The little pine trees along the right side of the fairways seemed innocuous enough. Short and stout, built to create some separation between the 8th and 9th holes. As my golf ball drifted in their direction from the tee box, I assumed my competitive round had started like most of them - with a nervous swing that looped to the right like a kite searching for a gust of wind on a calm day. My playing partners teed off and we headed on down the fairway in search of our golf balls. We had 54 holes of golf ahead of us.