River turf
Firm rye hides an upright sole until the ball starts right.
Tri-Cities lies are rarely lush. A toe stain that looked polite on a mat will leak toward Pasco the first time the rye bakes.
We do not own a park. We own a strip of rye and a memory of how Kennewick actually sits: winter rye that stays slow, summer bermuda that gets glassy after a sprinkler cycle, Columbia Park lies that lean toward the water.
If your cycle card says you live on firm afternoon turf, the flatten call gets stricter. A high toe on a five is a right miss waiting for the next Ice Harbor gust. We would rather flatten a degree in June than hear about it in August.