Wilson: I had quite a good round after all

It stood in the corner, reminding me of so many mornings I found better things to do. But today was Labor Day, and I really had nothing better to do than hit the city par 3 golf course.

Since I returned to New Mexico from vacation with a set of clubs at the end of July, I’d intended to shoot a round or two. I know I’ll never get to the

PGA Tour, but I do owe it to my dad — who surprised me with the clubs — to be decent the next time we play a round.

I figured my best way to learn was not on a 400-yard par 5, but on a smaller course where I could be on the green in one shot. I packed a Gatorade in the bag and made the short drive to Hillcrest Park.

As I walked out to the course, my reminders of small-course golf took me back to a “Simpsons” episode where Bart is a mini-golf prodigy and Homer watches his shot go down the wrong pipe, roll off the course and to the other side of the adjacent four-lane highway. Bart scores the match with the course’s six-stroke-per-hole limit and reads his father’s score as, “Six plus six plus six plus six plus six plus ...”

I looked at the sign for the first hole ... less than 100 yards. I already knew I wouldn’t be using the driver today, and went a few clubs down. The hybrid should work just fine as today’s driver.

First hole, not a problem. I played conservatively, and got there in five.

Second hole, I decided to let it rip. The swing was straight and powerful. The ball didn’t hook, or slice, or land until it went over the hole, over the fence and over the two-lane road adjacent to the park. I reached for a second ball and my Gatorade ... only to find it fell out of the bag during my drive.

The next few holes, my frustrations built up like my thirst. Finding my ball was difficult in the thick grass. I was either swinging too softly in the rough or too hard near the green.

Once I finished the fifth hole, though, a calm came over me. You’re more than halfway done. You’re finishing your round from here on out.

My shot number was still high, but so were my spirits. Let’s tee off with the 5-iron. Use the pitching wedge to putt. Use the putter to get out of the rough.

Before too long, I sank my final putt — OK, I four-putted it — and I was just as relieved nobody saw me as I was to be done.

As I left the course, with heavy breaths and a drenched visor, I ran across Parks and Recreation Director Mark Dayhoff, who was grabbing some boxes from the closed concession stand. After a friendly hello, he proffered, “Wow, you picked the worst day to shoot.”

The course was due for mowing the next day, and he correctly assumed the land was a jungle with recent rains. No worries, I assured him, as the only ball I lost was somewhere in asphalt.

With my clubs packed, I reached into the back of my car until my hand gripped a still-cold Gatorade bottle. I’d done quite well by my standards — one ball and two tees lost.

As for my score? Let’s all say it together: Six plus six plus six plus six plus six plus ...

Kevin Wilson is managing editor for the Clovis News Journal. He can be contacted at 575-763-3431, ext. 320, or by email:

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