Jeff and I were too busy golfing, drinking, and attending the Red Sox / Rangers game to get the update together this week... we'll post one next week.
The golf was never pretty, but still somewhat fun. I managed to beat Jeff 3 and 1 in our little match, but it was nothing to brag about. Our shots ranged from wildly spectacular to absolutely attrocious. On consecutive holes, Jeff stiffed irons, but would then hit crappy drives and three putts. I either hit a duck hook or 310 yard down the middle drive. Never struck and iron well, and never made a putt. It was really ugly to look at. Even Stan the Man suffered by our mere presence on the course with him.
The best play I made was on the 10th tee. I had been 2-up on the 7th, but Jeff won the last three holes of the nine (par-par-birdie). Seeing little chance to survive the onslaught, I decided to go to the psychological weaponry. As we were approaching the tee, I asked Jeff if he would be my best man in November. He said "yes" but was apparently rattled. He hooked the shit out of his drive, lost the hole, and never recovered. He'll get his rematch in November though.
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