Last summer I was out for a round with my good buddy Scott. We were both playing reasonably well, and were very competitive all day long. It gets to the par four 18th hole and I've got to make a birdie to beat him. I hit a great drive up the right side that ended up just about 105 yards to the pin. A perfect sand wedge for me.
Of course Scott being the good competitor he is, bangs his up the middle just past me, and with a better look at the hole location.
We march up the fairway together, with regular chatter. No one mentions what is on the line. No less than pride and a pint in the clubhouse, of course. We get to our balls and sure enough I'm away.
I survey the situation, the pin is tucked back right behind a deep bunker. The same light right to left breeze continues to blow. I thought to myself, I've got to fire at it! I've got to put some pressure on him!
I pull out my sand wedge and begin my routine. I setup over the ball, ready to hit. The breeze picks up slightly and I step off the shot. As I reassess the situation, I notice my wife standing on the balcony of the clubhouse drinking a martini. I shrug it off and as the breeze settles I run through my routine once again, setting up to the ball. I hesitated to take the club back. And I stepped back yet again. By this point I'm sure Scott was bothered to no end. He asked, "Why on earth are you taking so long?"
"My wife is up there watching me from the clubhouse," I said. "Holy crap Man!," said Scott, "you ain't got a chance in hell of hitting her from here."