Hamilton Herald Masthead

Editorial


Front Page - Friday, August 19, 2011

Are we there yet?


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“Just when I thought I was out... they pull me back in.” – Michael Corleone. The unbearable heat broke at last when a welcome Canadian whisper from Mother Nature was felt throughout the south. With the change, the game of golf could be played as was intended, in stinging rain and 40-mile per hour winds, blowing unimpeded from the North Sea.

Well, maybe not quite that dramatic, more like 90 degrees and a slight breeze from Greers Ferry Lake. But after 114, it felt like Scotland to me. I was invited by the brothers-in-law to a Saturday of golf at the Red Apple Inn. I had given up the game (again) and thought I’d stay home Saturday and re-arrange my sock drawer and maybe cook some red beans and rice (a great cold-weather dish). Then the call came in from brother-in-law Bob, self-named “MF,” which as everyone in the large family knows means, “Mother’s Favorite.”

Bob and wifey Lisa were on their way to their condo and when Bob called me they were passing through the middle of earthquake alley known as Guy, Ark. As they dodged the tremors, Bob called, to talk about the golf game we had planned earlier in the week. “It might rain,” I told him. “But when you get to Red Apple, if everyone still wants to play, give me a call and I’ll head that way.” He agreed and I went to take a shower.

After the cleansing, I checked my phone and saw there was a message from Bob, which said, “Get up here, it’s 80 degrees and sunny. And Dennis says to bring lots of money.” Dennis is Bob’s brother, aka - NMF, or “Surly,” as we like to refer to him on the course, because he is 50 percent of the team known as “Laverne and Surly.” Laverne is Bill Hooper, who’s married to Bob and Dennis’ sister Patty. 

Whenever I mention Patty and Bill I have to tell the story about the time Patty was going to take their poodle, Boston, to the vet for a bath and haircut. Boston was well along in years and his health hadn’t been so good, but Bill didn’t have the heart to have him put to sleep. One day Patty suggested that Boston might feel better if they got him cleaned up a bit, so she told Bill she was taking him in for a trim and bath. At the vet Patty told them what she wanted and they informed her it would cost $75.

After looking down at poor Boston she asked the girl behind the counter what the price would be to have him put to sleep. “$40,” came the reply. Boston never got his bath that day and Patty came home alone. And ever since, if Patty offers to take Bill for a haircut, he nervously declines. I bid farewell to the fair wife (Patty’s sister, gulp!) and loaded my gear into “Black Beauty,” my ’97 Caddy. It is 71 miles from my house to their three condos that sit on the par three fifth-hole. I reached Guy, which was thankfully unmoving, and kept going.

Then I stopped for a Coke at the Conoco station on Highway 25, about two miles from the turn onto Highway 107. I ordered a ham and Swiss on white bread with mayo – sustenance for the grueling golf match that lay ahead. It’s a very good sandwich if you’re ever in the area. I hit about 10 balls on the driving range and was striping my driver, which, if you’re not into the ancient game, is a good thing. We made our usual 2-dollar Nassau and five-dollar rabbit bet on the first tee. “Play ‘em down, rock and root.”

We cheated a bit more by taking a mulligan on the first (a second tee shot if you aren’t happy with the first). I hit last, and after watching all their good shots I worm-burned mine just past the ladies tee, the striping obviously not making the short trip with me from the range. But then, somehow, I had a four-footer for a par and a win on the first green. I sank the putt and MF and I took the early lead over Laverne and Surly.

On No. 9 tee we were two up and I was even par. But I found myself lying three on the par four, behind and above the green, under a tree and on nothing but rocks and roots.

So with no place better to drop I hit a great shot to about six-feet and made the putt for a 37 on the front. After more good play on the back I ended up four-over for the round, beating Surly by a stroke. I love golf.