 and miss the stupidly easy hole 13. The bogey on 12 was my first of the tournament.
Ummm, not how I’d draw up the start of round 2.
I take a drop-in par on 14 and then NEARLY ace the 420′ downhill hole 15 (it must have just hyzered in front). Birdie, par, par, par. Ending up even to par after those holes is okay, but definitely not great.
I birdie 1, par 2 and 3. Hole 4 is a new position I’ve never seen, labelled as 400+ feet. I crush my katana on a great line, but it hits a guardian – normally I need ALL of my distance to try to get over 400′, even on a downhill hole. I give an audible show of frustration. But the tree actually stops the disc well and it curls around the basket for an easy birdie. So yeah, that hole is mis-labelled (I’d estimate it at 350′, a little downhill). I have a great par save on hole 5, a near birdie on the tough six (I thought it was in, but it was just high), a good birdie on 7, and a very nearly great putt on 8 (another one I thought was in – it hit top link, off the cage, and out). I hit a long putt on 9 for birdie and finish with a par.
Zephyr is an interesting course. You can shoot well there, but there aren’t many GIMME birdies (like at Vista or the other KotL course, Bijou). You have to earn them, and you have to limit the bleeding. I had one bogey and five birdies. The -4 ended up being more than solid (unofficially 990 rated!) The problem is, Robert did what Robert does: shot a -9, giving him a 4-stroke lead going into the final round.
This is important. I’m in second, only 4 strokes off the lead in my division of 19. One guy is 3 strokes behind me, but I have a 7-stroke cushion over 4th place. I just need a good night’s sleep and there’s an off chance I could win this thing, since Bijou’s a course I can string some good holes together. At the very worst, I am looking at an unprecedented top 3 finish
I go to bed at 9:30. And basically toss and turn the entire night. I did briefly dream, meaning I did briefly sleep, but I’d estimate I got somewhere between 1-2 hours. NO! I never play well when I’m tired!
Also, I had to take a pain pill because I was so tired. Even though I felt relaxed, I didn’t sleep. Worse yet, when I woke up, my back was ON FIRE, and not in an EN FUEGO way. But hey, at least not in the literal way either.
FINAL ROUND: BIJOU
This is a monster 30-hole layout and it’s set up medium. Which still means PLENTY of birdie opportunities. I straggle in, dead tired and hoping the adrenaline of competing on top card (and a 5-hour energy drink) help me finish strong. Lots of stretching and we’re off, starting on hole 9.
Now my goal is to keep top 3, especially knowing the back issues, the lack of sleep issues, and the personal issues I’m trying very hard to ignore during the round. In the first dozen holes or so, I definitely lose strokes to Tony (who was only 3 behind me at the start) and Nate (who was 7 behind but closing). I’m about even with Robert for the round (and still 4 back for the tourney). Serge, who unfortunately had a rough round, became a non-issue early. In that span I did hit 4 birdies in a row (12, 12a, 12b, and 13) but still lost ground to Nate and Tony.
Then I proceed to play pretty okay golf. At around the halfway point, I realize Robert still has me by about 4, and I’m probably tied with Tony or close to it. But I’m hanging in there. And I willed myself to overcome my fatigue and my back. If I don’t win this, I want it to be because I was too aggressive, not because I was too careful.
The middle of the round I throw a few more birdies and am starting to gain ground on Robert, with Tony also hanging around. Nate falls back because of some bad lack. By the time we hit hole 27, I think it’s pretty close to a 3-way tie. I am the only one to birdie hole 27 (on a SICK crush that did see a little bit of luck come my way). Best yet, my putter was BACK. During the round I missed 4 or 5 putts from 40-60′, but ALL of them were barely misses, most of which I thought I made when they left my hand. I stopped missing altogether from inside the 33′ circle.
At this point, I’m playing VERY well, so I stop looking just to get top 3 (which is all but guaranteed) and try to actually win this thing, Bainbridge or no Bainbridge. He birdies hole 1, but I’m the only one to hit hole 2. Hole 3 is a star frame (all birdies). Holes 4 and 5 are both par-frames. Hole 6 I throw a very good drive but SLIGHTLY low – I hit the LAST sagebrush (1′ higher on my throw and I’m probably very close to parked – instead I have a 60′ putt). I don’t know exactly where we all stand in terms of total score, but I know it’s close. I figure I have to make the putt. WHICH I DO. Putter EN FUEGO (the good kind).
Robert and Tony also birdie (Tony’s putt was only a few inches closer than mine). Hole 7 I start out with a PARK JOB (less than 3′ from basket). But so does Tony. Robert throws it wide, he’ll have a 30′ par putt. Long story short, that’s another star frame.
So our last hole is hole 8. I know me, Robert, and Tony are all within a stroke or two, but I’m not sure exactly where. Hole 8 is a very easy hyzer hole (at least easy to put yourself in the circle and in no danger of going out-of-bounds – it’s a little trickier to park it). I SHOULD have looked at the scorecard, but I was playing so aggressively and well that I figured I needed a birdie no matter what, so I go for the tighter park-job. And I hit an early tree, leaving myself a 60′. Robert puts his drive within 25′, Tony within 15.
Okay, now I gotta look at the scorecard, see if I should run the 60′ putt (with OB behind the basket – probably not in play, but it could be if I skipped off the top of the basket). Turns out I was tied with Robert going into the hole, and 2 ahead of Tony overall. So now the whole tourney comes down to this putt. I need to make it to force a push (I assume Robert will make his 25′ putt, as he rarely missed from there).
I run it, but alas, come up just short. Robert hits his for the win. Tony hits his for 3rd place, one stroke behind me.
So, another even year, another good showing. No, not good. This was the best tournament of my life, by far. I threw 27 birdies, 38 pars, and one bogey. My drives were great, my scrambles, the few I had at any rate, were top notch, and I rarely had any trouble. My putting was well above average, although it wasn’t quite as lights-out as Robert would have you believe. It was a weapon, though, and not a liability.
I missed being KING of my division by 1 stroke. In fact, if I was still playing Open, I would have also tied for 2nd there (being only 2 strokes behind the best score of the entire tournament). Of course, that means I would have made more prize money had I played Open. D’oh!
I honestly can’t complain. I averaged a 1005-rating for the three rounds (I think I’ve only ever averaged a touch above 980 for an entire tournament once). My up shots were easy. My putts were reliable. And more importantly, I had fun. I had no expectations going in given my current life situation; I just wanted to have fun. Shooting lights out helps, but I did just enjoy myself.
This also bought me some more tournaments. I was considering hanging up the discs for the year, but this extra spending cash bought me some peace of mind. I’ll be back at Bijou in 3 weeks. Hopefully my back will have healed up by then.
Last night, you dreamed of Mitsy. She was running in a field of Velcro – happy enough, but she kept getting snagged. Little bits of fur were tearing away until she was just skin, still trying to smile and be a good dog. And then you realized that you were the field of Velcro, that no matter how you tried to hold her, you just ended up hurting her. And that’s just who you are – a field built of tiny hooks designed only to give pain. You decide not to go to work today. Instead, you go for a hike. Maybe the fresh air will do you good.
Listen to Ben’s day. Try not to let your mind wander. That’s right. You’re a good friend and a good listener. Time to split the check. He’s still telling you about his problems with his boss, Barb, who’s just out of college. Open your wallet. There’s that photo – Britney, Mitsy, and you. You were happy once. UnVelcro it from the wallet – try not to let Ben see your eyes water, just look at the check. Slowly crumple the photo in your palm, then let go. Ben’s looking at you, waiting for some kind of response. “F- Barbie,” you say. Ben nods.