State09 -- Day Two
05/21/09
Apparently my comparing the Warrior golf team with a
3-year old filly was too accurate: Mine that
Bird didn't win the Preakness and Cleveland didn't win
the State Championship. The guys left it all on the
course but they couldn't best the three teams ahead of
us from the first day. They also couldn't get the
better of the course. More than one junior begged that
it be held at a different venue next year. (They're in
luck as it moves to Quail Valley up near Portland next
year, so far as I know.) They never looked comfortable
on the Emerald Valley greens and their scores reflected
that unease.
We arrived at the course an hour before Paul was to tee it up. Some rain was falling as we drove from Eugene so the fellas had to gear up. Except Conor. 'I don't have any raingear. I don't even have pants.' I've got some. 'You do? Awesome.' Between that and my Cleveland™ hat that he was wearing, Conor's wardrobe was pretty much sponsored by Coach Richman.
The galleries were out en force as Jeff's folks were back for a second day, Conor's mom and grandpa were back for more, Conor's girlfriend and her mom and sister watched the front nine, Jonathan's mom, dad and grandpa came down for the day and Michael's whole fam made the journey for day two. Their support has been unwavering all these years and it is certainly appreciated by this coach. I know the boys like it, too, but they're sixteen, seventeen and eighteen and they can't show it right now. In eleven years (give or take) they'll be able to say 'Thanks.'
Paul waged a quiet, merciless war with his putter throughout the day. 'My putter is betraying me,' he said after the 8th. I saw him three-putt that one, 9 and 14. The greens were a smidge slower what with the rain overnight and the sprinkles from the morning, but that's like saying Carmelo is a smidge smaller than K-mart--it's a matter of degrees, or stimps in this case. The rest of his game couldn't counteract his pitiful flatstick so his day was frustrating. He slapped his forehead more than a V-8 commercial.
Michael played like a submarine sandwich served up hot on the docks in Boston: he was a grindah. 42-42 with nothing working but his ethic. On 14 he was 180 yards from the elevated green, ball above his feet and sitting down a little bit in the first cut. His 4-iron was as smooth as Frank Sinatra as it bounced twice in front of the green then rolled to fifteen feet. His 84 showed his determination to post the best score he could on that day.
Jeff played with a confidence befitting his back-nine 38 yesterday as he started 39 today. Unfortunately neither he nor any of his teammates mastered the 4th hole with its back left pin. Jeff hit the best approach but it hit the middle of the green and spun all the way back to the fairway. His chip was two revolutions from staying on the proper shelf but ultimately it fell down low, too. His iron was a little loose and a little right on 5 as it caught the front trap. He got up and down from twelve feet to regain his momentum. On the backside I was occupied by trying to keep Conor's spirits up and I had nothing but confidence in Jeff's back-nine prowess at EValley, so I let him be. On 14 he came out of the swale short right of the green and skied his ball sideways over everything. It hit the tree above me and landed eighteen inches in front of my shoes. Again, I was not bothered in the least. Alas, Jeff was. He stumbled on 13, 14 and 15.
Actually, I was caught even more off guard than I'm letting on. When he came in after his round I walked into the tent just as they were reading his score. I heard the nine individual numbers and then '39.' I thought, Nice, he backed up his first nine with another 39. Then the official read nine more numbers, including a 6-8-6 pu-pu platter. Wait a minute, I watched him thread the needle on 13 after an errant drive. He was in pretty good shape. On 15 I glanced at his ball heading over the green (as did Conor's) and still I had a warm fuzzy feeling in my tummy. But the magic--like the rain--was gone.
