Instead of watching college basketball yesterday, I decided to get out the sticks for the first time this spring.
Cue the Guinness guys: Brilliant!
While one of my upsets delivered (Western Kentucky over Illinois) and one of my Final Four teams inexplicably pratfalled (Clemson?!), I carded a fresh 76 at Cowboys Golf Club in Grapevine. Four birdies, including three consecutive to climax a 34 on the front nine.
Glorious day. Sun was shining. Birds chirping. Putts falling.
I was 1-under after 11 and headed toward the best round of my career when I made two fatal decisions ...
Decided to check some hoops scores, and saw Clemson trailing Michigan by double-digits. This, of course, turned my stomach. But nothing compared to what followed.
Adjacent to the 12th tee at CGC is a tantalizing smoke shack. The foot-long jalapeno sausage sandwich was delicious, but also debilitating. My ensuing drive sailed right into some mulch. My approached shot rocketed off the cart path.
Double-bogey. Triple-indigestion. I was +5 the final seven holes.
Not complaining. I'm about a 12-handicapper who was hoping to break 85. I'll take a 76 any day, especially when it's kicking my opponents' ass (just happened to be my 69-year-old dad) and when it includes luxurious CGC amenities like a refreshing post-round Mango towel (not making that up) and bathroom paper towels more luscious than my bed sheets.
So if Clemson ruined your bracket, go out today and shoot 76. Guarantee you'll feel better instantly.