Sticks - A Golfer's Tale, W. Sautter [rooftoppers .txt] 📗

Sticks – A Golfer’s Tale

By W. Sautter

Copyright W. Sautter 2006

ISBN 1-4276-0663-3

Prologue

I hope that you will enjoy meeting Bob Andrews and sharing his adventure. I believe that anyone who has played the game will see a bit of Bob in himself.
I wrote “Sticks” hoping that the reader could recognize some of his own foolish fantasies, that is, the two hundred and fifty dollar driver that you just knew would take ten strokes off your game or the miracle swing trainer that you saw on TV which would be your ticket to the perfect round.
If nothing else, I hope that “Sticks” puts an occasional grin on your face and causes a now and then nod of self-recognition as you read.
Enjoy and thanks for reading “Sticks”!

Walt Sautter
wsautter@optonline.net

Frequently Used Golfing Terms
(For the uninitiated)
Par – the expected score on a hole
Birdie – one stroke lower than par
Eagle – two strokes lower than par
Bogey- one stroke over par
Double bogey – two strokes over par
Slice- a shot curving sharply away from the golfer
Hook - a shot curving sharply towards the golfer
Duffer – an average to below average player
Trap – a sand pit designed to make a shot difficult
Pinnacle – a brand of golf ball
Mulligan – an extra uncounted shot (cheating)
Chip – a short shot to the green
Wedge- a club used for chipping
Driver – a club used for long tee shots
Tee shot – the first shot of a hole
Irons – clubs used for shorter, intermediate shots
Woods – clubs used for longer shots
Rough – areas of longer grass adjacent to the fairway
Fairway – areas of shorter grass leading to the green
Round – a complete eighteen holes of play
Lie –
(1) the position of the ball before striking
(2) the score a golfer reports to his friends
Off The Books (OTB) – when a golfer refuses to
continue scoring during a round to avoid further humiliation
Clubhouse Trot – when poor performance causes
a golfer to terminate play early and walk back to the clubhouse alone
The Fling – the throwing of a club after a missed shot
“Oh Shit!”* – indicates the first poor shot of a series
“Holy shit!!”* – indicates the second poor shot of a series
“This game sucks!”* – indicates the third poor shot of a series
“I quit! I’m taking up fishing”* – indicates extremely poor play indeed
Notes on Informational Sources
*These terms are excerpts from the ranting
of fellow duffers Chris Parish and Jack Parish.
I hear them so frequently that I assume they are part of accepted golf terminology!

