Chapter 29

We met Mike and a legendary player at the pro shop at two-thirty. I thought Terry was going to get on his knees and bow to the guy. Since I had not been a golfer for very long, I recognized his name, but he was just another guy to me. He was very friendly.

“You sure are a tall one,” the pro player said looking up at me from under the brim of his hat. “I didn’t know they made clubs long enough for someone your size.” He said smiling.

Terry explained that he was using today and tomorrow for my training, and he was going to talk me through almost every stroke. Mike and the Pro said they would enjoy watching and listening while they played along.

I shot last on the first tee. Terry reminded me to go through my approach and swing by the numbers, telling myself out loud each step and not to mumble, say it like I was teaching. My approach and presentation was good, my practice swing was fine. I presented the face of my club to the ball, drew back then swung through the ball not trying to kill it. The result was almost two hundred ninety yards straight down the fairway of the long par four first hole. Mike and the Pro gasped.

“You damn near drove the green,” Mike said.

“Nice and straight,” the pro added.

The other three guys had to use five irons to get to the green, but all I needed was my pitching wedge. I dropped the ball about a foot from the hole. I made an easy birdie, Terry made a long putt for birdie, and both Mike and the pro two putted for par.

The second hole was a short par three that a nine iron was almost too much for. I put the ball on the green but about twenty feet from the hole. Terry did about the same but closer. Mike and the pro each used a three wood and put the ball darn near into the cup.

Terry told me to remember the feel from the practice green. We looked over the path of the ball to see a distinct grain of the grass that would make the ball curve back toward the hole fairly sharply. I putted out about eight feet and watched the ball curve back toward the hole and stop on the lip. Just a little stronger, and it would have been in. I tapped in for par. The others made their putts for birdie, and we were all even.

The par five third was an equalizer. It was a long, humbling, hole with hazards everywhere. The pro said this hole had lost him several games. I was able to drive over the mid fairway bunkers to a position on the far side of the dogleg for a long chip to the green. Terry talked me through the shot, making sure I had a high arc and didn’t get a lot of spin on the ball. The ball did a neat bounce on the green just on the far side of the pin and then spun backwards into the cup for a double eagle. Mike and the pro couldn’t believe it.

Terry said, “This isn’t the first time he’s done that. His short irons are deadly accurate. Wait until you see him hit out of sand, it’s amazing.”

The rest of the round was like that. I had so much luck on every hole, it was ridiculous. I had a bogey on a couple of holes but ended with a very nice sixty-eight. Terry and Mike both shot a par seventy-two. The pro shot a seventy-one.

“You know I shot one of my better first rounds here ever, and you beat me by three strokes. That is uncanny,” the pro said. “Terry, you’re doing a great job instructing. I’ve never seen someone teach like you’re doing with the student saying out loud everything they are doing.”

“Hopefully, when he’s playing on his own, he will say those same things in his head for each stroke. He’s got a ton of natural talent. All he needs is practice,” Terry said.

“You been playing all your life?” The pro asked me over coffee in the clubhouse.

Terry answered for me. “A couple of years ago, this kid came out to the my club. One of his girl friend’s folks is a member. She asked me to give him some instruction so he could play with her dad. He played his first game two years ago and has played only sporadically since. He has played on his school’s golf team two years now and is doing really well as you can see.”

“That’s a great story,” the pro said. “I bet you play other sports. Athletes do well in golf. That drive of yours is awesome, so long and so straight. Keep that up, and you and I will be playing together on the tour.”

As he was leaving he shook my hand and wished me luck for the sectional.

“Well, what do you think of beating your first major professional golfer. You made me a hundred today,” Terry said patting his pocket. “I bet both those guys fifty that you would equal or beat them. Let’s go get cleaned up and have a steak for supper on our winnings.”

We played Tuesday, but I didn’t do as well. I shot par for the eighteen but missed a couple of fairways. Terry beat me for a change, but Mike was one over. Terry collected twenty for beating Mike and twenty for me beating Mike. We had to promise to give him the opportunity to win his money back by playing him on Thursday. He said he couldn’t even work himself in on Wednesday, as they were booked so heavy.

Wednesday and Thursday mornings, we played the other golf course with instructions on every hole again. On Thursday afternoon, we joined Mike and one of the Open officials. Terry told me to tell myself what to do in my head this time just like I would do tomorrow. Again, I shot par but was playing overly cautious the entire round. Making sure my drives were straight and my irons got me close to the pin. Because I was being tentative, my putts came up short a couple of times. The pro shot par, and Terry was two under, collecting another twenty from Mike.

Friday, my tee time was for nine. I met the three players I would be with on the driving range at seven. At eight, I switched to the practice green, and then Terry and I went to the starters table. They checked my identification and gave me the scorecard. When we went to the first tee, two of the guys had to go behind a bush to throw up. I’m sure glad I had game experience from sports all my life. That is a hell of a way to start the day.

