Gusts shove the bob while you admire the finish.

Arvo Lindquist keeps a wind log: days the Chippewa ran ice, days Barstow smelled like pulp, days Half Moon fog never lifted. Path error in this town is a weather sheet, not a round count.

If you play Owen Park shade in July, the turf stays wet longer and the trough slides past the ball. If you only walk Water Street in a still October, the same bob can still hang square. Tell the bench the hour, not the handicap.