Chapter 3

MY EXPECTATIONS

I saw Kelly Tilghman and Rich Lerner talking about me and my swing. She sure is pretty!

Apparently somebody at ‘my 54’ videoed me and now Tim Rosaforte was telling everyone how I must be a lefty who got turned, making the comment that ‘most righties should play left-handed for the same reasons.’

I went into the bathroom and freshened up a bit, as Cory got up and touched up her lip-gloss a little. I looked at her and she said, “If I am going to be on TV, I want to look my best!”

“Do you know why I kept you from answering the reporter’s question?”

“You said it was none of their business, didn’t you?”

“That’s only part of it, how many people know you as Cory Mack and how many people know you as Cory Masters, my sister?”

“Oh, JM ... I’m sorry!”

“While that 54 did great for UNLV, and me ... you could be revealed as my sister, maybe sending us both to jail,” I suggested.

“I have got an idea, but I better call Dad first,” I said.

I got on the phone and talked to Dad, asking him about a thought I had...

We were the last to get in the van to go to the course, as I said, “Everybody ... there is something that Cory and I need to tell you, we just got engaged to be married and plan to get married just as soon as we can. We don’t want to wait any longer.”

Stewart was opening his mouth, about to say something, but Cory quickly added, “No, Stewie ... I am not pregnant ... yet?”

Everyone broke out into laughter along with a few ‘Congratulations,’ as well.

We got to the course and there were some photographers there, I guess they will hound us for a while. We made our announcement to them as well.

Coach came up to me and quietly asked, “Is everything OK, Johnny?”

“Sure is Coach ... thanks for asking,” I responded with a big smile.

The Mountain West Conference (MW) is one of the collegiate athletic conferences that are part of the NCAA.

At the moment the conference includes:

Air Force Falcons

Boise State Broncos

Colorado State Rams

Fresno State Bulldogs

Hawaii Warriors

University of Nevada Wolfpack

New Mexico Lobos

San Diego State Aztecs

UNLV Rebels

Wyoming Cowboys

With the motivation of Coach Knight and me, our six players came through coming in Second in the MWC Playoffs and I had a record 185 for the same three days. (61-64-63)

After the conference came the regionals my guys were outplayed by Stanford dropping the team to observers. My three-day conference score was another record 179 (58-62-59).

Next up were nationals!

They were played at Karsten Creek Golf Club in Stillwater, Oklahoma in 2011, the 73^rd NCAA Golf Championship. The Augusta State Jaguars won the team event.

I played John Peterson from LSU in the Individual Match Play Championship. The night before, Cory and I found and did a careful plotting of every hole.

During and between all our golf, many things happened:

With the year Cory and I were having, we discussed the probability of leaving UNLV for the Pros.

With Dad’s help, she became Corrine Susan Mack, and we got officially engaged. The ring on her finger was excellent!

Corrine Masters died in an accident.

With the Coach’s permission, I was invited to play at the Pines Course in Boston, Massachusetts. Since 1987, it has been the longest golf course in the USA at 8,325 yards, Par 73.

Coach Knight added the proviso I paid for everything out of my own pocket, so I called Dad and of course, he said ‘Yes’ immediately, giving me the OK to book the flight for the two of us. He had added that the funeral for Corrine was ‘beautiful,’ a few friends came by to see the graveside service.

We landed at Logan Airport, staying at the nearby Hilton. We were treated like royalty, being fawned over a bit. Cory couldn’t stop grinning and giggling whenever someone stopped and asked for either an autograph or a picture. We needed to get some pictures!

After dinner, we went back into the room and found the golf course online, with great detail. The powers that be had said, we would be playing with a Touring Pro, but no names were divulged.

Getting a very restful sleep, we got up and arrived at the course in our rental car, to a couple of dozen golf paparazzi. We walked into the Pro Shop and at the counter was PGA Professional Adam Scott and Rick Smith, the golf instructor for the facility.

