Sweat dripped down my moist neck as I approached the crisp green of hole 18. The green grass crumbled under my heavy golf bag as I set it down. Slowly I removed the smooth putter head cover off my Scotty Cameron putter and glanced at my pure white Pro V1 resting on the flat putting surface. The bright sun beat down on my flat brimmed hat as I bent over to put my shiny quarter down as a ball marker. Carefully I glanced at the lengthy distance from my ball to the hole.
Then I began on my pre-putt routine that I go through every time before I hit a putt. My calm journey to the other side of the hole begins here, once I reached the vantage point I crouched down to view the line I need to hit, from another angle. Effortlessly I stood to my feet and approached the relaxed quarter. As I removed my ball from my clammy pocket I crouched back down behind my ball marker, placed the line on my ball pointing at the perfect angle at the hole. Once again I stood to my feet and glanced at the last shot standing in my way. The thickness of the salty sweat laced my face as I wiped any the minor distraction. My eyes moved in slow motion and everything became very calm and settle.
As I approached my ball with my putter a gentle breeze cooled my blistering neck. I had the special feeling that I could end this assure my victory right now. Cautiously I rested my putter behind my ball, looked at the hole, took a deep breath, and hit my putt. The green had an uphill break that moved slightly to the right. Approximately 7 feet. The ball gracefully rolled in slow motion and road the path I envisioned in my head. My ball seemed to be rolling for years, the suspense was killing me. What seemed to be the perfect putt turned out to be the complete opposite. My ball came to rest less than an inch from the cup. Shockingly I dropped my head in disbelief, I came so close to sinking that putt but so far away at the same time. Regrettably I dragged my feet to knock in my short putt while hating myself for leaving the putt short.
The ball came to rest at the bottom of the cup, for once I was unhappy with making a par. My hand clutched the ball and I moved on to the next hole. Being up only one stroke with only one left hole definitely made me uneasy, then again I wasnt about to let my competitor know that. As my group journeyed to hole 18 I kept my mouth shut and face looking forword. My battle wasn’t over yet.