It's been a sleepless week as the memory continues to haunt me. With each spoonful of cereal, lathering of shampoo, or any second left alone with my own thoughts my mouth is agape and a rock my head side to side in disbelief that I missed a very specific putt. 

This wasn't just any pin high right to left slider running downhill towards a taunting false front. No, this was a lucrative net-eagle look sponsored by my playing opponents' Social Security checks. This was Vern's weekly Ensure budget, Marv's Depends dollars, Randy's carton of Camel's allowance, this was a high stakes putt. Knowing this full well and after carefully interpreting the my understanding of the roll and break, I absolutely fucking nuked it past the hole and left myself more than 10ft coming back for a Par save.