Hanging up the Cleats

Last night was one of those few moments in life where you realize you are going to make a decision that will change your life.

I'm not talking about proposing to your future wife, going to law school, or anything that "life-changing." But for me, it was not insignificant. (Note the double negative; proof of my law school experience.)

In a double-header of Eagan middle division corporate softball, I realized I had lost the desire to play any more organized softball. At age 42, after having won state and national championships, and playing more than 150 games and hitting more than 100 home runs in a year (2001), I realized it was time.

I actually had realized it was time a few years ago, but more out of realizing other priorities in my life needed me. So I "subbed" a few times each of the last three years, but this year I agreed to play most of an 18-game season. During the night, and especially at the end of the night, while reflecting back on my team's two wins, I realized my heart wasn't in it...especially, oddly, at the plate.

Maybe someday the fire will rekindle and I'll be talked into playing on a competitive 50+ team. But I doubt it. I'll play hard and try to help the team win the rest of the year.

I've played in some organized men's slow pitch league every year since 1983 except for 1986 (thanks to a misunderstanding about my company's teams that I won't go into here). So perhaps I will suit up ceremoniously for one game each year for a while, just to say I did.

But that will be it. It's been a long run, and I wish I could say it was more fun than it was. More than anything, I enjoy getting better at something I already enjoy, so in that regard, it was very rewarding.

What will I miss most? Playing outfield, which I got to go back to doing this year after dropping some 30 pounds. More than anything, that's what I enjoyed about slow pitch softball, and even more than the home runs and championships, it's what I will miss most. I'm glad I got to do it again for one more year, even if my heart hasn't been in the rest of the game.

My Latest Golf "Fix"

In my last post, I said I'd need mental toughness in the days ahead. I played in the annual Cardinal Classic this past Friday through Sunday, and in an MGA Qualifier yesterday. On a scale of 1 to 10, I think I'd give myself about a 7 overall, with individual days of 7, 4, 6, and 8 respectively.

I'd rather not bore with the details, other than to say I accomplished my goals at the qualifier fo 1) Not embarrassing myself, and 2) Not finishing last. I finished T10 out of 13, shooting an 80. Not my best golf by any means, but my best round in an MGA tournament to date. The course was Minnewaska, a 71.9 rating and a 136 slope, but the MGA may even post it as higher for the difficult tournament conditions.

During the Cardinal Classic, I discovered my latest "fix." I will no longer lift my left heel on the backswing. Not that it's bad to do per se, but that because of softball, I tend to not set the heel back down in the same spot, instead pointing it more forward, thereby causing me to fire my hips too violently, and subjecting myself to bad pulls. I'm still not at the right level of trust yet, but I'm encouraged by what I see so far.

Harvey Penick wrote that lifting the heel is OK if it comes naturally, so I never bothered to change it. But when my playing partner made a comment that I lift my heel "old school" style, I began to think hmmm, maybe THAT's what has been causing my pulls.

Sure enough, when I hit balls after the round, it seemed I was opening up my stance while putting my heel back down during the downswing. We'll see how much this fix improves my game over the next several weeks.

Maybe the money spent on my $299 driver, plus two changes of shafts at about $140 total, would have been better spent on video lessons with a pro...

Mentally tough: Tiger and Rocco and (not) me

On the day of Tiger's fourteenth major victory, it was my third league night of the season. Far from a Tiger-like performance, today was yet another typically unique round for me.

With my three strokes handicap (for nine holes), I did at least win my match. In fact, I hit a few very decent shots, going one-under after two holes in fact. But after hitting what I thought was a good sand wedge into hole three, only to find myself in a hideous lie beyond the green, leading to a double bogey, the wheels somewhat fell off.

Literally, the SkyCaddie fell off. Or fell in rather. On hole four, a par five, I hit a perfect drive and left myself just a good three-wood to the green. But the lie was poor: in the "seam" of two pieces of recently-laid sod. It was a good enough lie for a lay-up with a mid-iron, but of course I pulled out the three wood and dumped the shot, only to learn later that our league plays winter rules. It ended up being a bogey, but worse, somewhere between my third shot and the next tee, I lost my SkyCaddie, and my mind was never into the match after that.

It's too late to make a long story short, but to wrap it up, after asking all the groups behind us if they found it, after borrowing a cart from the course to go back and look for it, after leaving my name and number at the club house, and after looking through my bag inside out, I headed home and called my wife, apologizing for my lateness and somberly telling her about my SkyCaddie.

When I got home, I decided to one more time take my clubs out of the bag, and tip it over. Sure enough, there it was: it was at the bottom of the bag the whole time.

I've been really trying to keep my mental focus sharp for a full round; even just nine holes. I never expected to have my mental toughness tested by the misplacement of a GPS gadget. Today, Rocco Mediate took Tiger to a 91st hole. Tiger of course won despite constant pain from his recently-scoped knee. For either of them, that's mental toughness I could only dream about.

But again, I won my match, so maybe there's some hope. I'm going to need all the toughness I can muster in the days ahead. To be continued...

