88 is a really big number to put on a scoreboard. It’s the kind of number that retires men. It puts you in your place and basically says that you should have done something better with your Monday. It’s a harsh reality that you weren’t prepared, again; that you are playing injured, again; and that life and age have caught up to your game, again. Ten years ago, in my first US Open qualifier, I missed advancing by losing in a playoff at Phoenix Country Club. I slammed my clubs in the trunk on my car and proceeded to destroy my liver for a couple days while withdrawing form the world. Yesterday, I posted the second highest score in my competitive career and I put my clubs in the trunk of my car. My beautiful wife drove us home, we got something to eat and proceeded to talk about our future as parents and our new home in which we will be moving into next month sometime. I guess you can say that life certainly does not echo what happens on the playing field. I posted after the round yesterday that I chipped in on 18 to avoid shooting 89. I just wanted people to know that it’s ok to fall down sometimes. I played them all, I putted them all out and I am not ashamed. Is this the last event for me? We’ll have to wait and see.

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