They call it ‘punching the greens’
Yeah, that time of year rolled around again. You know the one. Greens start looking a bit sad, water sits on top instead of soaking in. Boss man says, “Time to give ’em some air.” So, punching it is. Wasn’t my first rodeo with this, but it’s never a walk in the park.
Getting Started – The Beast Awakens
First thing, I had to drag out the aerator. Ours isn’t exactly new, you know? More like a grumpy old bear you gotta coax into working each season. I spent a good bit of time just checking the tines, making sure none were busted or dull as a spoon. Had to replace a couple, actually. Then filled it up with gas and oil. The usual song and dance before the real work starts. You gotta talk nice to these old machines, or they’ll let you down halfway through the first green.
The Actual Grind
Then it was onto the first green. Fired up the machine. Man, that thing is loud. And it shakes your bones. You just gotta hang on tight and try to steer it in straight lines. Back and forth, back and forth. It’s not exactly rocket science, but you really gotta pay attention. If you go too fast, or overlap too much, you can mess things up proper. Slow and steady, that’s the game. But slow and steady over eighteen greens feels like forever.
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Those little plugs of dirt, the cores, they fly out everywhere. By the end of the first green, my boots were caked. Pants too.
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And the smell. It’s this mix of fresh damp earth, which is okay, but then you got the exhaust fumes from the machine. Not the best perfume, let me tell ya.
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Watching the green go from a nice smooth surface to looking like a giant pegboard. It always looks brutal right after you’re done. Makes you second guess if you’re helping or hurting sometimes, even though you know it’s for the best.
I did that for all eighteen. Took the better part of two days, really, with breaks and refueling and wrestling the machine around the tricky spots. Your hands are buzzing by the end of it. Your back’s definitely letting you know it’s been working. It’s just one of those jobs, you know? You grit your teeth and get it done because it has to be done.
The Aftermath and the Wait
After all the holes were punched, then came the cleanup. We had to get all those cores off the greens. Sometimes we sweep ’em, sometimes we blow ’em. This year, we were topdressing right after, so I helped with spreading the sand too. That’s another job in itself. Makes the greens look even weirder for a bit, all sandy and pockmarked. Like the moon’s surface.
Then you just wait. Give it a week, maybe two. Lots of watering, a bit of gentle mowing once it starts to recover. It’s always a bit nerve-wracking, that waiting period. You’ve put in all that effort, made a mess, and now you just gotta trust that the grass will heal up strong. You see a few dry patches and your heart sinks a bit, hoping it’s not something you did wrong.
Seeing the Point of It All
But then, slowly, you start to see it happen. The grass starts to fill in those holes. The roots get some air, finally. It drains a whole lot better after a good rain, no more puddles sitting there. And a few weeks down the line, when the greens are fully healed, they’re just healthier. They roll truer. That’s when you really see why you went through all that noise and dirt and vibration. The greens are happy again. And when the greens are happy, well, the golfers tend to complain a bit less. And that, my friends, is always a good thing.
