It was after the 10th hole of the final round, when I knew the plan Eli and I had hatched

that morning was not going to work.

Lenny, please cue the Antel music.

We walked back to the cart and I sank into the passenger seat and I told Eli I needed

to take the 11th hole off.

The format for the final day was a shambled best ball, so I was hoping Eli could hit a

good drive we both could use and I could save some energy.

Eli then roped a driver out of bounds and said, disappointedly, sorry Mike, you need

to hit.

I stumbled out of the cart and gingerly walked over to the tee box.

Up until this point I've been just trying to hit easy guideers and play to save energy,

but we needed to win this hole and Eli was out of bounds.

So I tried for the first time all day a normal swing, and while the ball ended up in play,

the swing hurt everywhere, exhausted and dizzy I slumped back into the cart.

And as we drove up the 11th fairway, I thrashed and rised in the passenger seat trying to find

an angle I could sit that would bring relief.

Do you need to go to the car Eli asked compassionately in the fairway?

No, I said.

The plan was to make it to Amish Corner, I can make it to Amish Corner.

Eli played the rest of 11 by himself and he actually won the hole.

We were still losing with 7 to play, but a comeback was possible, especially with Amish

Corner coming up.

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