A Love-Hate Letter to Florida Golf (Where the Alligators are the Least of Your Worries)
- Michelle Eidam
- Oct 20, 2024
- 4 min read
Updated: Oct 23, 2024
Milton Aftermath
The aftermath of Hurricane Milton had left its mark on Florida. Palm fronds lay scattered like discarded feathers, and the air hummed with the buzz of chainsaws clearing debris. But two weeks on, the sun was shining, the fairways were surprisingly green, and, most importantly, the beverage cart was operational. What better way to celebrate surviving a hurricane than with a round of golf?
Armed with bug spray, ball retrievers, and a healthy dose of optimism (perhaps misplaced), we set off to conquer The Savannahs Golf Course in Merritt Island.
Oh, Florida!
Now, golf in Florida is a different beast than golf in Central Oregon (or anywhere else, for that matter!) Forget those rolling hills and predictable bounces. Here, the ball plops onto the soggy turf with a thud and stays put. Water hazards lurk around every corner. The humidity could melt asphalt, and fire ants ruin your day. Throw in the occasional alligator basking in the sun and you've got yourself a Florida adventure.
We joined our buddy Johnny, and with nothing but high hopes, headed to the first tee. My opening drive was a thing of beauty. It soared straight down the fairway, defying the humidity and the two water hazards that lurked like hungry animals. "This is it!" I thought, "This is the round where I break 90!" (Okay, maybe break 100 is more realistic, but a girl can dream). A bogey on the first, a solid drive on the second...life was good. Maybe this was my day.
Then, reality bit. Golf, that fickle mistress, reminded me who was boss. One minute you're riding high, the next you're hacking your way out of the rough, muttering curses that would make a sailor blush. A disastrous 9 on a par 5 brought me crashing back to earth.
Saved!
As I trudged down the fairway, considering trading in my clubs for knitting needles, a magical sight appeared. The beverage cart, shimmering in the sunlight, driven by none other than Wonder Woman herself (or at least her Floridian golf course counterpart). With her big smile and a cart full of heavenly drinks, she transformed my frown into a smile and my despair into renewed hope. Maybe this day wasn't a complete wash after all.
As the round progressed (and my scorecard deteriorated), we found ourselves facing another quintessential Florida hazard - an alligator. This one was a youngster, basking by the water's edge, seemingly unfazed by our presence. He just watched us with those reptilian eyes, probably wondering if a stray golf ball might make a tasty snack. Ty, my always-protective husband, cleverly staged the cart between the hungry fella and my ball.
The Love-Hate Tango of Golf
Despite the soggy conditions, the course had held up remarkably well after the hurricane. A few boarded-up windows and some battered trees were the only signs of Milton's fury. Nature, it seems, is resilient. Unlike my golf game.
By the 16th hole, I was ready to throw my clubs in the nearest water hazard. Double bogeys and triple bogeys littered my scorecard like fallen leaves. But then, a glimmer of hope! I found myself on the green, putting for par! "I got this!" I muttered to myself. The putter felt good in my hands. I picked my line, set up my ball, deep breath and... yeah, not even close. But hey, a bogey is still better than another triple, right?.
On the 17th, a par 3, we were ambushed by a swarm of mosquitos. It was like something out of a horror movie. We frantically doused ourselves in bug spray, swatting wildly at the relentless attackers. Finally, when the air cleared, we teed off.
Johnny landed on the green, while Ty and I ended up inches off. All three of us were putting for birdie. The pressure was on. The guys both putted and barely missed; then it was my turn. The world held its breath. Okay, maybe not the whole world, but it felt like it. This putt, this moment, this was everything.
I struck the ball, perhaps a tad too aggressively. It looked like it was going to sail across the green and disappear into the woods. Despair washed over me. But then...a miracle happened! The ball, traveling at an alarming speed, headed straight for the pin! It slammed, and I mean slammed, into the flagstick and dropped right into the hole.
A birdie! An actual, honest-to-goodness birdie! I unleashed my most triumphant birdie dance (which probably looked a lot like a drunken flamingo) and cheered like crazy. This was it! Today was once again the best day ever!
Of course, golf being golf, I followed up that beautiful moment with a quadruple bogey on 18. Ah, the love-hate relationship with golf continues.
Why We Play
Preacher Bar in Cape Canaveral was our post-golf sanctuary. Over pizza and a shared Greek salad, we relived the day's highlights (and lowlights). Suddenly, a voice next to us chimed in. "Where’d you play today?" It was a couple, both looking to be in their early 30s. We learned that the guy was a golf machine, with a handicap of 2! After chatting about our favorite local courses, the conversation moved to life in general. Turns out, he was only 28, while his girlfriend was 40! Talk about a plot twist. We may have been way off on our age-guessing game, but we definitely stumbled upon a potential new golfing buddy.
As we swapped stories and laughed over drinks, I realized that's what it's all about, isn't it? The camaraderie, the shared experiences, the unexpected connections forged on the fairways and in the clubhouse afterward. Sure, golf can be frustrating, even infuriating at times. But those fleeting moments of glory – the perfect drive, the miraculous putt, the birdie that defies all odds – those are the moments that keep us coming back. They remind us that even when we're slicing balls into the water and battling swarms of mosquitoes, there's still magic to be found in this crazy game. And who knows, maybe next time, with a little luck, I'll actually break 100.
Cheers!
