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You should know this: Robert and I suck at golf. You don't have to remind us, though. We're fully aware of the situation. This is why we golf together. Our skill levels (zero and zero) are complimentary. During a round of golf we can exchange such pleasantries as "Wow, Robert, that was almost as good as a normal person's shot," or "Gee, Bruce, if you had hit the ball that time, it would have gone a long way."
So we were chagrined when - on the first hole of the course where we were playing in the Big Bear mountain area - a third person joined our friendly twosome. He was tall, muscular, and had just come off a successful run on the PGA senior tour, or so it seemed. Robert and I were grateful to see that he was walking the course while we were riding. This would give him something to do while Robert and I were making the extra shots necessary to catch up with him. We were also disturbed by the fact that the course was well-monitored. There were course rangers and employees everywhere, although the most important type of course employee was absent - the beer cart lady. It must have been an oversight. There was no other explanation. I'll not describe the details of our round for you - the triple bogeys, the topped balls, the tee shots that went no more than fifty yards - because I'm a kind person, and I want to spare you the pain. And, admittedly, I'm not sure I want to relive it. We weren't there to play winning golf. We were out there for exercise, camaraderie, and to see the wildlife. Robert had told me about the animals he had seen on the course last time he was there, like the fox that sat, curled and watching, as Robert teed off from the elevated tee on the fifth hole. But this time, things were different and something odd happened. On the second hole, a couple birds flew overhead and made what sounded like cackling noises, as if they had been closely observing my iron play. On the third hole, they had begun circling and still sounded as if they were laughing. A hawk had joined them, and there were also a couple ground squirrels on the sidelines. By the fifth hole, where Robert reported he had seen the fox, we had our own gallery of wildlife creatures. As I hit my fourth shot off the fairway, I swear I saw two of the ground squirrels pointing, holding their bellies, and laughing. On the seventh hole, a short par three over water, I was greatly relieved to successfully get my first shot across the pond. And even though my ball landed in the sand trap, had I hit the ball into the water, I don't think I could have borne the ridicule I would have had to face from all the animals that had gathered around. At this point there were two deer, some rabbits, several squirrels, a full flock of birds, one hawk, three lizards, a snake, and a family of quail. They were obviously having a great time. Now I know how Tiger Woods feels, although maybe it's a little different. I made it out of the sand trap, and I believe I heard a smattering of applause from the squirrels, but I could have been mistaken, just as I might be wrong when thinking that the deer let out a moan when I missed my putt for par. But who knows? Maybe the altitude was getting to me. We finished our round and shook hands with the man who had joined us. We had learned along the way that he was the CEO of a local hospital. He said that, although he appreciated the fact that we had let him join us, he would never hire anyone as uncoordinated and clearly incompetent as we were. Some of the woodland creatures cheered his name as he walked off the green. They had been joined by a large goose who added a chorus of honks. "So what do you want to do now?" I asked Robert. "Let's go hunting," he said, an evil grin on his face. Oh, I knew he was joking. At least, I think he was. You never know with Robert. Instead we went and had a beer, because that's what real sportsmen do. |
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