Chuck was a popular member at the golf club, but he just finished up a terrible round of golf and wasn’t in the mood to visit the clubhouse after walking off the 18th green. So he headed straight out to the parking lot and started changing his shoes.

Just as he was closing the trunk of his car, a police officer spotted him. The policeman, stern-faced, walked over to Chuck and asked, “”Did you tee off on the sixteenth hole about thirty minutes ago?”

“Yes,” Chuck replied, “yes I did. Is something wrong, officer?”

“Did you happen to hook your tee shot?” the policeman asked.

“Yes, I did,” replied Chuck.

“Did your ball fly over the trees and off the course?” the policeman asked.

“Why, yes, it did,” said Chuck. “Why are you asking me these questions?”

The police officer replied in a very serious and stern manner: “Your ball, sir, flew out onto the highway and crashed through a driver’s windshield. That driver’s car went out of control and spun into a guard rail, where five other cars hit it. Then a fire truck, that was racing to a fire, smashed into the pileup!”

The policeman’s voice was rising with consternation. “The fire truck couldn’t make it to the fire, and the building burned down! All that because you hooked a tee shot!”

The policeman was red-faced, and he paused to catch his breath. “What do you think you should do about all this?” he finally asked Chuck.

Chuck was a sensitive man and an upstanding citizen. He thought it over for a minute, then replied.

“W

 

ell,” Chuck said, “I think I’ll try opening my stance a little.”

The only reason I play golf is to bug my wife.

She thinks I’m having fun.

It was a sunny Saturday morning, a little before 8 a.m., I was on the first hole at The Oaks of St. George Golf Club and beginning my pre-shot routine, when a piercing voice came over the clubhouse loudspeaker:

“Would the gentleman on the woman’s tee back up to the men’s tee please!”

I could feel every eye on the course looking at me. I was still deep in my routine, seemingly impervious to the interruption.

Again the announcement: “Would the man on the woman’s tee kindly back up to the men’s tee.”

I simply ignored the guy and kept concentrating, when once more, the voice yelled, “Would the man on the woman’s tee back up to the men’s tee.

please?!?!”

I finally stopped, turned around, cupped my hands and shouted back: “Would the jerk with the microphone please keep quiet and let me play my second shot!”

The forecast for today and Friday looks great. How about a round of golf.

Mornings – 18 holes w/cart $21 and 9 holes w/cart or 9 holes w/cart for $15

Afternoons – 18 holes w/cart $30 and 9 holes w/cart for $17.50

Make a tee time online at pinevalleyohio.com or give us a call 330-335-3375

For most of the round the golfer had argued with his caddy about club selection, but the caddy always prevailed.

Finally on the 17th hole, a 185-yard par three into the wind, the caddy handed the golfer a 4-wood and the golfer reacted.
“I think it’s a 3-iron,” said the golfer.
“No, sir it’s a 4-wood,” said the caddy.
“Nope, it’s definitely a 3-iron.”

So the golfer set up, took the 3-iron back slowly, and struck the ball perfectly. It tore through the wind, hit softly on the front of the green, and rolled up two feet short of the pin.

“See,” said the caddy. “I told you it wasn’t enough club.”