The Wacky Side of Golf |
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19TH HOLE COMEDY • Today, the blog • Tomorrow, the book |
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Charity Begins at Home -- So Stay There This entry was posted on 3/2/2006 12:04 PM and is filed under uncategorized. If you’re looking for a treat, play in a charity golf outing. Or have a root canal. The pain is similar. Do yourself a favor, write a check, make a donation and stay home. You will feel good about giving to a good cause. Not to mention a chance to give your worst enemy the privilege of playing in your place. My wife and I played in a charity outing recently. It was a bonanza for the charity -- I’ve never seen so many corporate sponsors. The urinals had logos. My insurance agent sponsored a ball washer. The divots had endorsements. More than 200 golfers turned out -- the mob overflowed the 36 hole venue. The long line of golf carts at the practice green looked like a convoy ready to invade Baghdad. We played with a fellow who happily admitted (as we shook hands) that he hadn’t played golf for eleven years. ”Isn’t that special?” I thought. “And he’s all ours for five or six hours. Shoot me. Kick me. Stomp me.” His wife was more of a treat (all of this is true). She clutched the end of the club with her left hand, slid her right hand down to the steel shaft, and addressed the ball sideways -- facing the fairway. It was like watching Wayne Gretsky cross the blue line for an open shot at the net. A tee shot that went 50 yards made me want to yell, “Icing!” The Golf Channel couldn’t solve her problems with a panel of the entire Harmon family. The shotgun start began at 7:15 in the morning. I estimated we’d need a lantern to finish. The event was a scramble. Each player hits a tee shot, you select the best one and everyone plays a second shot from that point and so on until a putt is holed. The winning team usually makes birdies galore and winds up with a score of 59 or less. We were still on the front nine when we passed 59. Our chance of winning a skill prize was as good as Ted Williams’ chance of hitting .400 when they thaw him out. I would have paid to be somewhere else. Anywhere. A foreign country. A different planet. My mind wandered, I searched for the slightest sign of on-course amusement. Fortunately, there were more diversions than Disney World. A photographer at the 2nd tee, asked us to line up for a foursome photograph -- a fond memory to hang in the powder room for inspiration. I said, “No thanks, we pass.” The camera man insisted. I caved in. He posed me next to the hockey player, and said, “Smile.” I beamed. He asked for our e-mail address. I wrote anonymous@aol.com. At the 6th hole, we took three shots to reach the long drive sign -- for ladies. The sign was in the fairway, we were in the rough. I chortled, “Gee, the woman who hit that one must have a new titanium driver.” The hockey player said, “Maybe I should think about getting one.” My wife slapped her hand over my mouth and glared, “Don’t you dare go there!” Along the way we came to a table where two ladies offered to sell us raffle tickets -- ten dollars for one, three for twenty dollars. I’m not the luckiest person in the world, I bet on Germany in both wars. Besides, I wasn’t eager to peel off a twenty. I didn’t have the faintest idea what the prizes were. I came up with an ace-in-the-hole excuse: “We thought we’d wait until we finish and buy tickets then.” They didn’t go for it. “We’re going to close the raffle in 30 minutes,“ one of the ladies explained, “so you have to buy your tickets now.” I know when I’ve been had, I forked over a crisp, new twenty. By the way, have you noticed the picture on the new twenty dollar bill? It’s supposed to be Andrew Jackson, but it looks more like Peter Gammons of ESPN’s Baseball Tonight show. The par-3, 12th hole offered the big skill-shot prize of the day -- a new car for a hole-in-one. I’m not sure if it was a Cadillac or a Volkswagen. It was on display next to the green and I could have paid attention because the hockey player’s third shot rolled under it. Somebody won the car, but we weren’t around for the traditional hole-in-one free drink. More about our quick getaway in a moment. First, let’s finish the round. At the 17th, a long par-5, a muscle-bound ape with forearms like bowling pins met us at the tee. He introduced himself as a long-drive champion of some sort. Figuring he was after another donation, I pulled my pockets inside out and gave him the palms-up sign so he could see I was tapped out. But he went through his spiel anyway: “For a twenty dollar charitable contribution,” he began, “I will hit a drive and you can play the ball. I guarantee it will wind up within 125 yards of this 528 yard hole. You’ll a great chance to make an eagle.” I paused to consider the offer......okay, thanks, but no thanks. We can finish dead last by ourselves, without a fifth partner. Why louse up a sure thing? Popeye wouldn’t give up, “No one goes away a loser. Even if my drive doesn’t help you win a skill prize, I will give you twenty dollars in Hooters coupons.” Skill prize was the last phrase our group expected to be associated with. The Hooters certificates were enticing, but twenty bucks buys, at the most, four beers -- not the entire keg it would take to erase the day. At the end, we walked off the 18th green and found ourselves in the middle of a cookout. A chef was busy tending a huge barbecue, a spatula in each hand, deftly flipping and maneuvering hot, juicy hamburgers across the grill. It was like watching a musician play the vibes. His assistant put a dried piece of meat on our plates. It was cooked until it looked like a hockey puck. Our playing partner eyed it, excitedly. I asked to exchange my meat for a juicer burger from the front of the grill, but was told “those aren’t done.” We were urged us to move along toward the coleslaw. It’s amazing what a couple hours of blazing Arizona sun does to coleslaw. The mayonnaise tends to bubble like lava in a volcano. It was ready to erupt. Have you ever seen coleslaw gurgle? We decided to pass on the food, check the raffle winners on the big board, and scram. One of our tickets, number 807947, was a winner. The board said, “807947 - DVD.” My wife was elated. She said it would be nice to have a second DVD player. She soured somewhat when a volunteer set her straight -- the board didn’t say “player” it said, “DVD”. We left with a children’s video. I think it was “Barney Does Dallas.” * * * |
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