Golf’s Most Sensitive Subject|
Today I am going to rip the covers from the deepest darkest secret area of Golf. If you have not gotten a grade 1 top security clearance from the PGA, I will still tell you about it but I’ll have to kill you.
This area is so sensitive that not even cornstarch and rash cream will help.
I am speaking of none other than, (looks around conspiratorially)…betting.
I know probably think that golf is a “pure” sport. The pristine fairways and immaculate greens lend themselves to just such a viewpoint. The good-natured bonhomie displayed out in the open areas adds to the mythology.
Just the same, there is a steamy underbelly to the jovial camaraderie.
For example: Player A, (we’ll call him Carson) and Player B, (let’s call him Ted Bunkle of 141 Persimmon Place) are enjoying an early tee time. It is a lovely Spring morning in God’s country. Little birdies are singing love songs to their potential mates and squirrels are fussing and doing do-nuts in the fairway. We will, for the time being, ignore the fact that Ted…excuse me… Player B is a low down bet-welching four-flusher whose ancestry includes horse thieves.
I can say this because he is a good friend. I can say this because it is true.
One day last fall, I said I would love to experience the joy of a hole-in-one.
Player B replied, “ Yeah? Well if you ever get one, I’ll buy your dinner, wash and wax your car and do a naked head stand in the pro shop.”
“You’re on!” I laughed. “ Here…Shake on it.”
He shook and pledged his solemn word. I am sure he thought there was no way, unless the place WAAAAAY down South froze over and the devil had to wear muk luks, that he would ever have to pay off.
Then air conditioning was installed in Hades.
I know this to be true because on March 18th at 7:35 A. M. My ball plunked into the cup from the tee of the beautiful number 7 overlooking the sewer line at the Mooresville Municipal Golf Course and Oil Change facility.
I am sure Player B must have heard about it on ESPN. If not, he should have caught on when I left him seven phone messages.
He avoided me. I had his number. I knew how to get him to pay up. I made reservations for lobster and steak at Billy Bob’s Ranch House Saloon and Bikini Wax Emporium. I went mudding in my four-wheel drive Jimmy so he’d have something to wash. I made a poster to hang in the Pro Shop that read: “COMING SOON…TED BUNKLE’S EXTRAORDINARY NAKED HEADSTAND…SEE CARSON FOR TICKETS. BRING YOUR CAMERAS! OR YOUR BLINDFOLDS!
Needless to say that Player B made up some flimsy excuse about it not even being the same season. Like a year would make a difference. I will eventually let him off the hook but this proves my point, whatever it was to begin with.
Can you imagine the icons of golf BETTING?
Vijay and Tiger are playing at the magnificent Quail Hollow in Charlotte, North Carolina.
Tiger says to Vijay, “I’d love to get a hole-in-one on the number seven dogleg to the left.”
Vijay replies, “Dat vuud be velly good, Tiger. In fact it vuud be sew velly good dat I vuud vahsh your vehicle and do a naked headstand on camera on 18.”
Tiger says, “Shake on it Veeger!”
Solemn vows are verified.
Tiger promptly holes number seven.
Now, in the high stratosphere of major golf, one cannot welch on the most ridiculous bet. Can you imagine the lost endorsements? It would be a scandal like the one Charlie Hustle had. Vijay would have to hang up his spikes and retire!
So, He pays off the debt and moves on, in the sure and certain knowledge that every die-hard fan understands.
If HE can do it, so can Player B! It his golf duty!
By the way, Ted? The number for the restaurant is conveniently posted next to the billboard with your picture in the Pro Shop!
For more golf humor, please visit author Carson Cockman's Blog Site.
© Copyright 2006 by Carson Cockman
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