Introducing ourselves, shaking hands and such, Adam said, “I thought of you playing at this course, John ... It’s a long course ... you are a long hitter. A match made in heaven!”

“Thank you, Mr. Scott and Mr. Smith ... I appreciate it a lot. I assume we will have a throng following us?”

“You assumed correctly, and call us Adam and Rick,” Rick said. “Watching your swing makes feel old, but excited about your potential. When Adam told me about you putting a shot in the hole from 150 yards at Southern Highlands, I knew we needed to bring you here. Along with your lovely fiancée and golf caddy.”

“Can I hit some balls first, please?” I asked.

“Certainly,” Adam responded.

“Expect to be talked to the whole time. When the media gets hold of a phenomenon like you, they always want to know everything about you ... and your caddy,” he said as I looked at Cory, who looked troubled.

I walked to her, giving her a kiss, and said, “Thanks for the heads-up guys, give me fifteen minutes to warm-up?”

“Sure,” they both said.

We walked out to the practice area, with photographers everywhere.

“Yes, I am 19 and she’s 18 and we’re getting married after the UNLV golf season,” I kept repeating. “My father turned me from being a left hander ... We met when I was eight and she was seven. She does go to UNLV as a student. It’s sad that I missed my sister’s funeral, she was my best friend, and a friend of my fiancée as well, I will miss her deeply.” Cory even cried a little. We touched hands for a second.

As I settled in, I started my usual routine, announcing I began with the two-iron, I was asked by a voice, “Why a two-iron Johnny, most everyone else uses a six or seven-wood?”

“Has anybody else ever shot a 54 around here?” I asked causing them to quiet down a bit. “Cory, hand me the ‘New’ Bertha, that’s what these guys want to see, isn’t it?”

They all shook their heads, like a bunch of bobble-heads.

I had set up and stroked a ball about 380 yards, to which I looked and saw their collective mouths open.

“Could I get five minutes alone with my caddy, please?” I asked.

I gave her the club back, plus a little kiss. She whispered, “NO MERCY” as we walked to the first tee.

Adam and Rick smiled at me and gave me honors, as I heard a voice from the golf shop come over the speakers, “Now playing in the 9:50 tee off time, is Australian Professional Golfer and two-time winner on the PGA Tour Adam Scott. With him today is Professional Golf Teacher Rick Smith, who has instructed Phil Mickelson, Greg Norman and Lee Janzen among others.”

There was a nice response from the crowd for these highly talented men.

“Our threesome today has the newest sensation in golf in a number of years, Johnny Masters ... who recently became the first golfer on the planet to shoot a 54, on a course over 6,500 yards long.”

“It was 6,814 yards,” Cory corrected, as the crowd laughed then applauded and shouted for me.

“Mr. Masters has been given honors today ... When you are ready?” the faceless voice said.

Cory and I had picked out a spot on the right to aim for, as I prepared for a draw ... and I swung, at about 80% strength. It settled, leaving me about 80 yards from the center of the green.

The applause was significant, as both Adam and Rick applauded as well, with Adam saying, “Oh, dear ... this is going to be a long day!”

The crowd laughed.

They both hit, and it had begun!

We all birdied the hole, me traditionally, but Adam recovered from the sand brilliantly and Rick made a 30-foot putt for his. I was one under par.

After we all shot a Par-Four on the next hole ... the first Par-Five of the day was next ... a 674-Yard monster and I’d settled enough to take my Bertha out for a spin on this hole.

We planned to shorten this hole by going over the tree line on the left. Aiming to the right edge of the tree line, opening my left foot a bit, and I swung. This time with all I had, and it wrapped over the trees, landing with about 160 yards left to the green.

This must have been what the crowd had been waiting for as they all got much too loud for a golf course, but it did feel good to be so well liked.

Rick said, “Do you have a cannon I can borrow, Adam ... Wow, I am glad I am not on tour anymore... 19 years old!”

