Yellow Ball

Like I can’t read. Haters just gonna hate.

What is it with you guys? What do you have against my family members. Heck, I haven't even done anything to you YET.

Has no one warned him! Look at his photo in the Vice Iron testing. He rides a skateboard on the golf course, has a head cover with hair on it and he calls a guy with a yellow ball a weirdo.

You all know I can't float. Newman looks like he can float just fine.

Finally someone I like.

Just chillin in Matt's bag.

Yellow Ball goes to Virginia. Once upon a sun-drenched afternoon in Virginia, the golfers gathered at the pristine Kingsmill Resort. Among them was a peculiar little golf ball named **Yellow Ball**. Now, Yellow Ball wasn't your ordinary dimpled sphere. No, he had a mischievous glint in his core, and a penchant for causing chaos on the fairways. Yesterday there was no need to torment this group. The course was difficult enough. But today my friends is a new day. The 20 odd Forum Members —stalwarts of the game—had no idea what awaited them. They teed off, blissfully unaware that their fate rested in the hands (or rather, dimples) of Yellow Ball. As the first golfer swung, Yellow Ball whispered in Bryan’s ear, "Hook left, my friend!" And sure enough, the ball veered sharply into the rough. Ben, the second golfer steps onto the tee box. "Fade right my friend" and it went right into the trees. Another golfer lined up for a putt. Yellow Ball rolled a little closer and murmured, "Too much power, my dear." The putt sailed past the hole, leaving the golfer scratching his head. Yellow Ball giggled. It wasn’t just the hard rock challenge. As the day wore on, Yellow Ball's antics escalated. He hid in the tall grass, waiting for unsuspecting golfers to approach. When they did, he'd give a little hop, causing their shots to go awry. Sand traps became his playground. He'd nestle into the sand, making it impossible for golfers to escape cleanly. Will they blame Yellow Ball, or should they be blaming themselves? Maybe, just maybe there might have been a little too much alcohol consumed last night Right Jeff? "Who's responsible for this cursed ball?" grumbled Matt, one of the golfers, wiping sweat from his brow. But as usual Yellow Ball remained silent, blending in with the other dimpled orbs. He reveled in the chaos he sowed—the shanked drives, the missed putts, the frustrated curses echoing through the trees. I may or may not have left Matt some presents to remind him of me after the trip. The golfers exchanged bewildered glances. Scores soared, handicaps crumbled, and many a ball needed retrieval. Yellow Ball relished it all. He even rolled into the water hazard once. Yellow Ball bobbed on the surface in his life vest, laughing silently. By the 18th hole, the golfers were frazzled. Their swings resembled drunken dances, and their once-pristine golf bags were now filled with dirty clubs and shattered dreams and far less balls than when they started the day. Yellow Ball perched on the final tee, grinning like a mischievous imp. Jose stepped up, eyes narrowed. "This is it," he muttered. "I'll conquer you, Yellow Ball." He swung with all his might, and Yellow Ball soared into the azure sky. But just as it seemed the ball would land safely over the trees on hole 18 and go toward the green, a gust of wind nudged it off course, hit the tree as was never to be found again. Jose stared in disbelief. "That's it," he declared, "I'm done." And so, Yellow Ball's reign of chaos came to an end that day. The golfers vowed never to speak of that fateful day again. But deep down, they knew—the mischievous Yellow Ball had etched himself into their golfing lore.

