31th Annual Fitton Follies Golf Extravaganza

Thursday, May 16th


Friday, May 17th


 Saturday, May 18th


Golf  Poem 
In  My Hand I Hold A Ball,
White And Dimpled, Rather Small.
Oh, How Bland It  Does Appear,
This Harmless Looking Little Sphere.

By Its Size I  Could Not Guess,
The Awesome Strength It Does Possess.
But Since I Fell  Beneath Its Spell,
I've Wandered Through The Fires Of Hell.

My Life  Has Not Been Quite The Same,
Since I Chose To Play This Stupid Game.
It  Rules My Mind For Hours On End,
A Fortune It Has Made Me Spend.

It  Has Made Me Yell, Curse And Cry,
I Hate Myself And Want To Die.
It  Promises A Thing Called Par,
If I Can Hit It Straight And Far.

To  Master Such A Tiny Ball,
Should Not Be Very Hard At All.
But My Desires  The Ball Refuses,
And Does Exactly As It Chooses.

It Hooks And  Slices, Dribbles And Dies,
And Even Disappears Before My Eyes.
Often It  Will Have A Whim,
To Hit A Tree Or ! Take A Swim.

With Miles Of  Grass On Which To Land,
It Finds A Tiny Patch Of Sand.
Then Has Me  Offering Up My Soul,
If Only It Would Find The Hole.

It's Made Me  Whimper Like A Pup,
And Swear That I Will Give It Up.
And Take To Drink  To Ease My Sorrow,
But The Ball Knows ... I'll Be Back  Tomorrow. 

Thanks to Scott Marshall, our group photographer for all the wonderful pictures.







Memories from Bay Harbor 2013

Fitton Follie Poems
By Derek Schlonsky


Twas the night before follies and all through the state
Not a brother was stirring not even a Nate
The SUVs were filled by golf clubs and gear
With hopes that the drive would be followed with beer
We all go to bed knowing one thing for sure
That golf, booze and caps are the only cure
We all live lives that are all full of crap
And this is the weekend that bridges the gap
That moment in May makes the whole year worthwhile
And thinking about it make all of us smile
Another year of complete debauchery and fun
And according to Rik, it will be full of sun
No matter what happens not a peep can be told
For silence is part of the oath we all hold
So sleep well on this eve of this perfection called follies
We'll see you tomorrow can't wait for the jollies


Ode to the Follies

We excitedly grab our bags of clubs,
Get drinks and drive in May
We have no qualms about no work
We merely want to play.

We briskly walk to reach each hole And tee the ball up high
We swing each club with so much soul
The round just flies right by

But as the beer flows and the game goes on
Ours games all go to hell
But does it really matter when
We create these stories we tell

We press on and play each shot
With worse and worse result
We watch them slice into the rough
And there is no exalt

After time we realize to our dismay
We can no longer see the ball
But the friends we keep will forever be
Our greatest friends of all

The rounds end with strokes so high
You almost don't want to tell
But the scorecard never lies they say

And with drinks it will be well

We should have likely stayed at work
And completed unfinished tasks
But work does not include the fun
Brought on by many flasks

No matter what, we spend each day With people like no other
And when it's done we turn to say
I love you like a brother