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Playing golf on a foggy day makes the sport very challenging if not outright impossible. At least starting from the tee box you can estimate the hole direction fairly accurately. Just orient your stance perpendicular to the tee markers and fire away.

Once you get out on the fairway however, things get much more difficult. There's a hidden six sense of golf that tells you about where to hit the next shot, being it either an approach shot to the green or a longish fairway shot. The fog messes things up by creating a thick whitish curtain through which you must hit the ball, thereby introducing significant error.

Can you see where the flag is?

Not only is the exact direction to the hole hard to figure out, but the distance as well. The fog creates this weird kind of optical illusion where it's very difficult to measure how far the shot should go. Perhaps the visual senses create havoc in your mind, a kind of panic situation, where your thinking gets much more muddled up than it should.

The best strategy is just not to think too much about the less than ideal situation and just stand up to the ball and give it your best. Also, you need to accept the fact that if you miss the target, it was not just caused by mishitting but by that irksome fog as well.

I guess you have to be pretty addicted to the sport of golf in order to want to play in such an annoying climate, but it's still great fun. That once in a lifetime shot that lands right next to the flag becomes even more miraculous.

I was born and raised in sunny California where at an early age I was blessed with the opportunity and the ability to hone my golfing skills.

So it is not hard to understand that the approaching winter and inherent lower temperature is something I find very difficult to appreciate let alone accept.

The air is colder and the ball becomes hard and untrustworthy. The normally massive drives will stutter and fail in midair, diving downwards prematurely and hitting the fairway tenfold meters shorter than usual.

The swing of the club is frigid and cramped, the muscles in your arms and legs stretching uncomfortably at best. You reminisce about that snap-of-the-whip crack of the club striking the ball but feel an awful muffled thud instead.

I guess the part I dislike the most is that my hands are frozen and stiff, despite the fancy new winter gloves I bought. Just grab onto the club and hold on tightly, hoping for the best.

The good thing though is that mother nature hardens you and helps you mature into the better golfer you were always meant to be. Challenged by the difficult winter conditions, like cold gusts of wind and icy-hard fairways, you are hardened into a truly hero-like golfer.

Good-bye nice golfing season, see you next year. In the meantime, I will try and remain an avid golfer by bearing with mother nature and its inclement conditions.

Later on I will really appreciate the nice warm weather again.

Being able to putt well has nothing to do with the type of putter you are using nor the way you stroke the ball nor how you choose to grip the club nor even whether or not the pendulum movement sways in rhythm to this or that.

The thing that matters is that you are confident that the ball will be stroked correctly according to your mental capabilities, that you visualize the path of the ball and hear beforehand the ball dropping into the cup and making that familiar sound which with evil prediction you hear beforehand in your mind.

Davis Love,
one of the best putters ever.

Whether you are putting for a birdie, trying to make par or desperately hoping to hook in a very long putt for a saved bogie, it doesn't really matter. It could be an easy tap in or an impossibly long putt from one side of the green to the other. The ball is here and the hole is over there, to make ends meet, connecting this point to that.

Before you make the putt you know for sure that it will drop. You are standing there and gazing down the slope, the path that the ball will take is not some pre-calculated mathematical parabola, but an inner gut-feeling that the ball will first go this way and then that way, but at the last moment home in to where it counts. Maybe it is even so simple as a very straight putt, but in your mind really a thousand times more difficult than that.

Ram the ball into the hole, slide the ball in at maximum curvature, or hit the ball straight in, whatever that may mean. Just be a man, stand up to the ball and hit it where it is supposed to be you idiot.

I remember playing an important match coming in as the last group, and it was up to me to make a simple two foot putt for the big win, and very sorry to say that I missed it. There were many moans and groans from all of my team members, and the coach also looked at me and shook his head. For the next week I felt like jumping off of a bridge. But I didn't.

Other times during less dramatic but no less important matches, and without thinking or even caring, I've made the most amazing putts for birdie and have felt really great winning at the last moment.

It doesn't really matter, whatever happens just happens and that's just the way things are, or were always meant to be.

We were an amazing team and played a stellar round of Texas scramble that day. Between the four of us, we ended up at no less than six under par for the day. Unfortunately, not enough to beat out those hacker high-handicappers, but in our minds we were the best team for the day, if not for all of history.

