The Daily Lie

Spent the weekend at Lake Travis. It was brutally hot and dry; the wind flet like a giant hair dryer blowing in your face. Played nine holes with Richard in the morning when it was only 85 degrees and rising fast–not too bad. Then played 18 with Jaybird, teeing off at five. It 105, same wind; and we had the whole course to ourselves. Worst thing was, the lake is so low, it was too far to go jump into it to call off like we used to. Long story short, we lived!

When we lived in the community of Spicewood Beach, out by Lake Travis, the lake, golf course, and lakeside picnic cabanas were the gathering place for the people we liked to hang out with. We’d have barbecues down there almost every summer weekend; I’d fire up my trusty Weber grill, and everyone would bring whatever meat they wanted cooked. Of course, the cooking could not start until I’d finished my daily round of golf on our little, self-maintained, nine-hole course. It wasn’t much of a course, compared to “real” golf courses, but it was free, never crowded, and right next to the lake.

There were a couple of tee-boxes that were close enough to the water, that on really hot days we could run over and jump into the lake for a quick cool-me-off then continue with our round. Yes, we wore our swimsuits when we played golf. The only hassle was the taking off and putting back on of the golf shoes. A lot of us didn’t even where golf shoes in the summer—just wore running shoes, or even sandals—because they were just too, darn much trouble. Footjoy came out with some golf sandals that were the rage in Spicewood Beach for obvious reason, but they changed them after a couple of years, and the new design wasn’t near as comfortable as the old.

Anyway, I bet nobody out there can tell me of a course where you can jump in the water to cool off—without getting thrown off the course.

The Spicewood Beach course is unique in other ways, too. No tee time is needed; you can start on any hole you want, you can take your dog along, and you can bring your own cooler packed with your favorite cold beverage.

We had some unorthodox rules, many of which was established by yours truly. We truly made things up as we went along. One such rule was that it was permissible to move your ball when you were in the fairway, and your ball was not on grass. You see, we did not have a watering system on the fairways—we only watered the greens—and so during the dry, hot summer, the fairways would be pretty much desert-like. So, we decided it was okay to move the ball onto a piece of grass—typically it was a very dry piece of grass—so you didn’t have to hit the ball off of the dry, hard ground. Makes sense to me!

Another one I came up with was the “daily lie”. This one was derived from a tongue-in-cheek remark I made one day when my ball had gone into some tall dry weeds, and I was unable to find it. I walked back to the fairway, got another ball from my bag, and dropped onto the fairway. My buddy Jaybird watched this curiously, and as I selected a club, he asked, “Hey, bub, what’re you doing?”

“I’m taking my “daily lie”, I said, pulling a club from my bag and walking over to the ball.

“You gonna add a stroke to your score?”

“Nope,” I said, taking a practice swing.

He sat up straight in his seat on the golf cart and said, “So, how’s that work?”

“I told you,” I said, I took a mighty swing at the ball, and sent it soaring much too, high, and watched dust explode where it hit, about a hundred yards from us. I looked at Jaybird and said, “You messed me up with all that chatter.”

“My bad,” he said, no sincerity at all in the statement. “But, what’s this daily lie thing?”

“Okay,” I said. Here’s the rule: when your ball is in a really bad place, or you can’t find it, you can drop a second ball in the fairway, but no closer to the hole than where you last saw your ball, and say that’s where you hit the first ball.”

“But,” he said, removing his cowboy hat, and scratching his head. “That’s not true.”

I slammed my club into my bag, then plopped into the driver’s seat of the cart. I looked at him and said, “That’s exactly what I said, fool. It’s my daily “lie”!”

His eyes lit up as what I was saying sunk in, and he shouted, “I’m in!” We high-fived, acknowledging the brilliance of my new rule, then sped down the fairway in search of his ball, dust roiling behind us.


  1. Sherry said

    You’d think the golf scores would have been better . . .

  2. Becky said

    The part of golf I like the most is the driving the cart part… that’s bad isn’t it? 😉

  3. Hahaha.. your rule, your lie! 🙂

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