Mark Your Calendars
Hairy Crab Florida
April 30 - May 3 2020
You are playing in the state championship tournament and your match is all square after 17 holes. You had the honor and hit your drive two hundred and seventy five yards to the middle of the fairway, leaving a an eight iron to the pin. Your opponent hits his drive deep into the woods to the right of the fairway. You help your opponent look for his ball. Just before the permitted five minute search period ends, your opponent says: "Go ahead and hit your second shot and if I don't find it in time, I'll concede the match."
You hit a great 8 iron about ten feet from the pin. You then hear your opponent yell, "I found it!" followed by the sound of a club striking a ball. You opponents ball lands six inches from the pin.
Here is the question:
Do you pull your cheating opponent's ball out of your pocket and confront him or do you keep your mouth shut..??
In My Hand I Hold A Ball,
White And Dimpled, And Rather Small.
Oh, How Bland It Does Appear,
This Harmless Looking Little Sphere.
By Its Size I Could Not Guess
The Awesome Strength It Does Possess.
But Since I Fell Beneath Its Spell,
I've Wandered Through The Fires Of Hell.
My Life Has Not Been Quite The Same
Since I Chose To Play This Stupid Game.
It Rules My Mind For Hours On End;
A Fortune It Has Made Me Spend.
It Has Made Me Curse And Made Me Cry,
And Hate Myself And Want To Die.
It Promises Me A Thing Called Par,
If I Hit It Straight And Far.
To Master Such A Tiny Ball,
Should Not Be Very Hard At All.
But My Desires The Ball Refuses,
And Does Exactly As It Chooses.
It Hooks And Slices, Dribbles And Dies,
And Disappears Before My Eyes.
Often It Will Have A Whim,
To Hit A Tree Or Take A Swim.
With Miles Of Grass On Which To Land,
It Finds A Tiny Patch Of Sand.
Then Has Me Offering Up My Soul,
If Only It Would Find The Hole.
It's Made Me Whimper Like A Pup,
And Swear That I Will Give It Up.
And Take To Drink To Ease My Sorrow,
But The Ball Knows ... I'll Be Back Tomorrow.