A Good Electric Cart Ride Spoiled

I played golf yesterday, taking a half-day off from work to join my wife in a sort-of tournament at Loggers Trail in Stillwater. It's a nice course, with bent grass fairways and a reasonable price, but I'm not likely to become a regular patron for a couple reasons.

Before I get into the reasons, let me make it perfectly clear that one of the reasons is not how I played. While I did play poorly (88; 86 after ESC adjustment, for a differential of 13, my worst in a year), I hit plenty of very good shots, and course knowledge will help me play it better next time. I like that kind of challenge, so in that way, I do look forward to playing it again.

What I do not look forward to are the three holes that are doglegs around out-of-bounds stakes. Usually, this is just poor design in my opinion, but I can tolerate it once on a golf course, provided there is a good bail-out option if you don't want to flirt with one of golf's all-time silly rules: the stroke-and-distance penalty for out-of-bounds. There is no such ample bail-out on this course, which brings me to complaint number two: the wild grass.

I enjoy courses with deep fescue as an obstacle, provided that its placement is kept in such a way that you don't feel the need to hit wedge off of every tee just to avoid it. I also enjoy wild grass as a nice, natural hazard on a course, such as Deacon's Lodge near Breezy Point. The wild grass at Loggers Trail, however, is far too plentiful, and as a non-hazard, far too penal to be enjoyable.

Yesterday's five-hour round consisted of about an hour total of ball hunting in our group. Were the wild grass a lateral hazard, we simply would have treated it as such, and made the round in much less time.

I don't think I'm too different from other golfers in that I don't mind taking my one stroke penalty, even several times a round, and dropping near the hazard. No one, however, enjoys having to keep hitting provisionals, hunting for the original in deep grass, only to resort to scrambling to save double bogey. I imagine most golfers would enjoy this course because most golfers would ignore USGA rules in a casual round here and play the wild grass as hazard. But in an outing where the rules must apply, or to a player who likes to keep an honest handicap even in casual rounds, it's no fun.

But I'm sure I'll be returning and aiming to break 80 from the tips. I might want to leave my driver at home for that.

T-snide's Loggers Trail rating: 3 1/2 out of 5, which ain't bad (I'm not the most generous rater).

Watch out for:
- Stroke and distance penalties abound in the wild grass (although I've been told sometimes it's shorter, such as early spring)
- Cut corners by the OB stakes at your peril
- Current clubhouse is a double-wide with just one restroom that sports a non-tinted window with no shades to keep passers-by from peeping or snooping while you're peeing or pooping

Pluses:
- Nice bent grass fairways that are usually fairly generous
- Housing development not a problem (as opposed to Oak Glen, The Wilds, etc.)
- Good price for the quality of course

Happy Birthday Sis

Today is my older sister's birthday, and we're going to Green Mill tonight to celebrate. When I think of my sister, I think of what an influence she was on me growing up. Things I knew when I was, say, six years old, I knew because my sister knew. Like how Ann-Margret was in a terrible accident. She looked so pretty, I thought, but my sister said you could still see the scar. I also knew who the Beatles were, and even learned to like a lot of their songs, long before most of my friends did, who mostly got to know them when John Lennon was killed.

What's amazing to me still today is that she was quite young to know all of this stuff, too. How many eleven-year-olds today know what's going on in the world aas well as my sister did? And I'm not just talking about pop culutre, either, although that was a large part of it. I suppose it makes sense, though, as she did graduate number one in a large metro school. She has the ability and smarts to do anything; I just wish she'd believe it.

My sister used to also share with me what she was learning in school, which gave me quite a head start. I think that's largely why I had enough people fooled into thinking I was some kind of academic prodigy, and why I skipped the second grade.

I remember one time in a music studies class, a fellow student commented how sad it is today (this was in 1991) that music isn't a "family thing" like it had been for our ancestors. The professor asked for anyone in the class to comment on anything music-related from our youth. I raised my hand and said, "The Partridge Family!"
"And what about the Partridge Family do you remember?," he asked.
"Well...my sister and I..."
"You see?," he asked the fellow student.
"Yeah, but," she started to respond, without really being able to finish.

I still like the Partridge Family, thanks to my sister (and I don't hold that against her one bit!) I especially like the fact that, at 42, I have memories most people five years older than me do not. And when I'm reminded of them, right away I think of my sister.

Happy Brithday, Sis!

Here we go...

Never mind what to post, how should my free blog look? I chose my 2 1/2 year-old's favorite color...orange. Everything has to be orange with him. Open a 64-count box of Crayola's, and he'll grab orange right away, without fail.

He digs that my softball jersey is orange. He's also learning to swing a bat and golf club pretty well. I am going to resist telling him they make orange golf balls for as long as I can.

And what to name this blog? T-Snide with the hyphen, without, all lower case, some capitalization...oh, the choices! Long before there was T-Hud or A-Rod, and J-Lo was just Jenny from the block, a co-worker nicknamed me T-Snide. Not T-Schneid, as would be truly in line with my real name, and what some choose to call me. So I'll go with that, and while I historically have not hyphenated it, I've been changing that trend in recent years.

OK, that's just uncomfortable talking about my name that much. Let that be the last of it.

And welcome to my new blog. Orange you glad you came?