Chapter 3

Despite getting away very early, we found out that with slow highway speeds, an inexperienced RV jockey (me) and that big, clunky vehicle, Hammond, Indiana was a very long one-day drive. Hammond may be, technically, in Indiana, but it's right up against Chicago, Illinois, which meant it was as far to the northwest as we could go, on a drive from North Carolina, and still say we were in Indiana.

The three-day tournament was to begin on Friday, June 30, but we arrived late Tuesday so that Tess could get in two days of practice on the tournament course. We located the RV Park nearest to the golf course (where we already had reserved space) and settled in, well after dark, for our first night together on the road.

"You tired?" Tess asked me, obviously referring to my day of wrestling the big vehicle.

"No. This monster is remarkably comfortable to drive. It just took a little while for me to calm down about how big it is. Having all that bulk under your control is a little scary -- but by the time we were fifty miles out from home, I was fine."

"Let's find a good restaurant," Tess suggested. We had ample supplies of good food -- mostly Lean Cuisine and Healthy Choice frozen convenience dinners -- in the RV, but we both wanted to get out and explore. I uncoupled Tess' tiny Toyota Scion from the back of the RV and we headed back to the Interstate to find a restaurant that was still serving dinner.

At that hour, we finally had to settle for one of the ubiquitous Cracker Barrel restaurants. Late in the evening, the place had a different "feel" than had the near-identical Cracker Barrel chain eateries I had been inside of, in daylight, so many times before.

And the food, although a little heavy, wasn't half bad.

"I'm going crazy, I'm so excited!" Tess said.

"Yeah. Your first professional tournament. It's gotta be a thrill."

"I know it's only the Futures Tour, and it's only Hammond, Indiana, and I'm only a rookie college-girl golfer with zippo experience, but..."

"... But this could be the start of something big!" I finished the thought for her.

"Exactly!... God, Will, I can't think of anybody I'd rather share this with, than you."

Well, that statement kind of shut me up. I mean, we'd been getting along great, and I knew Tess liked me and appreciated me. But, hey. I mean, wow! "Well, thank you, Tess," I said. I had to say something.

Maybe my expression told her that what she'd said had really made me feel great.

By the time we got back to the RV, it was 11 p.m. "I want to get out there by 8 o'clock," Tess said. "You get up at whatever hour you choose, so long as we can leave at, like, 7:45 sharp."

I agreed, and we said our goodnights. My tiny little bedroom cubicle was just off the kitchen area, about midway back in the RV. Tess' more commodious bedroom-bath combo was the last major compartment in the RV's rear, just ahead of a large storage area that served as a buffer against noise from the big rear engine.

Wednesday morning we arrived right on time at the country club where the tournament was to be held. After a quick breakfast and some tournament registration paperwork with the club's management, we were on the course.

At the request of the course manager, Tess agreed to play in a threesome. Both of the other women were also in town for the Northwest Indiana Futures Golf Classic. Both, although quite young, were far more experienced on the tour than was Tess. Both women had hired local caddies -- young men who seemed, to me, to be carbon copies of the guys I was accustomed to working with back at our home course.

None of the three women had ever seen the gorgeous New Innsbrook Country Club course on which the tournament was to be played. All three were somewhat intimidated. I wasn't any authority on golf courses, but I noticed this one was flatter, and had far more numerous water hazards, than the courses we typically played back home. The flat terrain made it, to me, seem like an easier course to play.

Tess didn't think so. "Lots of trees in ugly places," she said. "Lots of deep rough, and ridiculously narrow fairways."

"Yeah, but you hit long and straight. This place was made for your game." Mr. Positive, that's me.

"If I can stay out of the water," she said, shaking her head.

"Par is 72," I told her. The tournament record for this course is eight under for the three rounds." I'd read the brochure.

"Three days of 69s ought to do it, then," Tess said.

OK, call me a juvenile jerk, but that phrase -- "three days of 69s" coming from Tess' lips -- resonated with me for all the wrong reasons. (I know, I know. That's puerile.)

The practice round went pretty well, although neither Tess nor her two playing partners could break par that day. Tess had a 74 and so did one of her playing partners. The other one posted a 76.

Tess spent another 90 minutes after the round on the driving range, working with her three-wood and long irons. As always, I stayed in the background, saying nothing. I wasn't the kind of caddie who could double as swing coach.

"I'm not getting much distance," she told me as we stowed her club bag in the back of the Scion for the trip back to the RV.

"I wouldn't worry," I said. "The course strikes me as one that rewards accuracy above all else. They have three holes with water that can come into play on long drives -- even pretty good ones -- off the tee. You've gotta play conservative, work on placement, rely more on your approach shots than on driving from the tees. Your approach shots today were pretty solid."

"You're right. I saw it the same way. Tomorrow, I'm going to deliberately hold back, and I'm not going to use the driver at all, except on that first par five."

"Want me to cook supper?" I asked. Cooking supper meant, really, only running the microwave for one or more of our supply of Lean Cuisine dinners.

"Let's come back out here again," she said. "It's early. I want to come back, practice my putting before it gets dark."

Thursday, playing a practice round again in a threesome -- this time with still-another tournament entrant and a female club member -- Tess shot an even-par 72. She had implemented her planned strategy of easing up on her natural power off the tees.