Conor was ready to go out like a champ. Our own Rocky Marciano, our Al McGuire, our (trying to find a more recent reference than 1977 but can't because no one seems to retire after they've reached the pinnacle of their sport anymore.) That 36 put him in good stead. But his 43 was uncharacteristic, to say the least. Conor said it succinctly: 'I haven't shot a score like that since freshman year.' (A slight exaggeration, but appropriate for it's dramatic effect.) Then he goes out and posts a 44 on the front. 'You should sub Nick for me.' (Funny, that's what Paul said three groups earlier.) He had fewer breaks than a surfer on a windless day plus his putting was not as consistent as it was yesterday. As I mentioned, I made the decision to follow him around the back. It was his last nine holes for us, he had done so many great things for this team and I know he was dejected. I realize that the same could be said about Paul, but the only person he wants checking on his game is his brother, John. (What up, Johnny Lambert?) I would've caused some pentajacks, I just know it. So Conor was the beneficiary of my watchful gaze. On 12 he yelled 'Fore' from the tee as it was heading directly at the marshal assisting by the stream on the left. His ball hit a tree at least thirty feet up and caromed softly onto the short stuff. But his chip from just short of the green came up well short and he couldn't convert for par. I spoke to him in between holes and suggested he de-loft his wedge and run the ball a bit more as uphill he is not getting a lot of roll. He gave me the perfunctory 'Yeah' then blasted his three-wood down the right side on 14. On 15 he was concerned about his draw putting him through the fairway, even with a three-wood. We decided he should aim at the big tree on the right. He did and it drew just before whacking it. That shot was sight to behold. Too bad he overshot the damn green from eighty yards or what not. After 16 I left him to see how morale was in the clubhouse. (Um, not so hot.) But when he came in to the 18th green, he was as stoic as ever. Just off the front edge of the green, he hit a swell bump-and-run (just like Old Man Richman suggested way back on the 14th tee) that curled right to the hole and...in. 'I've chipped in every year at State but I hadn't done it this year until my last shot.' For a lousy round (by his standards, believe me, not mine) that was the way to end it.
And then there was Jonathan. How many times on this website have I paid homage to this young man's accuracy? (I don't really know so if someone wants to actually read all the posts we would have an accurate answer.) Hell, one of his competitors called his shots boring. Today his drives were anything but. They were more like a movie with Nic Cage as they were all over the place. Even his dad, the eminently stable Dave Menashe, found it 'hard to watch.' On 6, Jonathan found the water hazard for the second day in a row. He took his drop behind the trouble, broke out some sort of wood and smoked a 200 yard laser to eight feet and made it--for par. He couldn't hit a fairway if it were an app on his iPhone™ and he still managed a 37 on the front. A 37! His Scottish wizardry was a sight to behold as he punched, drew, cut and bumped his way around. The backside was no prettier from the deck but nearly as nice by the time the ball plunged into the hole, 41. A gutsy performance; certainly a nominee for 'Most Gutsy Performance' for the year.
No one played as well as they would've liked--they never do--yet the team finished fourth in the state. Of course they would've liked any of the spots ahead of us, but they showed heart and grit to stave off Thurston and nearly catch Summit. What a quintet, what a year.
Quote of the day: I came in after three of the guys finished and walked up to them to see how they were doing. Paul said, 'I will understand if you never want to speak to me again.' Boy, these guys are hard on themselves. He sounded like Wednesday Addams.
Shot of the day: Conor's chip-in. I wish I had a picture of him with arms upraised and a smile on his face.
Ensemble of the day: Jeff looked tremendous in a white WHITE WHITE button-down cardigan sweater, white belt and white shoes with a subtle hint of green on the stripes. Miami Vice meets Mr. Rogers. Nice.
West Albany 624 Wilsonville 633 Summit 651 Cleveland 655 Thurston 659 seven others
Conor 79-82 161 (top 10 for third year in a row)
Jonathan 84-78 162
Jeff 78-85 163
Michael 85-84 169
Paul 86-93 179
We arrived at the course an hour before Paul was to tee it up. Some rain was falling as we drove from Eugene so the fellas had to gear up. Except Conor. 'I don't have any raingear. I don't even have pants.' I've got some. 'You do? Awesome.' Between that and my Cleveland™ hat that he was wearing, Conor's wardrobe was pretty much sponsored by Coach Richman.
The galleries were out en force as Jeff's folks were back for a second day, Conor's mom and grandpa were back for more, Conor's girlfriend and her mom and sister watched the front nine, Jonathan's mom, dad and grandpa came down for the day and Michael's whole fam made the journey for day two. Their support has been unwavering all these years and it is certainly appreciated by this coach. I know the boys like it, too, but they're sixteen, seventeen and eighteen and they can't show it right now. In eleven years (give or take) they'll be able to say 'Thanks.'
Paul waged a quiet, merciless war with his putter throughout the day. 'My putter is betraying me,' he said after the 8th. I saw him three-putt that one, 9 and 14. The greens were a smidge slower what with the rain overnight and the sprinkles from the morning, but that's like saying Carmelo is a smidge smaller than K-mart--it's a matter of degrees, or stimps in this case. The rest of his game couldn't counteract his pitiful flatstick so his day was frustrating. He slapped his forehead more than a V-8 commercial.
Michael played like a submarine sandwich served up hot on the docks in Boston: he was a grindah. 42-42 with nothing working but his ethic. On 14 he was 180 yards from the elevated green, ball above his feet and sitting down a little bit in the first cut. His 4-iron was as smooth as Frank Sinatra as it bounced twice in front of the green then rolled to fifteen feet. His 84 showed his determination to post the best score he could on that day.
