Steve Wilson,
Why do you find this weird?
By virtue of losing his ball (probably through no fault of his own), A has a need. B, by finding four balls (life's lottery/lucky sperm theory), has the ability. Why shouldn't A have a just demand on the property of B? A clearly demonstrated that he has progressed to "New Man", while B and the other guy remain at a very primitive stage of selfish individualism. Isn't a sizable proportion of our intelligentsia enamored with precisely this philosophy?
BTW, if I had been B, I would have kept any good ProVxs for myself and gladly offered him the rest.
I find I have no explanation for my bewilderment. I had hoped I found it weird because I wasn't. Obviously, self aggrandizement on my part. And this was long before there was such a thing as a ProVxs.
But speaking of self aggrandizement I remember another episode that occurred to me when playing as a single at less than nondescript muni at Sardis Ohio. I had rushed to the course on a Friday evening hoping to get in a quick eighteen. Just as I was racing the cart to the first tee, the girl in the shop hailed me down. There was another single who had just paid his green fee. Strangers we were to one another, and he introduced himself as having been a really good player at one time who had not been able to play much in recent years. He hoped he wouldn't prove a burden.
On the first hole he went through a good portion of bad shot list, but it was apparent he could play some. The rudiments of a swing were there. Two or three holes in he started to hit some good shots. When he drained a long putt for birdie, he began to share some of his accomplishments with me. A bad tee shot or a flared approach would see him descend into silence. This pattern repeated itself through the round. With each good shot he trotted out stories of his prowess. I think he made another birdie and then he started a story about the money matches he had played in with a club pro he had gone to school with. "He was always calling me, telling me to get off work he had a match for us. One time we played this two guys and I didn't even know what the stakes were. Turned out we were playing for fifteen hundred dollars and the one guy didn't have that much on him. That's how I got those Ping Irons." This was when Pings were a hot item.
Fortunately, he had a bad hole or two and lapsed back into silence. Another good hole brought us to the 8th. It plays about 330 but requires a well position layup in front of a ravine. He looks at the card and asks how far is to the hazard. Truthfully I tell him I don't know but always lay up with a long iron. He muses over the prospect of carrying the hazard. I do nothing to discourage him. "I think I'm going to go for it."
His tee ball goes into the hazard, but not on the fly. I don't think it even bounced, I think it was a last gasp trickle.
The hazard is really the mouth of a small stream where it enters the Ohio River and the sides are precipitous loose earth. I am told that another golfer hawking balls slipped and slid to bottom once. Mr Scratchman looks over the edge of the hazard and spots a ball he assumes to be his. "Hey, you got one of those retriever things, I never bothered to get one." To quote Snoopy, "My reels with sarcastic replies." I contented myself with "Yeah, I've got one. I never use it myself, I just carry it for the people I play with."
There wasn't much conversation for several holes.
But, by the time we finished in near darkness he was once regaling me with tall and unlikely tales. Spirits, apparently, aren't the only things that are irrepressible.