There was a titter through the crowd over this comment, I believe I just got the nickname, ‘The Cannon,’ but I didn’t mind.

I got my eagle, and they shot par on the hole, and the following 180-Yard Par-Three as well.

Hole number five ... the number one handicap hole on this course... 715 yards long, Par 6 and a dogleg left.

I almost would have liked one of the others to hit first, because of the narrowness of the fairway, so I took out my four-wood, teed it up and put it perfectly straight down the fairway about 340 yards. The other two used their drivers and got it a bit past me, but I wasn’t playing for them as much as for the crowd, my folks, and my fiancée.

I laid up directly in front of the green, as did both Adam and Rick.

After they both dropped wedges to the middle of the green, Cory handed me the Lob Wedge. I was only 30 yards from the front of the green, and the pin was about dead center of the nearly football field sized green.

After a couple of practice swings, I hit it perfectly, landing four feet past the hole and it came back to roll in for a three on the hole ... what is that called, three under on a hole? I asked Cory ... She said, “You just had your second official ALBATROSS, JM!”

The crowd went ballistic as Cory tried to control herself, but we weren’t on the green, so we kissed.

Adam walked to his shot, slapping me on the back on his way by. “Nice shot, young man ... I may retire and watch you beat up on everyone else.” I raised my wedge to acknowledge the still loud throng, which I swear, had more than doubled in size.

By the end of the front nine, I had shot a 32, five under par ... with Adam having a 34 and Rick a 33. Par was 37!

There was a break for a little bit of food ... Cory left me the clubs to go pee.

“So,” Rick said, “I can tell that you are a turned lefty, I would love to know how much club head speed you are generating at impact, John. My guess is between 140 and 150? Adam, what do you think?”

“He hits it long and straight, with little noise in his swing Rick, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was upwards of 160 to 170.”

Cory bounded out and said, “Miss me?”

I gave her a nice kiss, causing our crowd to chuckle a bit, as I wolfed down a hot dog, plus taking a bottle of water for my girl and me. I paid the food gentleman. Adam tried to pay for me, but I insisted.

Moving to the back nine ... I was ready to smoke some drives.

Cory gave me Bertha to start the back nine, as an “Attaboy Cannon” came out of the crowd, causing people to shoo the guy and they collectively got quiet.

With a wind behind me, I could dream of driving the green from 440 yards, but I simply hit a great shot that stopped leaving an easy lob wedge, from in front of the green.

Taking a big breath, Adam walked to the tee and said, “Here we go again, everybody,” and hit it in the rough about 70 yards from the green.

Rick hit an iron about 240, leaving a long layup of sorts. I got my birdie, and they both scrambled to get pars.

Hole 11 had to have been designed by a sado-masochist ... online Cory and I counted 22 bunkers, on both sides of the fairway ... Curse You Red Baron!

Par-Five, 590 yards!

This hole is nothing but trouble ... Cory and I discussed different ways to approach it, so I took a risk and asked for my four-wood, in an effort to get past the deep bunkers on the right.

Adam walked up to me and asked, “Where are you aiming, John?”

“Past the right-side bunkers with a fade, so I don’t have to put my second shot over all of those shitty little bunkers on the left.”

“You know John, with the way you strike the ball, you could try something I have always wanted to see someone do?”

“And that is?” I asked anxiously.

“Put your shot in the rough between the shitty bunkers and OB on the left. Depending on the lie you have, you would have a legitimate chance to go over the trees and on the green in two. If anybody could do it, you can?” he said.

The crowd must have heard his advice, I started hearing a chant, “Can-non, Can-non, Can-non...”

“Two Wood, Cory!”

She handed it to me saying, “NO MERCY, CANNON!”

The chant behind me got bigger as I took my practice swings, then they suddenly stopped. I aimed in the middle of the ‘shitty bunkers,’ hoping for the littlest of a draw to land soft and not get buried or go OB.

Everything stopped ... no sound, no breeze, just me, and the golf course. I addressed the ball and gave it an abbreviated backswing and followed thru big.