Jeff played with a confidence befitting his back-nine 38 yesterday as he started 39 today. Unfortunately neither he nor any of his teammates mastered the 4th hole with its back left pin. Jeff hit the best approach but it hit the middle of the green and spun all the way back to the fairway. His chip was two revolutions from staying on the proper shelf but ultimately it fell down low, too. His iron was a little loose and a little right on 5 as it caught the front trap. He got up and down from twelve feet to regain his momentum. On the backside I was occupied by trying to keep Conor's spirits up and I had nothing but confidence in Jeff's back-nine prowess at EValley, so I let him be. On 14 he came out of the swale short right of the green and skied his ball sideways over everything. It hit the tree above me and landed eighteen inches in front of my shoes. Again, I was not bothered in the least. Alas, Jeff was. He stumbled on 13, 14 and 15.
Actually, I was caught even more off guard than I'm letting on. When he came in after his round I walked into the tent just as they were reading his score. I heard the nine individual numbers and then '39.' I thought, Nice, he backed up his first nine with another 39. Then the official read nine more numbers, including a 6-8-6 pu-pu platter. Wait a minute, I watched him thread the needle on 13 after an errant drive. He was in pretty good shape. On 15 I glanced at his ball heading over the green (as did Conor's) and still I had a warm fuzzy feeling in my tummy. But the magic--like the rain--was gone.
Conor was ready to go out like a champ. Our own Rocky Marciano, our Al McGuire, our (trying to find a more recent reference than 1977 but can't because no one seems to retire after they've reached the pinnacle of their sport anymore.) That 36 put him in good stead. But his 43 was uncharacteristic, to say the least. Conor said it succinctly: 'I haven't shot a score like that since freshman year.' (A slight exaggeration, but appropriate for it's dramatic effect.) Then he goes out and posts a 44 on the front. 'You should sub Nick for me.' (Funny, that's what Paul said three groups earlier.) He had fewer breaks than a surfer on a windless day plus his putting was not as consistent as it was yesterday. As I mentioned, I made the decision to follow him around the back. It was his last nine holes for us, he had done so many great things for this team and I know he was dejected. I realize that the same could be said about Paul, but the only person he wants checking on his game is his brother, John. (What up, Johnny Lambert?) I would've caused some pentajacks, I just know it. So Conor was the beneficiary of my watchful gaze. On 12 he yelled 'Fore' from the tee as it was heading directly at the marshal assisting by the stream on the left. His ball hit a tree at least thirty feet up and caromed softly onto the short stuff. But his chip from just short of the green came up well short and he couldn't convert for par. I spoke to him in between holes and suggested he de-loft his wedge and run the ball a bit more as uphill he is not getting a lot of roll. He gave me the perfunctory 'Yeah' then blasted his three-wood down the right side on 14. On 15 he was concerned about his draw putting him through the fairway, even with a three-wood. We decided he should aim at the big tree on the right. He did and it drew just before whacking it. That shot was sight to behold. Too bad he overshot the damn green from eighty yards or what not. After 16 I left him to see how morale was in the clubhouse. (Um, not so hot.) But when he came in to the 18th green, he was as stoic as ever. Just off the front edge of the green, he hit a swell bump-and-run (just like Old Man Richman suggested way back on the 14th tee) that curled right to the hole and...in. 'I've chipped in every year at State but I hadn't done it this year until my last shot.' For a lousy round (by his standards, believe me, not mine) that was the way to end it.
And then there was Jonathan. How many times on this website have I paid homage to this young man's accuracy? (I don't really know so if someone wants to actually read all the posts we would have an accurate answer.) Hell, one of his competitors called his shots boring. Today his drives were anything but. They were more like a movie with Nic Cage as they were all over the place. Even his dad, the eminently stable Dave Menashe, found it 'hard to watch.' On 6, Jonathan found the water hazard for the second day in a row. He took his drop behind the trouble, broke out some sort of wood and smoked a 200 yard laser to eight feet and made it--for par. He couldn't hit a fairway if it were an app on his iPhone™ and he still managed a 37 on the front. A 37! His Scottish wizardry was a sight to behold as he punched, drew, cut and bumped his way around. The backside was no prettier from the deck but nearly as nice by the time the ball plunged into the hole, 41. A gutsy performance; certainly a nominee for 'Most Gutsy Performance' for the year.
