Rites of Spring

Some people think it's Baseball. The sound of the ball on the bat, the Hot Dog guy, the beer guy. Not in my house. For us it's the spring Re-gripping Party.

Ahh...the smell of Solvent...the stickiness of old grip tape stuck on your fingers...the opportunity to cut yourself using the wrong blade to cut off the old grips. These are the things that starts an old man's blood to boiling...when the yard is still covered with snow, but there's one little corner of the yard where the grass is peeking through, and there's a feeling that Spring is actually going to arrive at some point. Sometime during the Florida Swing I pull out the knife, the tape, and the Solvent, light a fire in the fireplace, and while the wind still blows cold in Western New England, I rip off the old grips and put on the new.

This year is no different. I got up this morning, looked out the window on a blustery, but sunny, early March morning (yep, I did remember to set my clock ahead) and it occured to me that today was the day for re-gripping. I loaded up the woodbox with firewood, checked the TV schedule to see what time the Pods Championship was going to start, made sure there was some cold beer in the fridge, and started looking for my re-gripping supplies. I couldn't find my hook-bladed knife anywhere so I started the process with a straight blade. Didn't take long before I sliced one of my fingers and thought I was done for the day, but I found the hook-blade right where I'd organized it, and got back to work.

So while I watched Stewert Cink crash and burn, and young Mr. OHair (will someone please explain to this young man the correct spelling of his name?) hang on for his second victory, I sat on the couch and pulled the grips off both my and my wife's clubs. Three hours later I had 30 clubs lying, gripless on the floor. It's not the grips that take so long, those are easily removed, it's the old grip tape on top of the build up tape that takes forever. When I was done, I put them away. We'll get to the actual re-gripping another day.

After all...if we did everything today...we wouldn't have anything left to do.

It seems that I, like so many other new bloggers, have disappeared from the Blogosphere.

The truth is there just is not much to write about golf in the Berkshire's these days. That may be because I just don't seem to be very inspired. It could be that there just isn't anything interesting to write about.

It's more likely that it's the damn weather and right now I'm just doing my best to get through the days, hoping the snow will melt, and we can get back to what we do best. Which is to complain about the state of our game.

I just heard from my golf buddy...you know...the one who bailed out on this beautiful winter wonderland and absconded to Miami, where the weather is much nicer. Come to find out that he's only played 6 times in the 6 weeks he's been gone! "What the $%$# have you been doing?" I asked him. "Working" he says. OK he's a writer so I guess he can work anywhere, and being a writer he needs to work when he can, but I was disappointed that he wasn't playing six times a week! I was hoping for a few vicarious birdies...or something.

Just basically unhappy all the way around, I guess.

One ray of hope, in the Berkshire's at any rate. I heard the other day that the Golf Scribe has found a buyer for his site and someone will be continuing the wonderful work that Dom has done over the past few years. I know that a number of people are happy that the Player of the Year competition will continue.

So till next time...I'll be the guy with the snow shovel and the pained expression on his face.