The Miracle Man looked at me and said:
"Warm today. Warm yesterday."
"Yep," says I, as the driver is poised behind the golf ball. Eyes fixated upon the contrasting white sphere, against the dirty green sprinkled background. The sunlight shimmers on the driver's red head, and no thoughts are allowed in my brain. I combine a checklist of requirements into one fluid motion.
THWACK! Goes the impact.
Where goes the ball?
"Yeah, yeah! That's it," says Miracle Man.
"Was it?" says the Shameless One.
I couldn't see where it went. Either I hit it further than existence itself, or the Earth ran out of sunlight. The latter of the two proves most likely. The Sun rises on the other side of the planet, while we move into the lighted areas of the golf range.
The only other signs of life are two old-tymers chipping shots. I focus on nothing but the ball. I try not to think, but I keep wanting bacon. I'm so hungry. But it's too late. I'm in mid swing, and I'm systematically breaking down every part of my shot. No fluidity. Unnatural.
Dirt chunks fly. Obscenity. I see where the ball went. A few inches from a hole in the ground. I clear my mind of distraction, and commence making balls disappear.
We're done. A cool breeze became too cold, and we sit waiting for soreness to settle in. In the distance a deer exits the tall brush. Behind him, a clan. Bambi scuttles along to keep up with the pack.
"Man! I wish I had some more balls to hit," said Miracle Man.
"Me too! Me too...."
I wish I had a burger more.
About 3 hours away in Dallas, Tx, the 2011 Superbowl is taking place. I don't know the score. I don't think I care much. This golf range is normally half full, but now it's mostly empty. 4 dudes, a shed and 6 deers blessed that we don't have any more balls.
Talk is cheap. Multiple large of buckets of balls are not as cheap.
They add up.