Feels like 106°. That’s what the forecast on my phone indicated as we made the turn at The Cape Club in Palm City, Florida.
It’s July 2026, and I haven’t been in tournament mode in a long while. I had forgotten how challenging it is to maintain tournament focus in extreme heat. Still, I went out in 39 and tried to muster all my mental energy stepping up to the 10th tee box. I knew if I could shoot 2, maybe 3 under on the back, I might have a chance at winning this FSGA event.
It didn’t help that I was sweating in places I never thought I’d feel sweat, and had left my homemade organic bug spray at home. This was a critical error. The mosquitoes were trying to access every hole in my head. I began to feel like Juliane Koepcke during her harrowing 11-day journey to escape an extremely dense jungle. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t quite that extreme, but it was seriously flogging my concentration!
Number 10 at The Cape Club is a particularly interesting par-4. It plays 304 yards from the blue tees and isn’t terribly narrow, but along the entire length of the left-side of the fairway is a steep berm with a waste area adjacent to it. The right side was the play. The GPS showed that a 254-yard shot up the right would place me in a perfect spot to take advantage of the softly fading dogleg-left green.
Sigh. Which club?
My driver, 5-wood, and 3-hybrid were apparently feeling the effects of the heat, too—they all felt like soft candles in my hands. I had been relying on a 2-utility iron and a 5-iron off the tee for the majority of the day. I was flushing my 5-iron 225 yards, and I figured another 225-yard poke would leave me about 75 yards to the hole.
Woooosh. I hit another perfectly flush 5-iron. The exact center of the club face left a temporary tattoo of the sunglasses logo I use on my golf balls. That “tuning fork went off in my loins,” so I knew I’d caught it pure. Sure enough, the ball landed exactly where I needed it in the right-center fairway. I was ready to post a number!
I walked up to find myself 79 yards out because in addition to the heat it was cart-path only! I snagged the 60° wedge from my bag. The green was relatively flat, and the pin was in a generous position just behind and left of center. Hole out, I thought? I hit a perfect wedge shot and—BAM! It hit the flag stick on the second hop, ricocheted right, and settled about 20 feet away. I missed the birdie putt by a whisper and settled for par.
Okay, I thought. I wouldn’t be unhappy with eight more of those.
Then, the wheels just… FELL OFF!
After that par on 10, my scorecard read: par, bogey, bogey, double-bogey, double-bogey, bogey, par, double-bogey.
Yikes. Yes kids, that is what’s called a proper train wreck. A crowd-pleasing 45 coming in. Ugh. That brought me to an 84 gross, and with six handicap holes, a 78 net. To add salt to the wound, I had dropped ten bucks into the skins pot during registration. You’re welcome to whoever walked away with that cash. Geesh!
Comforting myself on the drive home, I recounted my solid iron play. I realized all the holes I blew up on were the result of a lost ball, an OB ball, or the two holes where I pulled driver. I putted well, too, though that isn’t much consolation when you’re making long one-putts for sevens on par-5s.
Looking on the bright side, I didn’t have any triple bogeys. Thank goodness for small miracles!
Fairways & Greens everybody.
Going A Round 
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