by Doug McAllister
But I'm back and what better way to swing back into things than a post about Fox Hollow's new lights on its driving range. Fox Hollow, for those of you who may not know, is the new name of the old Tri-City Golf Course. Brand new, luxury clubhouse. Really cool new logo. Kinda makes one want to actual buy and wear golf hats from the course. But I digress.
The latest innovation is the addition of lights to the driving range! Really cool. Not the first time I have used such a facility. When I lived in Kansas I used to go to the driving range a bunch at night. Method in that madness, though. The Kansas spring and summer days tended to be hot and humid so hitting under the lights made particular sense from a comfort standpoint. But I digress again!
Fox Hollow has always had a very fine practice facility. Top notch. No AstroTurf covered cement pads with stupid rubber tees—such as other "premier facilities" like Thanksgiving Point have. A fine grass driving range. And now the place is open until 10:00 p.m.! There's something eerily magical about hitting a golf ball at night. Maybe it's just the visibility of the lighted ball against the dark backdrop of the night sky. I certainly recommend it. Fox Hollow is located at 1400 North 200 East in American Fork.
Now for the downside—at least regarding tonight's practice session.
As the lights came on I noticed the floppy flight of a bat making its way towards the lights. Lights, as you know, tend to attract all sorts of vile creatures. They even attract insects! But, for the sake of this post, let's stick to the vile creatures drawn by the lights. Don't know why but tonight the range seemed particularly infested with loudmouthed losers who seemed to believe that they were the only ones on the range. As I entered the range I noticed a bald headed Bermuda-shorted gent who was going through all the motions—wild stretches and practice swings without clubs—the sort of things that many a golf guru claims are good for developing and keeping a consistent swing. Now, don't get me wrong. I have nothing against the follicle-ly challenged. Neither am I a Bermuda shorts bigot. And, while I am not a proponent of the weird gymnastics that many golfing teachers prescribe, I do not deny others such stupidity! Er...whatever it is!
No. My case against...well..let's call him Baldy Bermuda. Yes. My case against Baldy Bermuda arose when a friend of his showed up to join the practice session. It seems that B-B was anxiously anticipating the arrival of his partner. So much so that when his friend was still a good hundred yards off B-B began shouting at the top of his lungs. "There he is! 'Bout time! What, no clubs?" Baldy howled. "Well, you can use everything but my driver!" Apparently B-B thought that was a good one as he began to guffaw wildly at the supposed quality of the joke.
Fine. Say hello to a friend arriving at the range. Fine! Surely golf etiquette would ultimately rule the day and the two would settle into an appropriately quiet practice session. Not hardly! Baldy began a loud dialog—seemingly wanting all at the range to tune in—about how he could absolutely hit his driver 'at least 350 yards.' "Just watch. I'm careful not to tee it up too high. You want to catch it on the upswing. These new drivers, you know, lower centers of gravity. Not like the old ones. Okay, watch this one." Silence for a millisecond as Baldy Bermuda carefully swooshed his driver back—way too fast from the sound of it. Off center popping sound and... "Holy moley! That was incredible! I lost that one a bit to the right but the ball flight was absolutely true. Did you notice that? Absolutely true! Okay, here's another one..." Another too fast swing followed by another uncomfortable pinging sound. This time it was his partner's turn, "Wow! Incredible! That had to be 320 yards!" "Probably," B-B interjected proudly, "That one was closer but I lost that one a bit left. But true flight! True flight!"
It went on like this for the better part of 30 minutes. B-B bellowing self appreciatively about his amazing golf ability and patting himself all over for his gifts as a teacher in working with his equally loud and obnoxious friend. And, try as I did, I could never quite figure out how a drive could be lost to the right and then to the left and still achieve "true flight."
I had to appropriately console myself that golf is a game of playing the ball as it lies and the course or driving range as you find it. Every once in a while I looked wistfully at the lights, hoping that one of the bats would prove to be big enough to come and carry away the vile creatures right next to me on the range!
The good news is that the lighted range offers extended hours for practice at a wonderful facility. Hopefully, your session will afford fellow golfers who know considerably more about the dying virtue of golf etiquette. Otherwise, I'd consider bringing some ear plugs!
So until next time—hit 'em long and straight!
