THE CHEAP SEATS with STEVE CAMERON: This !@#$%^& weather is messing with my golf game

OK, Mother Nature.

Enough is enough.

Do I have to buy you a calendar, or what?

Seriously, Wednesday is the first day of June, for heaven’s sake.

June, you know …

June, as in sunshine, gentle breezes, shorts and Polo shirts, a little time at the pool, and most important of all …

Golf.

Yes, those of us who care enough will go out in the fog and clouds, endure some drizzle for two or three holes, and clomp through mud to reach a nice drive that hit the center of the fairway — but wound up in an inch-deep puddle.

Look, I lived several years in Scotland, so we trudged through this sort of weather routinely.

Any month of the year.

But that was almost two decades ago, when my back had never met a surgeon and I could pull a golf cart (they’re called trolleys in Britain) over miles of hill and dale.

THIS IS a completely different deal.

Even up here at the roof of the United States, we’re used to our gorgeous days — and you’d think we should have had a month of them already.

Nope.

I’m not seeing much to love in our forecasts, either.

Let me explain why I’m especially grumpy at the moment.

My lifetime dream was to live on the golf course, and it all came true about four years ago, when we bought a condo right on the third fairway at Twin Lakes Village.

For about six months every year, I could go out in the morning, play in the heat of the day if it seemed like fun, and then maybe get in nine holes come the evening.

Paradise.

Except …

I managed to play in the late afternoon last week, bundled up like a mountaineer taking on the Himalayas.

It was worth the trouble, because …

See, I hadn’t swung a club in well over a year.

Since the last time I teed it up on the links right outside my window, I’ve had pneumonia that left me hospitalized, an emergency operation to remove a tumor from the wall of my stomach … and two back procedures that felt like a walk in the park compared to everything else.

I’m on closer personal terms with the doctors and nurses at Kootenai Health than with most of my neighbors.

I have so many scars that my torso looks like a map of Seattle.

Just for the record, though, I’m not complaining about this sudden tsunami of health issues, because I’ve been fit and feeling fabulous most of my life.

Welcome to the law of averages.

And, yep, the law of getting older.

THE DEAL now, however, is that I’ve been a relentlessly good patient.

I’ve gone back for check-ups what seems like every 10 minutes, turned up for MRIs and chest scans and that thing where they stick a telescope down your throat.

And I’ve rehabbed like a mad man.

The bottom line …

Finally, finally, I feel doggone great.

GREAT!

So, I want to go downstairs, enjoy the membership for which they charge a handsome amount, and play my golf course.

Some variety would be terrific at this point, too.

My friend Hal has invited me over to play Avondale, and a fellow I know wants me to enjoy a round at Circling Raven, down in Worley.

In fact, this area is pretty much covered with neat golf courses.

I’d love to try them all, since I can now swing a 3-wood without dropping to my knees in pain.

I’m ready, and I’m guessing most of North Idaho’s golf junkies feel the same way.

Is it asking too much for the sun to come out?

I did mention it’s going to be June, didn’t I?

Maybe I need a trip back to Scotland for some good weather.

Or even further north, to the Shetland Islands.

Fore, lads!

Email: [email protected]

Steve Cameron’s “Cheap Seats” columns appear in The Press three times each week. He also writes Zags Tracker, a commentary on Gonzaga basketball which is published monthly during the off season, and weekly beginning in October.

Steve suggests you take his opinions in the spirit of a Jimmy Buffett song: “Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On.”

This column, by the way, was written for Mike Patrick, who threatened to kick my butt if I didn’t follow the medics’ instructions — and get well enough to tell the “Swede story” to some of our pals at The Press.