The air has a crisp, new bite to it. The leaves are turning from vibrant greens to fiery oranges and reds. While the scenery is beautiful, for a certain kind of person, this change doesn't bring a feeling of cozy anticipation—it brings grief.
We are the golfers of the world, and we are sad. The season is ending.
There’s no "official" final putt for most of us, no dramatic Tour Championship to cap our year. Instead, the golf season ends with a slow, agonizing fade. It's the moment you check the local forecast and see an all-too-familiar, heart-sinking sight: the word "frost" beside a temperature below 40.
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