There are mornings that are harder. Missing a cut used to be a thing of tragedy but it’s not, it’s just a game. These days, it signals a few things to me. One: it’s the end of a great weekend with friends. I don’t create many of these for myself anymore, so they are special when they happen. Two: it’s the correct evaluation of my golf game. I don’t really play much anymore, so how upset can I really be. The practice tee is not tournament competition. The feeling is so different. You can’t prepare without playing.  Three: I am out of fucking shape. I should not be this tired from playing golf. I need to evaluate my physical being. There are more realizations that have come to light this weekend but I’m not going to share them all. The best one however, call it Four: I get to go home early and that means getting there to see my ladies, my family. Miss you both.

So the way I think it healthier than it’s ever been but it still sucks. Guys that miss the cut are called “trunk slammers.” Well, I’m going to gently close mine and move on down the road. 9 hours of windshield time to think about the next one.

2015 Parker Open, 76-81. You humble now Holmes. ((PS, those scores were only about 5 over the cut line, tough for everyone))