Monarch Bay Golf Club -- Dan's 30th Bday - 1/26/09

The wind blew, oh how it blew.

And despite the Old Bears' second group having nearly consumed a 30-pack by hole number 7, they played on through the blustery torrents of driving rain, ubiquitous goose shit and impossible to read greens where the ball seemed to ebbed and flow to its own natural rhythm, mirroring the crooked trajectory of a tee shot blown seventy-odd yards to the left or right by the howling wind, only to fall and lay asunder while the confounded (and drunk) Bears searched hopelessly through thick, matty clumps of grass and weeds, almost always to no avail and almost always without a care for the Old Bears, skilled though they may be, depart wives, girlfriends and masters of fins for the wide fairways and oddly placed pot bunkers of the Bay Area's finest (and cheapest) golfing establishments for one reason, and one reason only: Vanquishing our foes, those foes being the sloth and complacency so common as once great athletes, legendary conquerors of Midwest sorority sluts and dudes who are totally OK living with their parents at age 26 slide down the slippery slope of middle age. But we, the Old Bears, battle on, steadfast in our belief that beer, pot, golf and good friends (in that order) will always overcome our fears of becoming old and boring and almost always stem our steadily retreating hairlines, forestalling the inevitable in a puff, a sip, a chip.


Amen.