Guest post by Herb Green

For those that don’t know, golf and weed go together like peanut butter and jelly. Puff the right strain before a match and you might find that elusive ‘zone’ pro athletes refer to. That is, if you puff the right strain and have a true belief in your skills beforehand. That sounds like some emotional counseling, and it kind of is. Often with golf, especially when there is money on the table, you have to look at yourself in the mirror like Stuart Smalley and say, “I am good enough today.”

Try that after smoking some Green Crack, however. We make fun of the strain’s name in my circle of smoky friends for obvious reasons, but fuck; I now fully understand the naming association. It makes you feel like running a quick 10k, just to get away from ‘whatever.’

There are so many strains out there now that finding five positive matches for producing good golf scores might take forever, so I rolled the dice and let the brilliant budtenders at Canna West Seattle pick five strains for me at random, the results of which are detailed below.

Green Crack, Northwest Connoisseur’s

Positives: The green crack powered me through a light wind and rainstorm, to a tune of even par with two birdies, in spite of missing nearly every fairway…

Negatives: I missed every fairway — just wacky off the tee. And paranoid as hell! There was some strange dude (it is a country club) walking the course with just one club, sort of hitting a ball terribly here and there, not following the holes. He played across my hole three times. No acknowledgement and he had his hood on so I could not see his face. Dude was freaking me out. So I turned off my headphones, grabbed my 7-iron out of my bag and planned for something crazy to happen. Fortunately he disappeared into the mist after the 4th hole.

Analysis: Avoid? I’m torn. My score was hot and I flew through the course physically, but playing from the wrong fairway hole after hole was a drag and the paranoia was dubious.

White Widow, Dynamic Harvest

Positives: This dope turns your brain off, literally melting that shit away, until you miraculously enter ‘the zone’. While hitting the White Widow during a Seattle storm track ominously called “the Big Dark”, I consistently hit bombs into the wind/rain with my 12-degree mini-driver, placing the ball wherever I wanted it. It was like tunnel vision once I got over the golf ball.

The shittier the weather got during the Big Dark the better I swung the golf club and as a result I painted a few memorable masterpieces while under that umbrella and the Widow’s spell. It may have looked like I ‘wasn’t there’ had you looked in my eyes during those rounds, but it really would have been you who didn’t exist — I was an artist at work, undeterred by weather, dancing along to the La La Land soundtrack and dropping birdies.