Yes, the rest of his story is accurate [as far as I know ... he told me he was on the Old Course, but I couldn't verify that]. But, he was calling to set up a meeting with me the next day down at Archerfield, and that wouldn't have made as good of a lead as the phone ringing in his bag, so let's forgive him for that one. It's not like he took a bad drop or anything.
Very funny, Tom.
But before I let this go:
You can forgive him -- but I can't. Or, at least, won't.
There is no excuse, the way I see things, for a journalist to make stuff up. None. Achieving a "better" lede, by way of fiction, is not even close to acceptable.
Having said that:
Mr. Bamberger wants us to believe he was lost on the Old Course, and that you telephonically redirected him -- an anecdote designed to show your intense and intimate knowledge of the Old Course (and of, by implication, the history of the game, and all of its great courses, etc., etc., etc.).
How is what he did write any "better" than what he could have (presumably) honestly written: "I was lost on the Old Course, etc. Iowa Wal-mart, strange toothy animals, etc. So I grabbed the cell phone out of my golf bag and called Tom Doak, former caddie, etc., etc."?
The answer is: It's not any better.
Of course, I still have numerous doubts:
Has Michael Bamberger never played the Old Course? If he has (and he certainly must have): How in the heck did he get lost out there?
Did you really tell him that 7 and 11 share a double green? (Hard to imagine your thinking he didn't know that already. He's Michael Bamberger, for heaven's sake. You might just as well have told him that St. Andrews is in Scotland.)
Hadn't he figured out in the first six holes that you play the white flags on the way out?
Are there really times in the summer when, under "plenty of light," a single can play the Old Course -- and, doing so, find "not another soul" out there?
My B.S. detector is still glowing Orange.