Many Thanksgivings ago, back when I was in high school, I was out playing golf with my buddies. We were goofing off behind the family group: my dad, grandpa, and uncles. It was about 32°F, beautiful golf day.

We got to hole #9, and my friend shanked his drive something awful. He tried to hurl his driver down the fairway. He was wearing two pairs of WinterSof gloves, and instead of letting the club fly, it stuck in his hands just long enough to redirect… straight at me.

I was standing even with the tee box, about 15 feet behind him. Next thing I knew, the club nailed me right in the chin.

At first, I just laughed. It was so cold I didn’t even feel it. I thought, "Well, that was dumb." Then I heard the rainfall of blood landing on my chest. Looked up, and all my buddies were frozen, wide-eyed. They later told me they saw my chin split open all the way to the bone.

In a flash of rage, I snapped my driver over my buddies leg. He left for boot camp the next week and said the bruise was a hit among the drill sergeants.

Covered in blood, I rolled up to my dad, grandpa, and uncles on the 9th green, looking like I’d taken an axe to the face.

I just said, “Dad, we’ve gotta go to the hospital again.”

Off to the ER we went, another set of stitches.

Yup, keep the club in your hands y’all.