The battle for a low score

November 30, 2012
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Standing on the green plateau, I stare down the beast I’m about to engage in battle. It stares right back. I check my arsenal, and see that I am well prepared for this war of attrition. Who will wear out first? My frail body, or my ancient enemy that has stood firm for over one hundred years?

I am not alone in this battle. My squad stands behind me, readying themselves. Our commander, who goes by the name Williamson, barks orders. My mates toss encouragment my way, although it does little to assuage my fears. We have prepared a long time for this moment. From a pool of thousands, we alone were hand picked for this mission.

I’ve fought this battle before. More often than not, I leave feeling defeated. I know how to lose. Losing is easy. Winning, truly defeating not only my opponent but the enemy within myself, is what I am attempting. I want it so bad. The pressure to succeed is mounting. I feel like I’m being squeezed from all sides with no way out.

I snap out of my trance as my name is called. “Griffin! You’re up!” It’s time. There’s no way out except forward. At least I get to fire the first shot. I take my stance, aim, and fire. I look up, and slowly a smile peeks forth as I watch my drive sail down the fairway of the first hole.

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