Uncle Ron: Relaxing Saturday at the links

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Written By ArmandoPeterson

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Are you ever on the receiving end a tirade of anger that made you feel threatened or displeased? I experienced exactly that on Saturday at the golf course. My mom and I went on a mini-vacation. We played golf on Saturday with our Uncle Ron, Debbie, and my cousin. My uncle is a good golfer. He can play very well on some days and not so much on others.
Saturday was his best day on the course. He was driving the ball for miles. To show his satisfaction with his success, he had a big smile on his face. It was a wonderful day.

Uncle Ron until the 4th hole

Uncle Ron took a shot that made it look like Bubba Watson had taken possession of it. It was probably the most memorable drive of his entire life. It was almost straight and on the green (it wasn’t a par four).

We are about 50 yards from the group of golfers in front.

This is a huge mistake if you’re a golfer. It is a bad idea barone health center to get nata lee too close to other golfers, let alone over them. A flying golf ball could cause serious injury to someone.

Uncle Ron was 100% at fault and felt horrible for the incredible shot. Terrible for what could’ve happened. He didn’t strike anyone, but the shot was way too high for their heads.

This caused one of the people in the group behind us to be very upset (and rightfully so). He got in his golf cart and raced back to us.

My Uncle Ron began to apologize when he reached us. He accepted full responsibility and was sincere in his apology.

It wasn’t enough for Mr. golfer. He shouted and screamed. Uncle Ron repeated the apology four times more. He stopped talking, clearly not understanding what he was saying to Mr. Golfer.

Then Mr. Golfer threatened us all. He threatened us all with “make sure you don’t play.”

We understood that he meant “or something bad will occur to you” and it was a serious threat to our physical health. My uncle was a credit to me, however. He clarified that he was threatening me, but he didn’t take the bait and didn’t engage in any conversation with Mr. Golfer. He knew this was a recipe for disaster.

After we had stopped responding and Mr. Golfer had finished his screams, he got into his cart and drove away. He looked at Debbie his last time and said, “not smile about this!”