No one played as well as they would've liked--they never do--yet the team finished fourth in the state. Of course they would've liked any of the spots ahead of us, but they showed heart and grit to stave off Thurston and nearly catch Summit. What a quintet, what a year.
Quote of the day: I came in after three of the guys finished and walked up to them to see how they were doing. Paul said, 'I will understand if you never want to speak to me again.' Boy, these guys are hard on themselves. He sounded like Wednesday Addams.
Shot of the day: Conor's chip-in. I wish I had a picture of him with arms upraised and a smile on his face.
Ensemble of the day: Jeff looked tremendous in a white WHITE WHITE button-down cardigan sweater, white belt and white shoes with a subtle hint of green on the stripes. Miami Vice meets Mr. Rogers. Nice.
West Albany 624 Wilsonville 633 Summit 651 Cleveland 655 Thurston 659 seven others
Conor 79-82 161 (top 10 for third year in a row)
Jonathan 84-78 162
Jeff 78-85 163
Michael 85-84 169
Paul 86-93 179
State09 -- Day One
05/18/09
It's the State Championships. We're here again and it's
awesome. This year the 5A and 6A boys are competing in
Creswell at Emerald Valley GC, the home course (at
least part time) of the Oregon Ducks and site of US
Open sectional qualifiers. We played here a month ago
and you can read about it if you find your way to
4.18.09.
The boys have been here since Saturday when they traveled six in the Expedition to play a practice round. Let's give a sizable Thank you to the Menashes for letting Jonathan chauffeur the guys down there and to Jonathan for actually driving. Nick is here, too, because of his play at Eastmoreland during the PIL Championships. Paul will play the first day and it remains to be seen if Nick will take anybody's spot on Tues. But I have to say that it is a little strange to drive down here alone and in my truck. No Shorty, no sleepy/excited kids in the back. For the last two years and all of this one up to this weekend, I have been totally responsible for their whereabouts. And now they just hop in the rig and meet me down here. They rented hotel rooms for Saturday night for chrissakes. Maybe they were trying to make me feel useful by meeting me at the wrong Holiday Inn Express. Hell, they ate Prince Puckler's--the ice cream store I brought them to--without me!
We had the late tee times today so Conor didn't start us off until 1:27. That's a lot of time in the morning for six teenagers. I'm not sure I ever thought I'd say this, but thank heavens for the Xbox. They could sleep in, which was great, but that cut both ways as they were up a touch later than usual. I had to walk next door at 11:15 because I heard a loud thud. When Nick opened the door, I found Michael in a pile on the ground and Conor attempting to act like he hadn't dumped him there. I calmly explained that I didn't care how much Michael hurt but I cared very much about the patrons below their room and they had best knock it off immediately. I admit that I am partly to blame for setting up a Loud Room and a Quiet Room. But Holiday Inn Express is entirely to blame for placing my room right next to theirs.
It was a nice warm day for golf as it got up to 79 at its warmest. On the front nine it was downright hot. So was Conor as he birdied both of the par-5s after reaching both in two. (He yanked his drive far enough left on 3 that he actually had a clean look at the green between stands of trees. 'I was gonna lay up but I would've had to clear a higher group of trees, so I went for it. That chip (from the backside of the green) was lightning.' ) He finished even on the front.
On 4 he made a lovely lag putt on a
thirty foot bender that left him with a
knee-knocking three-foot looper that he
made...then he exhaled. On 8 he came off the green
smiling: 'I have the stat of the day. Zero
fairways hit, 8 greens-in-regulation.' Wow.
I met everyone on the #5 teebox so I watched the action on 4 with its ski-run-slope of a green. Michael and Paul handled it well as both were short left of the green, MIchael chipping, and they both made par. Though I can't say for certain since I didn't see Jonathan's comebacker, I believe that all five guys made par on 5, including Jeff getting up and down from the short right rough and making an eight-footer.
Paul was not pleased as he came around the first four. He began double-double-double. I didn't know this at the time as I never inquire into scores (and Paul is never one to offer it up.) Nick did mention that after 3, Paul looked at Nick with a 'Get outta here' glare. So Nick skedaddled. But when I spoke to Paul on his way to 14 teebox, he had played holes 6-13 in one-over par. That is resilient like a barnacle on a ship's bottom. In the middle of that run I witnessed a smooth up and down from behind the green on nine as he displayed touch like a masseuse.
Michael kept himself occupied on the front by making four-footers or leaving himself with gimmes. His short-game was clicking, not to mention his drives were straighter than George Hamilton. (Sorry for the septuagenarian reference.) He got up and down on 4,5 and 8.
