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Sacrifices must be made

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Oh, they look docile enough. But looks can be deceiving. And I'm not talking about any of the golf holes at Whistling Straits. Not a single one of those golf holes could remotely be described as docile.

What I'm talking about is the herd of Scottish sheep that roam the dunes at Whistling Straits.

I have played one round of golf at Whistling Straits and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I'm a huge fan of Irish golf links and in fact I've spent a significant amount of time in Ireland over the past 10 summers. At courses like Ballybunion, Waterville, Doonbeg, Lahinch, and Tralee. I love the bunkering and the way the fescues change color and texture during the course of a round.

I'm also a fan of Pete Dye.

Visually there is a lot happening on his golf courses but there is always a strategy working. Sometimes you have to search for it, but it's always there. Challenge a hazard or obstacle and you will be rewarded.

So for me, pulling two favorites together, Irish links and Pete Dye, is a no-brainer.

My only complaint is the sheep. They really look cute. But those critters are downright mean.

During my round at Whistling Straits I purchased a sandwich out on the back nine from one of those roving beverage carts. As I was mindlessly unwrapping the sandwich while walking up to the next tee the heard made its move. The pack leader got between me and the tee. He was big and menacing. He had sharp nasty teeth and his massive horns were all banged up with battle scars. His intentions were clear. I was to give up the sandwich or my round was over.

I felt like I was getting mugged outside an airport. And the really difficult thing is that I was very hungry. Being the quick thinker that I am, a brilliant solution shot across my mind. I calmly placed HALF of the tuna on wheat on the ground at my feet. And with a confidence that greatly exceeded my fear I walked right by the massive beast and boldly hit my drive down the middle of the fairway.

I never looked back to see if my sacrifice was accepted but the fact that I wasn't gored on the spot leads me to believe that it was sufficient.

I still have nightmares about that monster but they are softened by the sweet dreams of playing Whistling Straits