Enjoyable Golf Story #1 - 1995

To change gears from my normal rantings and complaints, I figured I would delve into my mental encyclopedia of golf tales.

1995 - Jr. year in high school, on a good team, that contended (but never captured) the VSHL Championship. In preparation for the bigger events (Districts, Regionals, States) we had many smaller tournaments, or single matches against another schools, which essentially were an opportunity to catch up with friends who played elsewhere, check out different courses, and get out of school early.

One afternoon match pitted Stafford against Woodbridge at Montclair Country Club in Woodbridge, VA. MCC epitomizes a tight golf course, cropped by forest, and condominiums dangerously close to playability (think Road Hole over the hotel, but the hotel is a 3Br with a jacuzzi and a trampoline and the road hole is an overpriced, uninspiring layout).

The format of the matches was three foursomes, pairing the #1&2, #3&4, and #5&6 of each team. Teeing off in reverse order, I was stuck in a 9 hole match taking nearly 3 hours as the higher handicaps hacked it around ahead. Having already required a spontaneous ruling on the 2nd green, when a dog had darted out from the forest and run off with out #2's ball, which was 15 feet from the pin, I wanted to get the hell off the course.

The 9th hole at Montclair is a par-5 where the green lies at the bottom of an ampitheatre, with the clubhouse perched above for an optimal view. As I was preparing to putt, my concentration was broken by the alarming shrill of a garbage truck backing up to lift and empty a dumpster adjacent to the clubhouse. Somewhat insulted, my ire soon turned to incredulous wonder as the truck was unable to flip and empty the dumpster, but lost its grip and dropped the object off the back of the truck, and bounding down the hill for the green. End-over-end, five majestic sumersaults later and the dumpster had come to rest in the middle of the green, crushing an opponents bag in tow. While in tears, I collected myself to finish the round and follow the victim to the clubhouse, as he demanded a new set of clubs, considering "some moron dropped a dumpster" on his. The rolled dumpster was quite the impediment, which should have been become a permanent addition to the green, signifying the fact Montclair was garbage.