The forecast was for scattered thunderstorms across the area and the clouds were already building from the south when we teed off at 8:30 in the morning.

By the time we’d played four holes, the sunshine had disappeared, the wind had picked up a bit and, while watching Jacob’s wedge shot fly to the fifth green, I thought the clouds looked angrily dark as though I were looking at them through deeply tinted sunglasses.

“Yep, it’s coming,” Alex said, apparently reading my mind. “But we can use the moisture.”

Even more than many others in southern California, golfers are acutely aware of the area’s drought and the steps being taken to ameliorate the now four-year water shortage.

“Yeah, but why can’t it rain on Monday, or Friday?” Jose asked on the sixth tee. “Why’s it have to be the day I can play golf?”

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By the time we reached the sixth fairway, the wind was a full club, maybe two clubs, in our faces and we heard the first faint, though distinct, rumbles of far-off thunder. Jose pulled an umbrella out of the side of his bag and put it unopened in the cart.

[quote_box_center]“I carry this for insurance,” he said. “It only ever rains when I don’t have it with me.”[/quote_box_center]

Standing on the seventh tee waiting for the fairway to clear, we saw the first unmistakable lightening flash across the sky, quite a distance away.

“We’ll get nine in before it gets here,” Alex said.

Two heartbeats later there was another flash, closer, much-too-much closer, and then two seconds after that a thunderous boom shattered the morning quiet and rain began to fall softly.

“That’s it,” Alex said. “Back to the clubhouse.”

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Instantly, it seemed, the front nine cleared as golfers melted off the course crossing fairways and rough in carts heading toward the safety of the clubhouse.

I saw two walkers climb on the back of another twosome’s cart. They balanced unsteadily, one holding his bag by the handle strap, the other dragging his bouncing pull cart behind the speeding electric cart.

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Not everyone stopped playing.

As we drove by the eighth green, a fivesome was putting out there while a group was teeing off on No. 9.

“You saw the lightning, right?” Jose yelled to the group on nine.

“I have graphite shafts,” one of them answered while I heard someone else say something about holding his one-iron as they walked down the fairway.

“You don’t even have a one-iron,” his buddy said.

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The area around the clubhouse was crowded with golf carts parked at every angle, bags were being manhandled out of the straps and hustled under protection. Most guys were hurrying, but a few were moving slowly, the water pouring off the front of their caps.

[quote_box_center]“It’s only rain,” I heard one wet 40-year-old say.[/quote_box_center]

Another blast of lightning, looking like it touched down somewhere on the back nine, sent everyone scurrying quickly under the awning outside the halfway house, or into the protection of the pro shop as the thunder went off almost instantly after the lightning flashed.

Now the last guys were driving in, or in some cases running, maneuvering their three-wheeled push-carts through the parked cart confusion while they held on to their golf hats with one hand.

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At most golf courses in southern California there is no lightning detection or early warning system. Most don’t have sirens or any other way of telling reluctant golfers that they need to come in out of the rain.

[quote_box_center]“We don’t need it,” Jim behind the pro shop counter explained the lack of weather warnings to me. “Well, maybe a few times a year we could use it, but we’re not required to have it and, besides, most golfers are smart enough to come in when there’s lightning obviously in the vicinity.”[/quote_box_center]

“There are still guys out there right now playing, I’ll bet,” someone I didn’t know said to us.

“I said ‘most golfers,’” Jim answered, “not all golfers.”

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After about 40 minutes of rain, wind, occasional lightning and recurrent thunder, the sky started to lighten a bit.

A few guys walked the 30 yards to the practice green to see how the water affected the speed of their putts. Or maybe they were just tired of listening to everyone else’s bad jokes and old stories.

By then quite a number of would-be golfers had given up and gone home knowing that with the rain and lightning at least they wouldn’t have yard work waiting for them.

Another guy I didn’t know walked by on his way to the practice chipping green carrying a half-bucket of yellow range balls. He strode behind the deep practice sand trap and flipped the basket forward with both hands like he was emptying a bucket filled with water. The dozen balls flew into the bottom of the bunker.

He dropped the bucket and climbed into the trap holding his sand wedge.

In the still-steady rain, he took two or three practice swings, the club staying nicely above the sand as he worked into a perfectly balanced follow-through.

Then he took a swipe at a ball and it flew out of the bunker, over the practice flag, and over the practice green before finally landing near a tree some 40 yards away.

He took another swing and a ball rose to the top of the bunker, hit the lip and rolled back down to his feet. He took another swing; this ball ran up the sand, hit the lip, popped in the air and fell back in.

He took two more swings and I saw sand fly, but no balls move. He took another swing, a ball squirted sideways out of the bunker and hit the driving range netting off to the right.

Once more he stood over a black-striped yellow range ball in the bunker. He went back and through, the ball flew out, barely cresting the lip. It bounced once, twice, and rolled onto the green at the flag. It stopped about six inches short of the pin.

The practicer reached down and in a quick motion threw about six balls out of the sand and into the grass at the side of the trap. Then he climbed out of the bunker, his work there accomplished.

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The thunder had died away, the wind had calmed down and the rain had diminished to drizzle when Jose came over to the table where I was sitting with Alex and three others.

[quote_box_center]“It’s pretty much stopping out there, I think we should head back out,” he said. “Unless you don’t want to play anymore?”[/quote_box_center]

“If I went home now,” Alex said, “my wife might expect me home when the weather isn’t good. That wouldn’t work.”

Five minutes later three of us were back in our carts heading out to the seventh tee.

“Lift, clean and place from here, boys,” Jose yelled from his cart. “This course is ours today!”

Do you have a rain delay experience? Let us know in the comments section below. And check out the inspirational story of one golfer trying to shoot the round of his life at 7-ironpress.com. The book is called A Perfect Lie – The Hole Truth and you can get free shipping on the paperback with the code GOLFWRX, or $4 off the e-book when you enter the code GOLFWRX1 at check-out.