Month: August 2013

The moment of truth had finally arrived. It was the biggest golfing event of the year, the annual Rijnmond Open Golf Tournament. This was something I had been looking forward to for the whole year. From the championship back tees, playing against the big boys, many of them young low handicappers, less than half my age and less than half my handicap.

There I was going strong with a nice even par thirty-six on the front nine. Just coasting along fine and after thirteen holes still moving smoothly at even par. Only five holes to go, just keep your cool and stay in the zone my friend. Never before since I was a kid had I made it so far along in an official tournament with such a great round of golf at even par.

Trying not to think.

That's when I started thinking. Never do that, it'll kill you off just like that. I started thinking and figured that no matter what might happen, at least I'd break eighty. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Which was my goal for the tournament, to shoot in the seventies, just once. Anything is possible in golf, and the round is never finished until the little white golf ball falls in the eighteenth hole at the very last putt of the day. Nothing can go wrong now.

But it did, unfortunately. Fame and fortune would have to wait for another day ...

It all started with an easy second shot to the par four fourteenth hole, just a half-swing seven iron to the green. Hit the ball a little fat and pulled it slightly to watch it bounce into the left sand trap. Bogie. After that it was down hill all the way. Bogie, bogie, double-bogie and on the last hole a stellar quadruple-bogie eight, right in front of the crowd.

Funny how they even clapped politely when I putted it in for an eight. Little did they realize the terrible mental torture I had been going through, I just smiled and acted as if I was having a really great time. Holding my ball up high and raising my golfing cap to them all in thanks.

From even par to nine over par in only five holes, I wonder how that is possible. I guess I will never know, even if I replay those disastrous shots in mind head over and over and over again.

My final score was: 82 + 85 + 80 = 247 (10 strokes higher than last year).

The collection of books by George R.R. Martin.

Alright so perhaps I got a bit excited after seeing the first video and reading two hundred pages of book one. In a whim I ordered the whole set which was delivered to my doorstep the other day. These seven massive volumes should keep me well occupied for quite some time.

There are a number of rituals in life that can be conducted in order to cut the symbolic ties with the past. These rituals are always painful, but at the same time they are very necessary in order to move on in life. By nature, I am one who postpones the inevitable as long as possible, especially when it comes to distancing myself from my past. I remain very attached to the way things were, can get pretty sentimental about the most trivial memories, collect useless memorabilia and hate to throw anything away for fear of who knows what. Discarding items is so definite, and once they are thrown away, there's no way ever to get them back again.

Take for instance my computers and stuff. Believe it or not, I have saved every single computer, laptop, mouse, keyboard, router, hub, floppy disc, monitor, printer, scanner, cable, video card, hard disk, on and on. I still have my very first computer which is more than twenty years old. A state-of-the-art 386 PC and I was the first one in my neighborhood to have one. I also kept my very first laptop. A heavy bulk of a Toshiba shaped like an over-sized brick. All that hardware and cables have been collecting dust in dark corners, turning yellow and rotting away for ages, waiting to be let go. If only I would ever give them the chance.

So this morning I went through all my drawers, closets, boxes, and grabbed every piece of hardware and cable I could find. I carried those poor souls downstairs, filled the trunk of my car, the back and front seats. I went to the dump on the other side of town, and with tears in my eyes I tossed all those fine memories into the dumpster, watching them crash and splinter. There I was thanklessly discarding those wonderful pieces of technology which have meant so much to me. Thanks very much for being part of my life, good bye and see you later.

The big cleanup action took a little less than two hours. I've freed up so much extra room I do not know what to do with it all. Empty spaces waiting to be filled up again with the new fangled objects of my future. Like some kind of catharsis, I feel liked I've been relieved from a tremendous burden weighing me down. It's time to move on in life, stop getting dragged down by the past, face forward and reach out. Here we go again.

[This is my 2000th blog entry]

I spend a good portion of my waking hours just sitting in my car. About two or more hours each day. Sometimes it is more and sometimes less. During winter even the highways are blocked by heavy traffic, and in the summer I can fly like a bird since most people are away on vacation. On average I am spending more than ten percent of my conscious life driving to and from work. I pass the time by listening to my music on my mp3-player, catching up on the latest news and talk shows on the radio, preparing myself mentally for the day ahead or re-living the day's activities in my head. The daily meditation and mental retrospective. What did I do well, what do I need to improve, what is the purpose of life, is there such a thing as reality, am I really the center of the universe, those kinds of thoughts.

So I felt pretty darn confident going into today's round for the Monthly Medal tournament. Hitting the ball pretty solid, my swing a fluid arch and my mind clear and ready to kill. A par on the first hole was a good start and got me going just fine. On the second hole I chipped the ball right next to the flag, so I thought. My fellow players yelled great shot, could be real close. Got to the top of the rise and the green was without any balls. We couldn't find my ball anywhere, finally way back behind the green amongst the trees, the ball must have bounced off of a sprinkler head or something. Bogie on two, followed with a par, par going into the par five fifth. Crunched my drive right down the middle splitting the fairway in half, and put my second shot right in front of the green looking at another possible birdie. Shanked that into the lake at an angle of ninety degrees, huh? All shaken up and afraid for another shank, skulled the ball to the left, where somehow I luckily pulled off a shot from the bunker for a one putt double bogie. After that it was down hill. Easy approach on par four nine wedge headed right down the smoke stack but hits half a meter short of the green and spins back into the sand trap, double-bogie there. Shanked another ball on the simple par three eleventh hole for another double-bogie, had only one lousy par on the back nine, how's that possible? Forty-four plus forty-four makes eighty-eight mighty strokes. How can I remain positive? Well, I only lost one ball (that shank in the water) and I didn't have any triple-bogies. Golf sucks again, I think I'm going to quit and take up gardening which is much less stressful.

"Improving daily work is even more important than doing daily work."

- Total Productive Maintenance

So I was able to play in the Dutch Nationaal Matchplay Kampioenschap Heren. With my 4.2 handicap I was able just to squeeze by because of other cancellations to become number sixty-three out of sixty-four entrants. Not that I expected to get very far, but I was really intent on doing my best and felt very excited about the whole ordeal.

As it turns out my first match was against this big athletic-looking guy who had a two handicap. On the first hole I powered my drive right down the middle, popped my eight iron onto the green and just missed my birdie putt for a par. Already one up after the first hole.

After that fine moment things became more challenging. I was hitting the ball pretty well except there you go again I was pulling my long irons way left, hit a drive out of bounds, and once even hit a wrong ball (automatic loss of hole in matchplay). I asked him if it had my mark on it, and he said yes that it was a Titleist 2 with a black cross on it. Not. I should have checked anyway and not trusted him, oh well be more careful the next time.

For the front nine I was hanging in there pretty good only one down, so I had a chance. However, the rest was history and he blew me away, in the end winning four of the next five holes to win 5-3. Bummer, better luck next year.