Michael, Danny, Bernhard and Kiffin
Rijnmond Business Trophy

For the last couple of weeks my putting has been truly atrocious. On average I have at least 5-6 three putts per round, and once a round I have a longish fifteen footer and the ball barely makes it half way to the hole.

So I dug around in the darkest corner of the garage where I keep my old golf stuff and found a classic mallet putter which I once used in my youth during a streak of amazingly good golf scores.

Golfcraft Brass Combo Frank Johnston El-Rio Model

I brushed off all of the cobwebs and cleaned it. Since the golf course was closed today due to very wet weather, I could only hit balls on the driving range and then putt around on the practice green. I brought this ancient putter with me and gave it a go. Who knows, maybe there's still some magic in it after all these years.

Here's what happened. I sunk the first two balls on the very first hole. I then proceeded to sink the next ball on the second hole, followed by a lip out and a third ball which lipped to the back of the hole and hovered half way over the hole but didn't drop in. The first loop around the practice green resulted in seven aces and not a single three putt. None of these putts were easy and most of them had a significant break in them.

Could this be just a fluke? Or is the classical design really much better than the more modern variations? To be honest, the club head is ugly and when you stroke the ball you feel amazed that you can even hit the ball solidly. But you can, and the ball rolls true. I even tried jabbing the ball, and even then it goes right in the hole as if a magnet is pulling it down under. I also tried whacking longish putts from one side of the practice putting green to the other, and the ball still rolled great.

I should start using it and blow away my opponents. They seem to think that they are more professional golfers and better putters with those fancy and very expensive brands of today. When in the end I could use my clunker ancient-looking putter and one putt half of the holes on the course. I wonder if I have the nerve to use it in the important tournament this weekend. I think I do.

There is nothing in the world more invigorating than an early morning round of golf, teeing off as the very first flight and having the golf course all to yourself.

Your body might at first feel a little stiff, but after a few deep breaths of the crisp morning air and the smell of the moist grass filling your mind with pleasant thoughts of the many birdies to come, you are ready to go.

The sun is just beginning to rise on the distant horizon, the orange shimmering ball of fire welcoming you to the early morning adventure, rays of light bringing warmth and good will to your game.

The first drive is always a bit of a gamble as you are not feeling real confident swinging the club. Just take back the club slowly, make an easy swing and more often than not the ball will fly pretty straight, if not right down the middle of the fairway.

View from the first tee at sunrise (6:40).

This has to be the craziest most unusual roller-coaster ride nine holes I've ever had in my life. It started out pretty bad, looked good for awhile, and then at the end it blew up completely in my face.

Getting a double-bogie on the first hole was a bummer, especially when it was followed by a bogie, meaning that I was already three over par after only two holes.

A par on the third hole was more like it, and at that point I felt like things had settled down. If I got lucky I could shave off a couple of those strokes with a birdie or two later on.

Then the magic came. Birdie, birdie and then an eagle (finally, it was my first eagle at my home course since I joined three years ago). Four under in just three holes, equalizing that lousy start and putting me one under. Feeling pretty darn good, indestructible now.

A par four on the seventh, so far so good. At that point I was feeling pretty strong, like I could still pull off a birdie or two before I made the turn.

That was when disaster struck...

The drive on number eight faded ever so slightly, cleared the bunker on the right, but ended under a tree on the other side. I meant to play it safe by just punching a seven iron into the fairway, but I hit it a tad too purely, ending up right on the edge of the lateral hazard, balanced on a pillow of grass hanging over the water with nowhere for me to stand. I balanced precariously on my tip toes, but then I whiffed the ball, yes you heard me right, I missed the ball completely (hadn't done that in many years). Then I managed to connect to the ball, but pulled it way left into the woods and high brush, no way I'd ever find that ball again. Dropped and made a nervous swing, punching my seven iron to the front of the green. Finally, I three putted from there for a very painful nine, which is a quintuple bogie. From one under par to four over in the span of one lousy hole.

