After the Tourney is Over . . .

Lexi Thompson joins the Poppy's Pond Jump Club

I have a kind of morning after feeling as I confront a cold, dreary Monday with a long to-do list that just doesn't inspire me.  What's this about?

Sunday was an all-around golf day.  I have a long history of slipping out to the golf course on Sunday morning for 9 holes of solitary practice, throwing down another ball, or two or even three to correct a bad shot, try a shot with two or three different clubs, and so I slipped out to the course and played 9 just to give my new shoulder another road test, enjoyed a pleasant Sunday brunch, and then settled down in front of the television and readied myself for what I'd anticipated would be a riveting four-way battle for the Kraft Nabisco Championship.  Sunday began with the promise of being the sort of day I generally enjoy, but this Sunday didn't sparkle and fizz.

Confessions of a Golf Addict

So I need to back up before I can go forward with this confession . . . to that pesky shoulder injury -- the one that involved some calcification, perhaps a tear in my rotator cuff, and some issue with my bicep tendon that was causing chronic tendonitis -- that was interfering with my swing.

After spending months swinging my sticks and suffering, and then more months with the physical therapist and still suffering with and without swinging, I gave in and scheduled the surgery I'd been trying to avoid because everybody (translate: everybody with whom I golf regularly who knew at least one other golfer who'd had shoulder surgery) kept telling me I'd be out of golf for at least three and probably six months, and six months without golf felt like an impossibly long time to me.