Victory means exit strategy, and it's important for the President to explain to us what the exit strategy is.    The Honorable Governor of Texas, George W. Bush

I hate quotations. Tell me what you know.    Ralph Waldo Emerson

Friday, August 19, 2005

He Rook Firsty

Left this note stuck to the tee box on the Blue course 9th hole today:

The Japanese guys let me play through, maybe you should go over there and learn
some manners.
Stopped to play some twilight. My heel was a little sore (from too many golf swings) so I had a cart. One guy in a cart cuts along pretty well, so I would catch up to people from time to time. This is a big public layout and I can jump around between courses and holes, the guys there don't mind as long as you don't muck up the works or get in someone's way.

I started catching up to a threesome, and while I was on a green they were on the next tee box, from which I heard, "You want to pass?"

"Sure, be there in a minute!"

So I hustled over there, where they were buying beers from the beer girl person.

"How ya hittin' 'em," I offered. The universal language of this, the true world game.

"Rike hell," said the guy with his wallet open and the obvious leader of the pack.

Everyone laughed.

He said to the beer girl person, "He rook firsty, buy him Heinie."

"Naw, You don't have ta."

"You don't want?" and I knew he was expecting me to accept.

"Well, alrighty, then," and I took the beer.

Now, usually when a bunch of strangers are watching me hit a shot I get a little nervous, and golf, being what it is, can be very, very unforgiving of any such trepidation. All kinds of crazy things can happen, but this time I set the Heinie down on the yardage marker, grabbed the driver, took an easy practice swing, and then nailed it, 280 yards, high and right down the middle, settling on a narrow in the fairway between a large pond on the right and a small one on the left.

From the gallery I heard, "Ssssmokin!"

Everyone laughed, as it was undoubtedly the worst Jim Carrey anyone had ever heard.

I bagged the driver, picked up the Heinie, gave a little bow as I thanked them, and set off down the fairway.

From the next hole I could still hear them laughing.

Later I began catching up to a fivesome, Seeing a fivesome ahead of you is a lot like coming over a rise on the expressway and seeing a couple hundred brakes lights lit up ahead. It ain't even legal. It ain't even a word! I caught them on a shortish par four, and after a long wait I hit it on the green while they teed off very close by. While I putted there were nervous glances exchanged, but I was not the least surprised when they drove off while I walked off the green not more then twenty yards behind them.

The traffic was thinning, so I skipped the hole. I can do this there, but they had no idea that the ranger knows me and will let me bounce around. I would have waited 20 minutes for them to play this hole, a difficult par three that the five of them were playing as wide as it was long.

Then I left the note. While on the green of the next hole I heard a shout from behind me, "Eat shit and die!"

I'm sure there must be some rude Japanese, and there are plenty of considerate Americans. But today the score was: Fun, generous, social Japanese guys....3; crabby, selfish, ignorant Americans...5.

Well, maybe 5½.

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