The ball took off and everybody yelled ‘Go left!’ together and it landed and bounced off the edge of a trap, producing a puff of what looked like smoke and landed soft in the long cut of rough, really close to OB.

Rick put up a Ballfinder and said, “That easy two-wood ... just went 330 yards, Johnny ... nice shot!” Cory and I went out there with the crowd following Rick and Adam around the corner of the little bunkers. We figured I was right at 200 yards away, but I was going to have to go over the trees.

Cory remarked, “That’s a four-iron shot JM, you just need to get it up and over the trees. You have never had a shot like this before ... your call, Cannon!”

I went to the bag, giving her a kiss, and taking a drink of water. I took the four-iron and practice swung a few times. I needed to get it up on the top tier of the green ... so a draw was in order. I aimed at the lower tier, hoping against hope that the power draw would take me to the top.

Cory gave me the correct angle and I addressed the ball, and over swung, on purpose.

I waited for the crowd to tell me what had happened. A loud cheer came up as I saw my ball 30 feet below the pin and just on the upper tier.

I came walking up, with my trusted four-iron up in the air, like I was a conquering hero of some kind. This is what it must feel like to be Adam Scott, or Rick Smith, or even my hero growing up, Davis Love III!

Cory handed me the putter, as I went up and marked my ball. Surprisingly, it was unscathed, although I thought I had heard it hit something as it barely cleared the trees. I threw it to her ... she cleaned it and threw it back.

Adam was putting for a par and made it. The crowd was quite nice to him. Rick had gotten in trouble off the tee getting into one of the deep bunkers on the right. He was putting for a bogey, and it dropped.

Cory and I surveyed the putt, being very uphill but rather straight. I looked up to see where the mountains were, and then I got ready to putt.

I hit it and immediately thought I hadn’t hit it hard enough as it achingly went towards the hole, getting to the very precipice. I started towards it to tap it in and it dropped in the hole, causing the crowd to go nuts, as I raised my putter and smiled inwardly to myself.

The next couple of holes were an emotional letdown after that, but I had two pars and two birdies as I walked up to number 18, a Par-Five 656-yard, extreme dogleg right. I played it safe teeing off with my two-iron, turning the corner with my four-wood and a pitching wedge to an elevated and very small green, comparatively speaking. I waited for the other guys to make their birdies as I dropped my putt in for one as well, for a back nine score of 30, for a score of 61, 12 under par!

Rick had a 34, for a score of 67, while Adam shot 33 on the back added to his 34 on the front, also for a 67.

As we walked together to the clubhouse, the crowd spontaneously started to applaud, so I turned to them putting my arms out to quiet them down. I noticed an ESPN TV crew had been waiting, as well.

Getting a bit emotional, I said, “Folks, I would like to thank everyone-who made today possible. Of course, Adam Scott and Rick Smith, along with everyone here at the International Golf Club and Resort at the Pines Course. I don’t expect to come back to this course unless and until I am a professional golfer, but until then, myself and my fiancée Cory-thank you immensely for your support and appreciation. My Coach and teammates at UNLV also help me to be my best. This is a sport of gentlemen and gentle persons alike, Thank you all!”

“Attaboy Cannon!” came from the back of the group.

“Yes ... and I like that better than the ‘54 kid,’ a lot!”

Everyone laughed, applauded, and cheered as Adam and Rick walked up to Cory and me.

Adam said, “Young man, I am proud to have played with you and your pretty caddy today. I have never worked so hard for a 67, to get beat by six strokes.”

“Johnny,” Rick said, “I agree with everything Adam just said and I expect to see you on the Pro Tour very soon. I think you need to only work on distance, I am certain you could get at least a hundred more yards out of the Bertha you are using...”

Cory slapped him on the shoulder and giggled.

“Seriously, next time you are out this way, I’d like a lesson from you please!” Rick said as Adam and Cory laughed.

