April 25, 2012

Last day hitting balls at the Superstition Springs G.C. driving range before shipping the graphite woods back to New England for their debut in cooler weather and thicker grass. How I’ll hit them is anyone’s guess: I think I’m close, but I’m definitely not there yet and not quite where I want to be. There’s still time, of course, but with Goodboys Invitational weekend now less than three months away the clock is ticking.

…which means, of course, less than three months until the British Open. I can’t wait.

I wanted to hit the range on a Tuesday afternoon just to see what the place was like on a broiling weekday afternoon. The same retired fellow was there that I’ve seen every time I’ve gone out there this year. Until today it was always on a Friday afternoon, but the fact he was there on a Tuesday leads me to believe he’s a regular range rover. Follows the same routine: lays a club down at his feet to make sure he’s squared up, hits ten balls, sits down for about ten minutes, then does the same thing all over and over again. I couldn’t hit balls as often as that.

Still, I’ve enjoyed going to the range this year and hitting balls under a bright blue sky with the warmth of the sun, the sound of balls being hit, and the casual golf talk of the other players creating a lovely pastiche for the senses. It’s taken me a long time to accept the fact that I’m always going to be scrambling whether or not I’m at the range or actually playing; now that I can I actually enjoy myself whether I’m hitting the ball good or not. Knowing what I need to work on helps a lot – golf is already enough of a humbling game without adding to the fact you don’t know what you’re doing wrong!

This post’s title comes from a song that popped into my head out of nowhere while I was hitting balls – actually, after a 7-iron hit absolutely on the screws. I always liked the tune – I remember it from my teens – and you don’t see lyrics like these any more:

I remember when the sunlight had a special kind of brightness
And laughter held a lover’s kind of lightness, yellow days, yellow days.
She would hold me and the smile would spread around us so completely
And the softness of a kiss would linger sweetly, yellow days, yellow days.
But then came thunder and I heard her say goodbye
Through tears of wonder, now I’m alone and my heart wants to know
Yellow days, where’d you go?
Life is empty and the sunlight seems so harsh instead of tender
And the laughter’s just an echo I’ll remember yellow days, yellow days.
Now I’m alone and my heart wants to know
Yellow days, where’d you go?
Life is empty and the sunlight seems so harsh instead of tender
And the laughter’s just an echo I’ll remember yellow days, yellow days

Percy Faith did the version I remember, and it’s been covered by a slew of artists, but I particularly enjoy this Frank Sinatra version backed with a swingin’ Duke Ellington arrangement. Taste, class, and appreciation!

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 00:46 | Comments Off on Yellow Days
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