"WOW!" he interrupted, as only Mr Science can over an email conversation that bridges two continents and 9 time-zones. "He's Great! He's Famous! He's why I count strokes!"
Oh, my sweet lord, I shudda figgered. There ain't enough room on a scorecard for the two of us, for all his hen-scratching . . . so I'll send this book to Mr Science now, where he will treasure it till it is dog-eared with reading and re-reading, whereas for me, as a lost cause, as only such a stubborn know-it-all duffer as myself can be, I would read it and stick it on a book shelf.
I mean, no-doubt, Utley knows whereof he speaks, and he can help those willing to be helped, like Mr Science, who really needs help like Arizona needs day-light-savings time, which is to say, not at all, they have plenty of daylight, even in winter, if you see how I mean . . . but the blizzard of technoalia, like as if, the words would pour over you on the practice range with Mr Utley don't do anything for me . . .that is. I play by feel, that is, I play by how I feel on any given day, and all the tears in the world cannot erase a stroke of it . . .
20 minutes of this and I'll be a basket case -- I'll be weaving baskets instead of playing golf, d'y'see? But Mr Science eats it up, lives on it, swears by it . . . no matter how contradictory, vague, or self-evident, he wants to know and to memorize and to apply it, and in turn, tell everybody else struggling on the golf course ... 8^D ... myself, I go to the other end of the green, stick my fingers in my ears, and sing la-la-la-la loud enough to drown him out till somebody hits into us on the green, trying to hurry us up.
the one thing about Mr Science that bugged me, aside from the way he always hits inside my ball from further out on the fairway . . . 8^0 . . .was how long he would take to putt . . . I mean: nevermind all the breaches of golf etiquette that plague us in these yellow days of debauchery and gauchery, the dude, and I suspect it was not Utley but some predecessor, that sold the world on extended pre-shot routines did us all the Ultimate non-favor, at least those of us interested in 3 hour rounds instead of 5. Mr Science is one of those, the thing is, tho', he makes so many of those putts he studies over you can't say anything, cuz, He Made It. You can't argue with success. So I settle for drinking and club-throwing. . . 8^P . . .
But then he says things like this that I can totally get behind...