The Dreamer Introduction (Cont...)

His eye’s opened slowly, not wanting to know where the small, white golf ball would be resting. Seeing the ball two feet to the left and front of the hole, he heaved a sigh of frustration, and slowly walked over to the ball to tap it in. A three-putt again, he thought. After tapping the ball into the hole, and hearing the clink-clink sound of the ball coming to rest at the bottom of the cup, the short, thoroughly soaked, young man with the scruffy face reached down to pick the ball up out of the hole.

He usually enjoyed the feeling of taking the ball out of the hole. On a normal day, it was a feeling of satisfaction. No matter how many strokes he may have taken to get there, he had achieved his goal of getting the ball into the hole, and would gladly move on to the next hole. However, goals change, and he was no longer interested in merely getting the ball in the hole. He was interested in par or better, but had yet to achieve it even once. He had been so close this time. Two shots to the green and two putts would have given him par for the hole, but with the miss on his second putt, he had tapped it in for a bogie.

The rest of the round was a blur of frustration. His eyes reflected the frustration of that missed putt, and the rain continued, reflecting his dark mood. “Son, you’ve got to get off the course,” the course marshal said worriedly, astonished that someone was actually on the course in this kind of rain. “You’re gonna get yourself killed holding a lightning rod like that in this thunder storm. Grab your clubs. I’ll give you a ride back to the clubhouse.”

“You’re right. I just like it when I’m the only one out here. I can focus on my shots better.” The part about focusing better was a lie, he knew. He hadn’t focused on any shot but the missed putt for the last four or five holes, but he usually loved being out on the course by himself. He carefully toweled his club off and slid it back into the bag that was already slung over his shoulder. He walked over to the cart, which he hadn’t heard approach, and secured his bag in the back, before getting into the cart beside the marshal.