I should have used my brain and taken a drop from the hazard and accepted a double-bogie. If the ball had only rolled half a millimeter further, it would have fallen into the water and I would have had to drop anyway. But you know how it goes when you're hot, you get cocky and think that you have supernatural powers. I'm a jerk and I know it.

A par on the ninth would have been nice, but I was pretty shaken up after the previous hole, hit my drive real fat, had to be satisfied with chip and two putt for a bogie.

To recap the roller coaster golfing adventure fiasco: double-bogie, bogie, par, birdie, birdie, eagle, par, quintuple-bogie, bogie. Which all adds up to a ho hum forty-one.

Oh well, better luck next time.

When you are ready to putt, address the ball and imagine a white line defining the curved and convoluted path that the ball will take as it travels across the surface of the green to the center of the hole.

The ball starts off fast and then slows down as it nears the final destination, certain areas of unevenness causing the white orb to bounce or vibrate ever so slightly, but not enough to cause it to veer off of this predestined trajectory.

Your opponent's eye is glued to its snake-like motion and he is hoping that the ball will slide past the hole or even lip out at the last moment, but you know better what is really going to happen. The mental vision will become reality before you realize it.

In your mind's eye, visualize the ball disappearing into the dark hole and making that wonderful sound as it rattles around at the bottom of the cup.

The putter swings like a soft pendulum and strikes the ball like a slightly resistant cushion, momentum is imparted according to nature's way, the ball slides along that white line so clear in your mind, and you sink the putt to win.

Once in a lifetime you have the greatest round of golf you could have ever imagined. That is exactly what happened to me today. Believe it or not, I managed to shoot an even par round of golf, and I feel great.

With a string of four back-to-back birdies on the front nine, I made the turn at two under par with a thirty-four. Keeping up this tempo was at the back of my mind, and as the last couple of holes approached, I started to get pretty nervous. I was even par with only three more holes to go.

In the last couple of years, I've made it a few times to these very same last three holes with the possibility of scoring great rounds, and each and every time in the end I choked magnificently with a triple or quadruple bogie. I was jinxed, feeling like I was destined to failure no matter how hard I tried. Concentrate, think of nothing, just hit the ball.

There I was again with only three holes standing in my way of a perfect day. However, this time around I knew that today would be different. I was in "the zone" and it felt like no matter what, I could hit that little white ball effortlessly, my drives went right down the middle of the fairways, and my approach shots were flush and ended up close to the flag.

Two pars and only one hole to go. Great five wood down the middle with a hundred yard approach to the flag, and I miss hit the shot slightly, pushing my wedge to the right side just below the green. A short uphill blind chip rolled just past the hole. Then a one putt for par straight into the cup, what a sweet sound the ball makes as it falls into the hole.

I closed my eyes before I bent down to pick up the ball out of the hole. I felt like crying I was so emotional. With a thirty-seven on the back nine, I had bagged an astounding seventy-one. Who ever could have expected this to happen?

I figure that it took me a little more than thirty-five years to shoot even par again, the last time being in my golfing heyday as a seventeen year old golfing dreamer. The enormous hiatus of years had been overcome, and then finally having picked up golf seriously again, the last few years of practice and mental training had proven that I could still do it.

The young buck golfing hero inside of me has finally been liberated.

Yesterday, I challenged the elements by playing my first round of golf of the year. My dear friend nature was unable to stop me with her stormy winds and mighty bursts of intense drizzle. At one point, the wind was blowing so hard that the flags were bent over sideways at nearly ninety degree angles to the ground. With the wind at my back those drives really flew, but then the wind blew straight into my teeth and I became quite humble again.

Considering that I hadn't touched a golf club in almost two months, I managed quite well in hitting the ball, even smashing a couple of impressive drives. One cannot expect miracles on the first day back, but the wonderful feeling of contacting the ball smoothly and forcedly makes me want to come back for more.

I wonder of it'd be worth the hassle of lugging my set of clubs with me to Frankfurt this week. In the evenings, I could swing them around in my apartment and putt a few shots in search of that unattainable perfect feeling.

This year I will have less free time, so I will have to resist the urge to practice golf too much. Instead, I will pursue a healthy and strong attitude on a daily basis, focusing on intense, high-quality 18 hole moments of truth when those days arrive to inspire me on.