Shotgun Start? Nope, FINISH

Check out the eyes.  Cocktails may have been involved.

It's kind of disappointing.   I was certain that I had invented golf's shotgun finish.  Years ago when I still played the game I was famous for my "shotgun finish".  It occurred whenever I became so completely fed up with how a round was treating me that I threw my clubs in the nearest water hazard and went home.  The expense was considerable and the continuing frustration of "a good walk spoiled" convinced me to simply give it up.  I did.  

Even in my playing days it was difficult to imagine why anyone would choose to live on a golf course.  What's the point?  All day long a homeowner serves as a captive audience to a parade of mostly white middle-aged fat guys encased in attire ordinarily reserved for pimps.  And don't get me started on errant Titlists and Maxflies bombarding your domicile like Doolittle's raid on Tokyo. It's enough to spur Gandhi to kickass mode.

That may have been what caused Jeff Fleming of Reno to finally pop his cork.  Mr. Fleming has just entered a guilty plea to battery with a deadly weapon for firing his shotgun at an unsuspecting golfer who was dropping a shot on the 16th hole at the Lakeridge Golf Course the other day.  Old Jeff is now looking at a possible trip to the motel with bars for a ten year jolt and a whopping $10,000 fine when he is sentenced on December 12.

By the way, the wounded golfer is fine.  He was treated for minor injuries to an arm and both legs at a local hospital and is recuperating nicely.

This incident has me wondering if perhaps a few rule changes might perk up the old game of golf just a smidge.  How about arming EVERYBODY?  That could provide some of the real life excitement that the game lacks at present.  Homeowners with strategic mortar and machine gun emplacements coupled with players sporting a sufficient arsenal of guns and ammo would put a certain amount of pop into an increasingly mundane sport.

Heck, changes like that may even provide your corespondent with a renewed yen for a day on the links.  I wonder what the statute of limitations is on that unfortunate incident at my old country club.  Who knew that my party featuring greased pigs,  molasses and an open bar would go south quicker than a bus load of hookers at a Shriner's convention?  

Maybe if I changed my name….

This and a couple of grenades should pep up a round.