As I sit here on Thursday night, I’ve been procrastinating on writing another serious column where I reflect on my California adventure nearly two months ago.

Instead, I’m sorting through the nearly 200 golf balls I’ve managed to find in the woods since I started playing earlier this year.

When you’re as bad as I am, you’ve got to find a little joy in the middle of the missed shots and inevitable growing pains of learning the game.

And as I told Jason last week, it would be miserable to be a sub-par golfer and take it seriously. Talk about a double shot of pain.

But bad golf rolls off me like water off a duck. That keeps me focused on improving… and on spotting errant balls.

I may not be able to read my phone in the morning without glasses, but I can spot a ball from 30 yards away. Th

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