Unfortunately, playing #1, Jonathan could not get going. I should say he couldn't keep it going as he chipped in for birdie on 1. I think his highlight reel stopped there. When I asked him at the end of his round what was working, he quietly shook his head and said, 'Nothing.' I don't think it was his position that affected him, just a lack of consistency and too many 3-putts. He has been our most consistent putter this season so I'm fairly certain he will respond tomorrow.
The back nine on this course plays tougher, in part because the fairways are a little narrower but mostly because 13 and 14 are monsters. Tucked into a corner of the property, they penalize errant drives with water hazards rather than trees and the greens are both elevated and guarded with sand. That being said, Michael and Jeff missed 12-foot birdie opportunities and Jeff played 14 quite nicely, thank you. It can be done. 15 and 16 are straight up and back and 18 can be birdied. The wind made these holes more mentally challenging, too, as it seemed to prevail from three directions over the course of the same hole. Anyway, BackNineBootCamp proved elusive to most everyone. Conor, Jonathan and Paul shot 43, Michael 46. His short game prowess, particularly the lag putting, deserted him over the final nine.
There was one Warrior who was riveting all the way around.
Jeff spent the entire 4 1/2 hours
scrambling like parents trying to pack for their
plane flight in an hour. Under trees, through the
fairway, in the first cut, found a bunker, is that
going OB?, the next fairway over, Jeff was
everywhere. He ended up in the hole in the proper
amount of strokes more often than not. He was the
only BNBC acolyte on the back, besting his 40 on
the front with a 38.
I led a caravan of cars on a labyrinthine quest for a Mexican restaurant in Eugene. I didn't know the name and I didn't know the address, but I had a pretty good idea of where it was. El Jarro Azul wasn't as good as I recall, but it didn't sully my 'Human UrbanSpoon' reputation, either. Ted and Traci Wall not only joined us, which was a treat in and of itself, but they ponied up for the meal. Thank you very much.
What, we're going back to the hotel without more Prince Puckler's? Please. That cookies n cream shake with a banana and extra thick makes a man fat and happy. For the six golfers, it just makes em happy.
Like last year, we have our work cut out for us. But we are like a pool shark, a suckerpunch. We lull you into a false sense of security. We are Mine That Bird roaring up from the back of the pack. We have to if we want to crack the top three. Bring it.
Quote of the day: Nick and I sat and waited for one of his teammates to come up to the 8th green. 'I'm gonna get quote of the day. I've had shot of the day but never quote of the day.' You're running out of time. 'I've got two days.' Just for trying so hard, I've gotta give it to him.
Shot of the day: I was walking up 14 with Nick when we crossed the fairway just past the water on the left. We glimpsed Michael fishing his ball out of the swamp short right of the green. It's a long hole with a narrow landing area plus a bushel of traps and the EVGC slippery slopes around the green. Compounded by the typical Eugene afternoon swirling wind and the hole was a beast. As we sauntered by I muttered, Just take a bogey and walk away. This hole is tough. Five minutes later I spoke with Jeff after he parred 15. He was giddy to tell me he birdied 14. 'I'm gonna tell you something you're not gonna believe. You know 14? A birdie. Yeah. A little three.'He made a 25 footer to make it so. That was the longest putt made by our team by over fifteen feet. Bravo.
Shit of the day: Both Michael and Jonathan had their shirts sullied by goose bombs.
West Albany 299 Summit 313 Wilsonville 320 Cleveland 326 The Dalles Wahtonka 335 Thurston 338 six others
Jeff 78 (40-38!) 'I was going to the bathroom a lot out there. I was like Geoff Richman at Bandon Dunes today.'
Conor 79 'I've never been so nervous standing over a three-foot putt.'
Jonathan 84 'I'm not helping, that's for sure.'
Michael 85 You doing all right? '...'
Paul 86 'BackNineBootCamp. Let's do it.' (He was close: 43-43)
The boys have been here since Saturday when they traveled six in the Expedition to play a practice round. Let's give a sizable Thank you to the Menashes for letting Jonathan chauffeur the guys down there and to Jonathan for actually driving. Nick is here, too, because of his play at Eastmoreland during the PIL Championships. Paul will play the first day and it remains to be seen if Nick will take anybody's spot on Tues. But I have to say that it is a little strange to drive down here alone and in my truck. No Shorty, no sleepy/excited kids in the back. For the last two years and all of this one up to this weekend, I have been totally responsible for their whereabouts. And now they just hop in the rig and meet me down here. They rented hotel rooms for Saturday night for chrissakes. Maybe they were trying to make me feel useful by meeting me at the wrong Holiday Inn Express. Hell, they ate Prince Puckler's--the ice cream store I brought them to--without me!
