For someone who claims to be a golfer, scoring in the mid-90s is not something to tell my friends about. Golf is a sport of honor, and alerting your friends about such a bad game would be like admitting that your girlfriend dumped you, and that it wasn't a "mutual decision." However, there is only one instance in which I don't care what the scoreboard reflects: playing with Nick. Although some golfers prefer to play tournaments with shiny new drivers and caddies looking out for them, I'm going to play a round of golf with Nick, at perhaps the worst golf course known to man, Hillcrest Golf Club, rather than playing in any country. -club tournament. Now you must understand my friend Nick. He already scored highly on the math section of the PSAT his sophomore year, has a workaholic lawyer father, and recently informed his parents that instead of going to college, he wanted to become a mailman. ..he already has the perfect vehicle for the job. : a broken down 1982 Jeep CJ5. His meteoric rise from hapless hacker of the local par 3 course to All-Area Golf Team honors is also remarkable. We also have to take into account the squalor of Hillcrest Golf Club. Only here can anyone find golfers so drunk that they spin donuts on the 14th green and crash their cart into the lake. As a tractor pulled the cart from its watery grave, one of the men was heard telling his rescuers, "Hey, I don't see my driver in my bag, you better find him." You also won't find male golfers weighing over two hundred and fifty pounds without a shirt and wearing cut-off jean shorts at many other golf courses. As you can see, it's no small claim to say that I'd rather play here than at a well-kept country club. Almost every summer morning, at dawn, Nick rolls our b...... middle of paper. .....ame, I can't pronounce or spell. Our conversation at TJ's isn't limited to golf, as it would be at fancy clubs after tournaments, but is instead open to any topic we want to discuss, from next year's chemistry class to the best Steve Miller song Band. Finally, the experiences and moments Nick and I share are things more precious to me than any golden trophy. Some of the funniest and most relaxing moments of my life have happened while bonding with Nick. We don't care about the score, our shots or even the round. We also don't care if the course only has two grass clippings: rough and green. So while I'll never win one of those shiny first place trophies playing with Nick, the first call I make every summer when I get home is the same number, and when I hear Nick's familiar voice, I smile just anticipating the sound of his voice. CJ echoes down the aisle.