“We have got a nice restaurant inside, with good food,” Rick added. “Leave your clubs in the Pro Shop.”

“I am hungry, JM!” Cory said as she took my arm as we walked into the Dining Room. I checked, and it had an ‘OK for Spikes’ sign.

As we entered, everyone in the dining area rose up and started applauding, causing me to break into tears, even Cory was watery in the eyes, as I got my feet back under me and we walked up to the hostess.

“Hello, I am Gloria ... anyplace in particular you’d like to sit?”

“N-no, anywhere is fine, thank you,” I said.

She walked up past some tables as we heard people saying such things as, “My goodness, isn’t he young?” and “Aren’t they the cutest couple ever?” as we were seated and given each a menu. A nice young man came over filling our water glasses and took our order. I was powerfully hungry. That’s an expression of my Dads.

About forty minutes later I paid, and we left, waving to everyone ... Most waved back.

We got back to where we were staying. We had an early morning flight back to Vegas and the Campus Apartment we call home.

I had another bunch of emails, this time one from Mom.

“Kids,”

“I just wanted to drop a line to you both, to tell you how sad it was to go through the machinations of treating our daughter like she’s dead. We did get some obnoxious phone calls asking detailed questions about Johnny, but all is well ... They have stopped bothering us. I understand your fiancée has colored her hair, could you send me a picture whenever you can?”

“I am very proud of my children, for the trouble they are going through to be together, and I can only hope you two have the same kind of happiness your father and I have had for over twenty years.”

“Your father told me to be sure to have you erase this email, after you have read it ... This is all very MISSION IMPOSSIBLE, Love you much!”

Cory had gotten behind me and read it with me and cried with me as well. Mom was right about it all, it’s almost like we’re on a lifeboat, barely tethered to a ship that’s just beyond the horizon.

I sent her back an email to recommend she change it and send us the new one!

We changed for bed, snuggled up close and fell asleep.

“Just a minute guys,” Coach said. “John, you are not old enough to remember The International, why are you doing this?”

“Coach, it was played from 1986 through 2006, when I was only 13 years old. It was my favorite Tournament because of Davis Love III, who won this twice, including the year I turned eight and got turned on to golf, watching it with my Dad and re-explaining the scoring system to him every year because he couldn’t wrap his head around it. I want the guys to think about the match, the course ... not the shots themselves.”

The few times I had the guys playing International style using Stableford scoring, they got better each time. I wanted them to be good enough to play it when I bring it back!

After we were through playing in the regionals, I was surrounded by all of the other players and coaches all wanting to congratulate me, as I saw Cory waving at me and coming up beside me.

Coach saw me eyeing her, and his eyes moistened over as he gave me the high sign. I fought against the crowd until I found her, grabbing her, and giving her the most wonderful kiss, I could, in that moment. When I finally let her up to breathe, she said, “Oooh, Cannon!”

“A couple of things everybody, after Nationals, regardless of the results ... I am leaving to become a Professional Golfer. I don’t intend to play for 30 years like so many have before. Cory and I have a five-year plan, then I will retire from golf and start making babies with this young lady next to me. I hope you understand ... it’s my final decision!”

We all had a week off from golf before Nationals began, so we could make school our priority for a while. I just heard my computer ding a bunch. I decided to ignore them for the moment as I looked back and saw my fiancée, naked as a jaybird. With a fresh drapes coloring and no carpeting to be seen.

I got naked as well, and started by chewing on her lunchbox, causing her to twitch and moan a bit, she was remarkably tasty as I pulled up from there and slipped in my hardness generating a warbling “OOoooOOooo” from Cory.

She put out her arms, wanting me to get to her mouth. Instead I grabbed around her back and picked her up into the air, and ‘dropfucked’ her while I sucked on her tits and her mouth.

“Oooh, Johnny ... Woo Oh, yeah ... drop me, yeah drop me on your cannon. I can’t wait for your cannon, JM ... Ooooh, yeah.”