As you ease into your weekend on this fine Friday, I offer you my thoughts and feelings from a round well-enjoyed in Birmingham, Alabama.
Dearest Oak Mountain,
I can’t say I was expecting much from you.
I heard whispers around the neighborhood of you being the “cheapest in town,” an “average muni,” not much “a looker.”
Maybe it was these whispers that made way for pleasant surprise when I met you face to face.
Clean tee boxes, well-kept fairways, and greens that somehow balanced speed with sponginess in a way I’ve yet to see.
My time with you was certainly aided by the change of the weather from afternoon to evening. A blistering 90 degree Alabama day turned into a peaceful, calming early finish, less the mosquitos who were desperate for a bite.
You were gracious to me on occasion, though we wrestled on the greens. While my tee shots and ball striking were both as solid as I could have hoped, 43 putts may have been a high for me in my entire past year. It was a miracle I shot an 89.
My statistics during our time spent together:
11 fairways hit
10 green in regulation
43 putts
You can imagine my frustration with you. Though most of my birdie putts were from forever away, to go zero for ten is quite the heartbreaking result.
I feel as though you lured me in with a round of good driving, smooth iron shots, and blissful sounds of the south.
Then you created distance between us.
My performance on the greens could have been enough to say good riddance, deterring me from wanting to return ever again.
But it was not enough. It’s as though the hurt made my heart long to return. Perhaps I should seek help for a feeling like this. I want to return to show you that I can best you in a way that I did not this past Sunday evening.
Ultimately, you showed me an old-fashioned good time, and you’ve left me something to prove. I intend to prove it.
Yours truly,Luke Mangan
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