We had the late tee times today so Conor didn't start us off until 1:27. That's a lot of time in the morning for six teenagers. I'm not sure I ever thought I'd say this, but thank heavens for the Xbox. They could sleep in, which was great, but that cut both ways as they were up a touch later than usual. I had to walk next door at 11:15 because I heard a loud thud. When Nick opened the door, I found Michael in a pile on the ground and Conor attempting to act like he hadn't dumped him there. I calmly explained that I didn't care how much Michael hurt but I cared very much about the patrons below their room and they had best knock it off immediately. I admit that I am partly to blame for setting up a Loud Room and a Quiet Room. But Holiday Inn Express is entirely to blame for placing my room right next to theirs.
It was a nice warm day for golf as it got up to 79 at its warmest. On the front nine it was downright hot. So was Conor as he birdied both of the par-5s after reaching both in two. (He yanked his drive far enough left on 3 that he actually had a clean look at the green between stands of trees. 'I was gonna lay up but I would've had to clear a higher group of trees, so I went for it. That chip (from the backside of the green) was lightning.' ) He finished even on the front.
On 4 he made a lovely lag putt on a
thirty foot bender that left him with a
knee-knocking three-foot looper that he
made...then he exhaled. On 8 he came off the green
smiling: 'I have the stat of the day. Zero
fairways hit, 8 greens-in-regulation.' Wow.
I met everyone on the #5 teebox so I watched the action on 4 with its ski-run-slope of a green. Michael and Paul handled it well as both were short left of the green, MIchael chipping, and they both made par. Though I can't say for certain since I didn't see Jonathan's comebacker, I believe that all five guys made par on 5, including Jeff getting up and down from the short right rough and making an eight-footer.
Paul was not pleased as he came around the first four. He began double-double-double. I didn't know this at the time as I never inquire into scores (and Paul is never one to offer it up.) Nick did mention that after 3, Paul looked at Nick with a 'Get outta here' glare. So Nick skedaddled. But when I spoke to Paul on his way to 14 teebox, he had played holes 6-13 in one-over par. That is resilient like a barnacle on a ship's bottom. In the middle of that run I witnessed a smooth up and down from behind the green on nine as he displayed touch like a masseuse.
Michael kept himself occupied on the front by making four-footers or leaving himself with gimmes. His short-game was clicking, not to mention his drives were straighter than George Hamilton. (Sorry for the septuagenarian reference.) He got up and down on 4,5 and 8.
Unfortunately, playing #1, Jonathan could not get going. I should say he couldn't keep it going as he chipped in for birdie on 1. I think his highlight reel stopped there. When I asked him at the end of his round what was working, he quietly shook his head and said, 'Nothing.' I don't think it was his position that affected him, just a lack of consistency and too many 3-putts. He has been our most consistent putter this season so I'm fairly certain he will respond tomorrow.
The back nine on this course plays tougher, in part because the fairways are a little narrower but mostly because 13 and 14 are monsters. Tucked into a corner of the property, they penalize errant drives with water hazards rather than trees and the greens are both elevated and guarded with sand. That being said, Michael and Jeff missed 12-foot birdie opportunities and Jeff played 14 quite nicely, thank you. It can be done. 15 and 16 are straight up and back and 18 can be birdied. The wind made these holes more mentally challenging, too, as it seemed to prevail from three directions over the course of the same hole. Anyway, BackNineBootCamp proved elusive to most everyone. Conor, Jonathan and Paul shot 43, Michael 46. His short game prowess, particularly the lag putting, deserted him over the final nine.
There was one Warrior who was riveting all the way around.
Jeff spent the entire 4 1/2 hours
scrambling like parents trying to pack for their
plane flight in an hour. Under trees, through the
fairway, in the first cut, found a bunker, is that
going OB?, the next fairway over, Jeff was
everywhere. He ended up in the hole in the proper
amount of strokes more often than not. He was the
only BNBC acolyte on the back, besting his 40 on
the front with a 38.
I led a caravan of cars on a labyrinthine quest for a Mexican restaurant in Eugene. I didn't know the name and I didn't know the address, but I had a pretty good idea of where it was. El Jarro Azul wasn't as good as I recall, but it didn't sully my 'Human UrbanSpoon' reputation, either. Ted and Traci Wall not only joined us, which was a treat in and of itself, but they ponied up for the meal. Thank you very much.
