!40Golf2

My friend Tom Tremba feels about golf much the same way as I do about fly-fishing. His goal was to play the top 100 courses in the world before he was 50 [he probably would have had a better chance playing the top 50 courses before he hits 100].
I really don’t think I could get too interested in this game unless, of course, someone stocked the water hazards with salmon and trout.

The first image is the 6th Hole at Shinnecock Hills on Long Island, Tom’s favorite, on his favorite golf course. The second shows one of the infamous bunkers at Royal County Down in Ireland and the third is of a rainbow over St. Andrews Old Course in Scotland.

Tremba's Passion

                On Fairway’s Grass, sly Dog’s Legs lie,
                With Hooks and Slices passing by;
                Long Drives soar up, through Air do fly,
                O’er verdant Links to azured Sky;
                Ne’er errant Shot nor Chip awry,
                No Divot deep, though Rough too high,
                Fore, Hazards wet or Sand Traps dry,
                Tough Summer’s Rules will Patience try;
                Still Tom, this Golf, does deify!

                Each Flag’s in sight, Tom’s Field of View,
                With Elbow tucked to follow through,
                Reach ev’ry Hole, as is his Due;
                E'er Scorecards foot; straight Shooter true,
                He plays the Course; rare Drive askew,
                May hate all Gorse; adores Fescue;
                Stands tall; makes Cuts; beyond Review,
                Stays on the Ball, putts Greens in Two;
                Indeed, among the Chosen Few!

                Tom is a golfing Dynamo,
                This Swinger bold hits like a Pro;
                He's on the Pin; goes with the Flow,
                Has Tiger's Range; puts on a Show,
                More Eagles, Birdies, Pars in Tow,
                His Game is at a new Plateau;
                Yet Something strange, which baffles so,
                Conundrum great, we need to know;
                Those Mulligans, where do they go?

Addendum

Tom recently went to Scotland for a week with a group of six friends to play all the good golf courses. On his last day, he played one his favorites, Turnberry's Ailsa Course. He had the hole of his life (or anyone else's for that matter) on the 17th, the "Lang Whang", a 497 yard, par 5. Tom shot an incredible double-eagle or albatross... that's three under par on a par five. The albatross is actually rarer and more difficult to come by than a hole-in-one! This very significant accomplishment inspired yet another stanza. The first image is William Grandison's beautiful painting of the lighthouse at Turnberry's Ailsa Course with the Ailsa Craig in the distance (the rocky source of some of the world's finest curling stones). The second photo shows the elusive Yellow-nosed Albatross and the last picture is every golfer's nemesis, that nasty gorse plant, Ulex europaeus.

The Albatross

                Oh Tremba beat, without Remorse,
                Turnberry's awesome Ailsa Course;
                O’er Hazards mean, he'd shoot across,
                From Tee to Green, avoiding Gorse;
                Hole Seventeen, we'd dare endorse,
                Was where he got his Albatross,
                Three under Par, sheer Tour de Force;
                We’ll celebrate; cheer till we’re hoarse,
                This Feat, so great; Tom’s still the Boss!

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