STICKS

“Traffic and weather every fifteen minutes on KAQO, but where’s the traffic today? There is none! Today’s Saturday and it’s six A.M. on the Larry Fine Show and I’m sorry that you have to be up to hear this – Well, not that sorry, otherwise I’d be outta work and –.”
Bob opened one eye and peered hazily towards the clock radio. Larry Fine was right. It was six A.M.!
He slowly reached over towards the clock, ignoring the pops and crackles in his back as he moved. He moved the final two inches and the room fell silent.
“In an hour and a half this torture will have been worth it when he was standing on the first tee at Rocking Ridge,” he told himself as he struggled towards full wakefulness.
Methodically, he stretched the other, still partially dormant appendages, each one creating its own familiar little rhythm of snaps and creaks. He slid one foot to the floor, then the other and with what felt like super-human effort, he pulled himself to a seated position on the edge of the bed. He stared aimlessly for a moment and then exited the fading fog into consciousness.
“Today will be a great day he thought. I am going to really kick some ass.”
“Today’s the day those guys are going to take a real whipping,” he smirked.
He arose and walked straight downstairs, passing the bathroom and the kitchen on the way and walked directly to the garage. There they were, glittering in the early morning sunlight as it poured through the window. Their beauty was blinding, all twelve hundred and fifty dollars of it. The sun gleamed from the nine iron, it danced from the seven and sparkled from the three. The soft leather bag accented the brilliant display with a touch of elegance that sent shivers down his spine. Even the head covers on the woods cast their own special radiance completing the grandeur of the scene.
All the extra hours that he had spent at work in order to buy them now seemed a small price to pay for objects of such beauty and perfection, he thought.
Reluctantly, he slowly closed the door and wandered back up the stairs still somewhat awestruck, and began his preparation for what he knew would be his greatest day ever. Mindlessly, he shaved and showered, brushed his teeth and dressed, all the time imagining the taste of triumph that soon would be his.
As he entered the kitchen, Maryanne sat sipping a cup of coffee with the paper spread before her.
“Watson is in the lead at the seniors,” she announced.
“After today, I think he’ll have some problems.” She paused.
“Because, I read that the entire PGA was just issued a special bulletin about Bob Andrew’s new golf clubs and that they better be ready for some stiff competition,” she continued laughingly.
“Seriously Honey, I wish that I could go with you today to see the look on Pete’s face. He’s sure not going to have that old Pete smile on his face when you get done with him,” she commented.
“I think you’re right,” Bob replied confidently.
“I know that those clubs cost a lot. I guess maybe we should have bought a new dishwasher,” he added apologetically.
“But – well, it’s really wonderful of you to understand how much this means to me,” he continued gratuitously.
“You’re a wonderful wife,” he added and kissed her just as a car horn tooted in the driveway.
“By the way honey,” she shouted as he opened the door to the garage, “remember that I’m going to that house sale over on Houston Street this afternoon. If you get home before I do you can come with me. It will probably be about two o’clock.”
“OK,” he replied hastily as he scurried into the garage.
He hurried over to the golf bag, hesitated admiringly for a moment, and threw it over his shoulder. He pressed the garage door button and it rose ever so slowly, like the curtain rising on a Broadway stage, gradually revealing him in all his splendor to those waiting in the van. He was a picture to behold, clad head to toe in perfect attire. He wore a bright blue shirt decorated with multicolored golf balls and tees with white pants and shoes to match. He stood proudly with his sparkling new bag over his shoulder, looking much like a page from “Golf Illustrated”.
He walked to the back of the van and Frank popped the door open. He carefully placed his bag on the floor of the van next to the other bags.
“A diamond among debris,” he thought as he stepped back and closed the door. He walked around and slid into the van next to Mike.
“Holy shit! You really went the whole route,” exclaimed Mike.
“I never thought you’d do it. I thought it was just a lot of bullshit. I never thought you’d go for all that dough - but - they sure do look like some fantastic clubs!” admitted Frank.
Frank put the van in gear and they pulled out of the driveway and headed toward Rocking Ridge.
“How did Maryanne take it?” he asked.
“No problem at all,” boasted Bob.
“She says I deserve them and I do,” he added.
“What are we going to play today? Five-dollar Nassau?” asked Frank.
“Five dollars on the front, five on the back and five over all, plus a dollar on pars and two on birdies?” he continued as he turned and look at the other three.
“I’m feeling pretty lucky today,” replied Bob. “Lets make it ten, ten and ten, two fifty and five.”
There was a short pause in the conversation.
“OK, what the hell, I’ll go along with that,” answered Frank.
“Me too,” agreed Mike.
“All right by me,” added Pete.
“Maybe I can win enough today so that I can get a new set of clubs like Bob.”
Everyone laughed including Bob.
“Well, I’ve got to get the money to pay for them somehow and I guess you guys are it,” he commented wryly.
After several more minutes the course loomed ahead.
“We’ve got a seven forty five tee time and it’s just seven thirty. Perfect!” said Pete as they pulled into the parking lot.
Frank popped the rear door as they all quickly piled out of the van and hurriedly collected their bags from the back. Bob led the pack like a drum major eagerly strutting his steps towards the clubhouse. Pete and Frank followed more leisurely while Mike with his short, stocky legs struggled to keep up.
They reached the clubhouse, paid the greens fees and hustled out to the first tee.
“How are you fellows doing today? You’re all ready to go” said the starter in one breath.
“Good, Don,” replied Frank.
“Looks like you’re doing real good, Mr. Andrews. That’s a beautiful set of clubs you’ve got there. They’ve got to be worth at least five strokes,” Don remarked enthusiastically.
“The guy who sold them to me said ten,” Bob joked back with a broad smile. “But - I hope he’s wrong. I’m looking for fifteen,” he added as he walked ahead to catch the other three at the first tee.
Mike was going through his usual calisthenics warm-up routine looking as if he were preparing for the “Iron Man” competition. Pete was doing his usual knee bends and grunting out his usual moans and groans.
Frank rapidly swung his six and seven irons, which he held in tandem, with a methodical back and forth motion.
Bob removed the head cover from the driver and pulled it from the bag. As he did so, just for a single moment, he had a fleeting thought of King Arthur drawing Excalibur from the stone. He held the club tightly. It had a perfect grip, a perfect balance, and a perfect feel.
“OK, lets flip the tee and see who leads off,” announced Pete and with that he threw the tee into the air.
“Looks like me, then Mike, then Frank, and then you, Bob.”
He carefully placed his ball on its tee, took his customary two practice wings and addressed the ball. He drew back the club and swept the ball from its perch in one long, fluid motion.
“Straight and long. Beautiful!” cheered Mike.
“Hard act to follow,” said Frank as he stepped forward.
Frank’s lean frame rhythmically moved side to side as he prepared for a shot. Then, he stepped forward to the ball and gracefully struck it from the tee with a wide, arcing thrust. The crack of the