What, we're going back to the hotel without more Prince Puckler's? Please. That cookies n cream shake with a banana and extra thick makes a man fat and happy. For the six golfers, it just makes em happy.
Like last year, we have our work cut out for us. But we are like a pool shark, a suckerpunch. We lull you into a false sense of security. We are Mine That Bird roaring up from the back of the pack. We have to if we want to crack the top three. Bring it.
Quote of the day: Nick and I sat and waited for one of his teammates to come up to the 8th green. 'I'm gonna get quote of the day. I've had shot of the day but never quote of the day.' You're running out of time. 'I've got two days.' Just for trying so hard, I've gotta give it to him.
Shot of the day: I was walking up 14 with Nick when we crossed the fairway just past the water on the left. We glimpsed Michael fishing his ball out of the swamp short right of the green. It's a long hole with a narrow landing area plus a bushel of traps and the EVGC slippery slopes around the green. Compounded by the typical Eugene afternoon swirling wind and the hole was a beast. As we sauntered by I muttered, Just take a bogey and walk away. This hole is tough. Five minutes later I spoke with Jeff after he parred 15. He was giddy to tell me he birdied 14. 'I'm gonna tell you something you're not gonna believe. You know 14? A birdie. Yeah. A little three.'He made a 25 footer to make it so. That was the longest putt made by our team by over fifteen feet. Bravo.
Shit of the day: Both Michael and Jonathan had their shirts sullied by goose bombs.
West Albany 299 Summit 313 Wilsonville 320 Cleveland 326 The Dalles Wahtonka 335 Thurston 338 six others
Jeff 78 (40-38!) 'I was going to the bathroom a lot out there. I was like Geoff Richman at Bandon Dunes today.'
Conor 79 'I've never been so nervous standing over a three-foot putt.'
Jonathan 84 'I'm not helping, that's for sure.'
Michael 85 You doing all right? '...'
Paul 86 'BackNineBootCamp. Let's do it.' (He was close: 43-43)
PIL District Championships -- Day Two (Heron Lakes -- G'back)
05/11/09
Now here's some sunshine. It's a shame I didn't bring a
hat nor any sunscreen. My fivehead took a beating this
afternoon; it's a UV-magnet. It's gonna peel within the
week. Brother. But still, a wonderful day for golf at
Heron Lakes -- Greenback.
No pressure for Paul: he just had to go under 83 to play the first day at the State Championships. He was in a foursome with Conor who was kind enough to provide a Paul Lambert update each time I saw them.
Each time it was the same: Even.
He made four putts of six feet or more to save par
on the first twelve holes, including a 19-footer
on 7 after pulling his iron left of the left trap.
I asked him what was working: 'My driver.' After
putting the ball in play off the box, he was
converting with his irons. No birdies on the
front, but no bogeys, either and he made all the
3-4 footers. 36. His first bogey came on 15 as he
couldn't Houdini his way out of danger. He bogeyed
17 as well, but that was it. A routine 74 and no
doubt that he would play on the first day at the
State Championships. Like I said, he plays well
under pressure. I suggested that I might bring
Nick into his classroom so that he can do better
on his Econ tests. For now it'll be enough that
Nick will be walking the course with me. No one
will be complacent.
Jeff, with pole position for the District Medallist, on the first hole hit the largest drive this side of John Daly, v.1998.
Going for it in two, he pushed his
fairway wood. I got there first (as I was
careening around in a cart. I am the Steward,
after all) and recognized that he was OB. It's the
absolute far-reaching corner of the driving range
and no one will ever hit a ball over there;
nevertheless, the stakes are firmly ensconced and
OB he was. I shuttled him back in the cart and he
laid up on his way to a double-bogey 7. He
finished his front nine that same two-over. With
Jonathan 1-under for the same nine, in the same
group, it was all-square with nine to go. Let me
explain Jonathan's game: hit it into the fairway,
then reach the green in regulation. If the putt is
more than fifteen feet, he can lag it to gimme
distance, occasionally making one or two and from
ten feet-and-in he can make more than most. It's
an easy game to watch him play it. 
Conor, like Jonathan, was doing his usual 'I pretty much own this course' routine.
While his playing partner was
stunning, Conor was overpowering the course. And
Michael hit two of the 'best ten shots of [his]
life.' On 4 he was under a tree so he hit some
sort of cut eight-iron that somehow skedaddled
sideways and finished twelve feet from the pin. On
10 he was maybe 80 yards away in a fairway bunker
and splashed out to nine feet. As always, we will
not inquire about the shots following. Frankly,
Michael wouldn't mind forgetting about much of his
round, though he is much harder on himself than
anyone else might be.
