Golf at Francis Byrne

Located in Essex County, N.J., Francis Byrne suffers from a North Jersey mentality, I'm afraid. But once you get away from the cramped parking lot and the ramshackle club house and the loudspeaker barking orders ("You're on the tee!") the course takes a turn for the better -- morphing into a replica of a classic mountain course. Squint your eyes and you could be in the Catskills -- nay, the Adirondacks!

I joined Chris Ware and Hal Cohen for my round on a beautiful Sunday. Johnathon Youngblood was supposed to be our fourth. He was a no show. Then Chris casually mentioned that he had enough time for nine maybe 10 holes.

In retrospect, my game was ruined at that point. Although some would argue that the turning point came a half-hour later on the first tee when I a) witnessed Hal and Chris hit pop ups, b) announced that I would certainly not hit a pop up with my low-teed fairway wood and c) popped it up.

Let's face it, when you're not driving the ball well, golf is drudgery. I drudged up and down these hills while Hal, who up until this point had never beaten me, was somehow avoiding trouble. You can usually count on Hal to explode on at least three holes per side, and take a few holes from him with a bogie, or even a double. But not today. Not at Byrne. The normally eratic Hal was absolutely boring in his consistency. My scrambling was ineffective. Lost three ways.

In the above photo you see me, juggling a ball at left-- a picture of confidence. And Hal, depressed and hungover. Let this be a lesson: looks are deceiving. That man slumped against the bench is enjoying the greatest thrill of his golfing career -- he's beating me three ways on a $2 nassau.