So, me and my buddy took a swing at the Pittsburgh National Golf Club this fine afternoon. Let's dish the dirt starting with the good stuff. The greens? Pristine. Fairways? Like walking on a well-groomed mustache. Bunkers, shrubs, and trees are placed with the kind of thought that would make a chess grandmaster nod in approval. The clubhouse is as snazzy as a new penny, and the pro shop's got more gear than a Pierogi Festival.

Had a bit of a run-in with a greenskeeper too. A misunderstanding on our part led to a lecture that felt more like getting scolded by an old-school headmaster than a heads-up from course staff. We crossed where we shouldn't have—our bad. But this fella, he came at us full tilt, threatening to shut down our carts and send us packing. All we could do was apologize and make a mental note to steer clear. But hey, here's to never crossing paths again—unless he switches greens, that is.