1. I was playing at Canaan Valley State Park back in the 80s with three other guys. One was a terrific athlete (call him A), but not much of a golfer. Another was a pretty good player but slow. And the better he played the more deliberate he became. Slow to the point that someone once described it as like having a painting in your group (so we will call him P).
We reached the 18th (a long par four played into the prevailing wind with a large impoundment guarding the front of the green), and he had a chance to shoot his best round ever if he could par it. P was up and so was the wind. So, in addition to his usual deliberation, P now was trying to outwait the considerable and freshening breeze.
After what seemed like five minutes to the rest of us but was probably like 30 seconds, the wind began to die. At that time P launched his swing. And as he swung the wind gusted. What followed was the highest shortest pop up I ever saw. A, the terrific athlete, took off running and shouting, ?Mine, mine, I got it, I got it.?
And he could have too, but wisely let it drop through his hands. Everyone was on the ground except P, and I don?t know that he ever did see the humor in it. Oh, and he didn?t make par on the last hole.
2. More years ago than I care to recall, I was playing with my father and uncles at what was known as Par Mar Pines just north of Parkersburg. W. Va. Dad had a monumental slice and spent a great deal of time on the right side of the golf course, but he also hit some superb recovery shots out of what seemed like solitary confinement rather than just jail.
On this occasion he had cleared the trees and was playing out an adjacent fairway. His intention was to hit something low through the trees back into the proper fairway. His shot negotiated every tree but the last one and ricocheted directly back at him. Simultaneously swearing and stepping into the pitch, he swung at the high inside fastball. I?d like to say he smacked two hundred yards greensward, but, alas, he didn?t even manage to foul it off. I think this was the longest retrograde shot I ever saw as the ball finished at least fifty yards behind him.
3. Playing at Canaan Valley in 1988, on the 9th hole I found myself in the trees to the left. I had a gap if I could keep the ball low and straight for about forty yards. I almost made it, but the last tree once again interfered and the ball kicked off of it heading left, hit another tree and triangulated back and ended its career with a yard of the point where I struck it.
The following spring at Pinehurst #2, I was in agroup with a club pro and two friends of his who were pretty good sticks. Their level of play was so superior I was intimidated and tense. On the fourth hole trying to play it safe with an iron off the tee, I hit a hideous push fade slice into the trees to the right. Sizing up the shot, I saw that I had a gap about forty yards ahead if I could keep the shot low, etc. Well, yes, just as I had done the previous fall I hit an even more perfect triangulation shot that came back to with six inches of my previous lie. The club pro was awestruck, ?I?ve been playing golf for thirty years and I never saw anything like that.? I told him that not only had I seen it before, I had now done it twice within six months. Evens though I made an 8 on the hole, the incident loosened me up and enabled me to relax so I could play better.
4. On a three hole course (with sand greens) where I learned to play the first hole played over the railroad tracks. The second hole paralleled the second but crossed the third, and the third crossed both the 1st and 2nd. I was playing the 3rd, when a car zipped into the parking lot. A guy jumped up, took his clubs out of the trunk, teed up and smashed a shot that struck the tracks and ricocheted back at him. He ducked well after the ball had passed him, put his driver back in the bag, walked to the car, threw his bag in the trunk and drove off without even looking for the ball. I guess it?s like deer season, when the target starts shooting back it?s time to leave.
5. I?ve also played golf with a man who is a walking laughable shot factory. I?ve seen him hit the ball every conceivable direction except off the back of club. More than once I?ve seen him drive a ball underground with fairway shots. Once during a ?crucial? golf league match that was already out of hand, he topped his tee shot and didn?t quite make it past the ladies tees. Using a fairway wood, he somehow hit the top of the ball so that it popped up chest high. Reflexively, he reached out and grabbed the ball. Goggle eyed, he stared at it for a second and then dropped it like it was hot. ?Do you think they saw me grab it, if they did that?s two strokes.? I looked over at our opponents toppling first to their knees and then to the grass. ?Yeah, Harley, I think they saw it.?
6. Player A on the tee and Player B says ?I wonder what those tee markers are made of.? Player A then hit?s a low pull that causes the left tee to break into a dozen pieces. Turns out it was made of something similar to terracotta. Player A acted as though Player B?s word had caused the result. To disprove it, Player B spent the next few holes saying ?Wonder what would happen if A made a hole in one on this shot.? Player A didn?t find it as funny as the rest of us did.
The 3rd hole at Clarksburg Country Club has a steeply uphill tee shot. Crossing the fairway some fifty to seventy-five yards away are some electric lines. Any tee shot hitting them must be replayed. Come to think of it, any shot hitting them must be replayed, but I?ve never seen them hit with any shot other than a tee shot. In well over a hundred rounds at Clarksburg I?ve seen them hit no more than five times. Then a couple of years ago, I?m playing in a group with a good player, close to scratch, who has never had a good bounce in all of his golfing life. Even though he?s a much better player than I am, I?ve always had his number, and probably have beaten him two thirds of the time. Moreover, Butch is a large guy with an over inflated sense of dignity and a tendency to harbor a grievance. Indeed, it?s this tendency to linger over misfortune that has enabled me to beat him. I never mention his bad bounces, but I?m always willing to talk about when he brings them up. Okay, the stage is set.
His first tee shot is smoked, but it dead centers one of the electric lines and drops straight down. When he goes to reload, he moves his spot back and right by about a yard. One of the guys in the group whispers to me, ?I don?t think he?s that consistent.? At this point I?m set up to crack up.
Second tee shot is also smoked but this one just barely ticks the top of one of the lines. He gets about two hundred yards out of it, but not only does he have to replay he wants to replay. The wise guy who has already whispered to me now says out loud, ?Looks like you need to back up another inch, Butch.? This is not well received.
Did I mention that Butch hit?s a power fade and so aims down the left. I didn?t think so. I also didn?t mention that there is a large tree guarding the left side of the fairway . And on that tree is a prominent limb protruding over the fairway.
The third tee shot is also smoked but it is pulled, hit?s the prominent limb and caroms high in the air coming back toward the electric lines. On the tee Butch is chanting ?Hit the f***in? wire, hit the f***in? wire, hit the f***in? wire you sonuvabitch, hit the f***in wire.? Needless to say, the sunuvabitch didn?t hit the f***in? wire, and Butch is left with the shortest tee shot any of us ever saw him hit. By this time I?m hiding behind the golf cart and hanging onto it to keep from going to the ground. From there I managed to slink into the woods and hide behind a tree until I regained most of my composure. And yes, I commiserated with Butch for the remainder of the round on my way to an resounding victory.