We're on to the State Championships for the fourth (!) year in a row. Conor is leading the charge with all five others willing to shoot in the 70s and, over the last fortnight, all but Nick showing they can. It's on down in Creswell.
Shot of the day: With apologies to the two young men who went lower, today's round of the day went to the yoeman, Paul Lambert, as he clocked in, did his work, then went home. Sixteen pars, two bogeys and enough consistency to burn out Conor's 'Lambert Update Arm.' Later in the evening I alerted Nick of Paul's round. Nick replied : 'At least I got beat by a great round.' I retorted that great doesn't begin to do the round justice. We'll have to a make up a new work, like gritastic or grindsational.
Conor 70
Jonathan 71
Paul 74
Jeff 77
Michael 82
CHS 292 (our best score since I have been coaching at Cleveland.) Two-day score: 602. I don't know what Madison and Marshall shot because the numbers haven't been posted in the paper and I didn't pay a lick of attention to them as we accepted out ribbons. My bad. I do know that we beat all the PIL 6A schools this year, another first for us. We nipped Lincoln by single digits.
No pressure for Paul: he just had to go under 83 to play the first day at the State Championships. He was in a foursome with Conor who was kind enough to provide a Paul Lambert update each time I saw them.
Each time it was the same: Even.
He made four putts of six feet or more to save par
on the first twelve holes, including a 19-footer
on 7 after pulling his iron left of the left trap.
I asked him what was working: 'My driver.' After
putting the ball in play off the box, he was
converting with his irons. No birdies on the
front, but no bogeys, either and he made all the
3-4 footers. 36. His first bogey came on 15 as he
couldn't Houdini his way out of danger. He bogeyed
17 as well, but that was it. A routine 74 and no
doubt that he would play on the first day at the
State Championships. Like I said, he plays well
under pressure. I suggested that I might bring
Nick into his classroom so that he can do better
on his Econ tests. For now it'll be enough that
Nick will be walking the course with me. No one
will be complacent.
Jeff, with pole position for the District Medallist, on the first hole hit the largest drive this side of John Daly, v.1998.
Going for it in two, he pushed his
fairway wood. I got there first (as I was
careening around in a cart. I am the Steward,
after all) and recognized that he was OB. It's the
absolute far-reaching corner of the driving range
and no one will ever hit a ball over there;
nevertheless, the stakes are firmly ensconced and
OB he was. I shuttled him back in the cart and he
laid up on his way to a double-bogey 7. He
finished his front nine that same two-over. With
Jonathan 1-under for the same nine, in the same
group, it was all-square with nine to go. Let me
explain Jonathan's game: hit it into the fairway,
then reach the green in regulation. If the putt is
more than fifteen feet, he can lag it to gimme
distance, occasionally making one or two and from
ten feet-and-in he can make more than most. It's
an easy game to watch him play it.
Conor, like Jonathan, was doing his usual 'I pretty much own this course' routine.
While his playing partner was
stunning, Conor was overpowering the course. And
Michael hit two of the 'best ten shots of [his]
life.' On 4 he was under a tree so he hit some
sort of cut eight-iron that somehow skedaddled
sideways and finished twelve feet from the pin. On
10 he was maybe 80 yards away in a fairway bunker
and splashed out to nine feet. As always, we will
not inquire about the shots following. Frankly,
Michael wouldn't mind forgetting about much of his
round, though he is much harder on himself than
anyone else might be.
We're on to the State Championships for the fourth (!) year in a row. Conor is leading the charge with all five others willing to shoot in the 70s and, over the last fortnight, all but Nick showing they can. It's on down in Creswell.
Shot of the day: With apologies to the two young men who went lower, today's round of the day went to the yoeman, Paul Lambert, as he clocked in, did his work, then went home. Sixteen pars, two bogeys and enough consistency to burn out Conor's 'Lambert Update Arm.' Later in the evening I alerted Nick of Paul's round. Nick replied : 'At least I got beat by a great round.' I retorted that great doesn't begin to do the round justice. We'll have to a make up a new work, like gritastic or grindsational.
Conor 70
Jonathan 71
Paul 74
Jeff 77
Michael 82
CHS 292 (our best score since I have been coaching at Cleveland.) Two-day score: 602. I don't know what Madison and Marshall shot because the numbers haven't been posted in the paper and I didn't pay a lick of attention to them as we accepted out ribbons. My bad. I do know that we beat all the PIL 6A schools this year, another first for us. We nipped Lincoln by single digits.