The Tee-Off Trepidation Twenty or so golfers from the MGS Forum stood in the early afternoon heat, hailing from all parts of the country and one from another. They were ready to embark on their first round of golf at the Royal New Kent golf club in Virginia, a place renowned for its lush fairways, challenging greens, and even more challenging layout than they were used to playing. Among the group, there was a mix of emotions. Some were nervous, their palms slightly sweaty as they tightened their grips on their clubs. Others were anxious, their minds racing with thoughts of slicing drives into the hazards or three-putting on those undulating greens. Just maybe they might have been afraid of me. Yup, old Yellow Ball on site to- well, let’s say have someone else to blame for their performance, or lack of. Chuck, retired from the investment industry, adjusted his cap nervously. He’d been practicing his swing for weeks, but the thought of teeing off in front of his peers made his knees wobble. His golf buddies for the day exchanged glances. Knowing that the same thoughts were going through their heads as well. The unspoken but well known first tee jitters. Tom, a sales executive, paced near the clubhouse. He checked and rechecked his golf bag three times, convinced he’d forgotten something crucial. His heart raced as he imagined the first tee box—a row of expectant eyes watching his every move. Jason fiddled with his lucky ball marker. He read about the challenging course —the narrow fairways, the strategically placed bunkers. His excitement mingled with apprehension. Would he rise to the occasion or crumble under pressure? As the sun hit its peak of the afternoon, the group gathered at the first tee. The Pro shop attendant, a weathered man smiled warmly. “Welcome to Royal New Kent,” he said. “Remember, it’s just a game. Enjoy the journey.” Robert, a seasoned golfer with a twinkle in his eye, stepped up. He swung smoothly, the ball soaring somewhere, but not exactly on his intended target line. Looks like I’ll have to go find a member of the family later. The others watched, their nerves amplified by Robert’s drive. One by one, they teed off. Some found the fairway; others veered into the rough. It was only the first hole and I could see I wouldn’t have to work hard today. The scores would not be pretty. But as they walked toward their balls, something magical happened. The worries melted away—the pressure of work, family, and life—replaced by the rhythm of the game and making new friends. Jeff, sank a tricky putt on the third green. His anxiety transformed into determination. Derek, laughed as he chipped out of a bunker. His nervousness had given way to camaraderie. By the time they reached the back nine, the golfers were a tight-knit crew. They shared stories, ribbed each other about missed shots, and reveled in the beauty of the course and the distant sound of laughter from other groups on the course. As the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the fairways, they gathered on the 18th green. The starter stepped forward “You’ve conquered Royal New Kent,” he said. “And more importantly, you’ve conquered your fears.” Those who feared embarrassment, grinned. Jason, who’d worried about forgetting his lucky ball marker, held it tightly. And Matt, who’d feared slowing down after traveling all day, walked with a heart full of pride. That’s all he had to walk away with. Sure, wasn’t many balls left in his bag. And so, the Tee-Off Trepidation turned into the RNK Chronicles—a story of nerves, camaraderie, and the joy of swinging a club on a sunny afternoon in Virginia. No one knew or even cared about the scores. It was all about the time spent together making friends. As they clinked glasses in one of the condo’s that night, they knew they’d remember this trip forever—the way golf had united them, turning anxiety into triumph, one swing at a time. I was fortunate to have been with them this day watching as always. This was a bond that even I could not rattle. I gave them someone to blame, laugh at, and shout some choice words at, and I would do it all over again. To think that this was only the first day and there were three more rounds to play. Hey I’m not always a RICHARD. But there is always tomorrow. I will say there are plenty of balls to be found off the beaten path. There just might be one or two guys heading out to buy more balls! PS: I saw Matt squatting down just off the fairway. Sure looked suspicious to me. There were porta potties out there. Just saying!

Geez, if anyone was dumb as a rock right now it would be you for stating this right before an outing. Hope you can sleep with one eye open. Plan on sleeping with your mouth closed as well or you just might wake up to a funky taste. I'm already a couple miles up the road and gathering my troops. Gentlemen, we have a mission. Our target is Matt Swanson. There shall be no mercy. His rear is in need of more dimples than he already has. He needs to see trees, bushes, fried eggs, his ball in divots, and definitely some water. One of you needs to get a sympathy card for his family. He shall return home a broken man. Am I clear? Yes sir.................

You are correct!

I'm going sensitive on you now. I've been a thorn in golfers sides for most of my life. Been purposely hit into ponds, cursed at, had my face bashed in too many times to remember. Okay I might have deserved it. But if they were better golfers they wouldn't windup where they did. So my walk up song would be " If I could turn back time" by Cher. The lyrics fit. "The words I said" "The things I did." Now that you are all singing it in your head we can move on. Maybe I could have been different. Maybe golfers would not fear me. Okay that was some bull . I ENJOY BEING AN ArSS. By the way we need a donkey imoji.

Wow, this Luray Caverns place was cool. Did you know they have a golf course right there. Luray Country Club. What a blast, I messed with so many golfers. You know I have to get in peak form for the outing. Look what I did to this guy. They have this thing called the cave hole. Yup, play it as it lies buddy. I still got it! Glad he was wearing red. Matched his face after seeing where his ball went. PS: Their logo ball was not very impressive. But we were hanging out for a while. And you thought I really wasn’t coming didn’t you.

Caught me a ride sitting on the dashboard! Look who's getting closer! Thinking I'm going to bail out when I get closer to Luray Caverns. Rolling around in a cave will be a new experience for me.

It getting closer now and unfortunately for some of you, so am I. Rolling on through Pennsylvania now. By the way your roads suck. I’ll have to stop at MACO for a dimple and paint job. I’ve been thinking on how to help out @GolfSpy SAM at Kingsmill. Well, Matt I found some tees that will guide you on your journey to find your ball. Read the fine print. Sorry, I drank the beer already!

@Samuel09152 You may or may not know me. But I am typically a ball buster (get it). But I wanted to let you know I’m watching. Keep up the good work and I might even help you to break 85. But you need to do two things. 1. Use a yellow ball or all bets are off. 2. Follow through on your commitments. Fail and become a victim of the Yellow Ball Roast’s thread. I’m watching, always watching.