The first day round was almost like the round I played with the pro and Mike, except better. I ended up with a sixty-seven, no double eagles, but a bunch of birdies. Terry and Mike joked later that if I could keep it up, I might meet or beat the course record of sixty-five. After the round, we ate lunch and then watched some of the other players. At three, Terry had me back out on the driving range. We went through every club in the bag just to keep the feel for them. We finished with an hour of putting, thirty minutes of it from as far away as I could get. Terry had this thing about long puts. I thought I should just practice getting closer with my short irons.

Saturday, my tee time was for ten in the morning, so my luck was holding. I ate at seven, getting on the range by quarter to eight. I was bunched with three jokesters who all knew each other. They cut up so much that they actually hindered each other. They should have opted to separate themselves so they would have done better. Terry was caddying for me and told me to just ignore them and keep telling myself how to swing. He was great coaching me on every shot, helping with club selection. I ended with a two-under seventy for the day. Actually, I felt pretty good about it considering the distraction from the clowns I had been with.

Terry had me practicing on the driving range in the afternoon but mostly working on my short irons. There was a big garbage can about fifty yards out. The can had obviously been there for a long time. On the side of it was a giant five with a dollar sign. Terry said that for every ball put in there the club would give you five dollars. After about twenty balls, I put the first one in. Then a few shots later put a second ball in the can. Less than ten balls after that I put my third ball dead center. Terry said that was enough for the day. When we turned in the empty ball baskets, the attendant wrote out a slip that had fifteen dollars written on it. He said to go into the shop, and they would give me cash.

When we went into the pro shop, Mike congratulated me on my rounds and wished me luck for the next day, saying he thought I might be the leader so far. Terry told him I had just won fifteen bucks for dropping three balls into the garbage can.

“No way,” Mike said. “Nobody puts three ball in that can in the same day.”

Terry said the magic words, “Wanna bet?”

“Damn right I do,” Mike exclaimed. “Come on I’ll get another bucket, and if he can put one ball into the can I’ll pay up. How much you got kid?”

“I don’t bet sir,” I answered.

Terry shrugged his shoulders and said, “I just can’t get him to part with his money. I’ll go easy on you though Mike, let’s make it twenty.”

“Twenty? Hell no, let’s make it fifty. Shit, half the club would bet a hundred you couldn’t do three in the same day,” Mike gestured toward the door.

My fourth ball dropped into the bucket. Mike handed Terry the fifty and then told me to keep going and see how many I could do. Of the fifty balls, I put seven in the can. Mike wanted to go get a bunch of club members and make wagers for the rest of the day. Terry just laughed and said that I had probably practiced enough for the day. He did remind Mike that besides the fifteen for the first three balls I now had another thirty-five coming for the seven more.

“You’re going to break the bank, kid. You’re expensive. Every time I wager against you, you’re taking my money. Guess I better get on your side,” Mike said, getting money out of the register for me.

“You see,” Terry said. “You just paid for all those range balls for the whole trip. Tomorrow morning we’ll see if you can hit signs.”

Sunday, my tee time was one in the afternoon. We changed up a little and had breakfast and then played around on the practice green a while. They had a sand trap with another small practice green, and that’s where Terry had me blasting balls. When we were through, I had to take off my shoes and socks to get all the sand off my feet. Since we checked out of the hotel, I had more socks in the car, so I changed socks and then went to the driving range. Terry had me use my mid-irons and to try to hit the hundred yard marker. It was a half sheet of plywood, so it was pretty big. It is very difficult to control a five iron enough to hit a target at a hundred yards. What was funny, though, was when I used my seven, and nine iron, I was able to hit the board nearly every time. We ended up at eleven working with my driver and fairway woods.

We ate a slow light lunch and then walked around a little looking at all the equipment displayed by the various manufacturers. Terry said that there should be some equipment prizes at the end of the day, plus we bought raffle tickets from every booth.

The guys I was bunched with on Sunday were all serious about the round. All of us had shot pretty well the previous two days and wanted a good third round. No one discussed what he had shot previously, but we all knew we were close.

I wasn’t perfect, but darned close. I shot three under for the day and ten under for the tournament. When I turned in my scorecard, the judge used a red marker to initial it and put it in a separate container. Another judge wrote my numbers onto a big sheet and then told me to go into the next tent for an exit interview. I wandered in and was directed to a folding table with a couple of men there. They asked me about the day’s round and then asked about the Friday and Saturday’s rounds. They were just nodding their heads and saying “Good, good.” They asked about the course and about whether I thought they had been organized well. I told them I was happy with everything and that this was actually only my second amateur tournament other than at school. They wished me luck and told me where to be for the posting of the people who would be invited to the Open.

Terry and I cleaned up and put my equipment in the car, and then we ate a nice early supper while waiting for the results. At six there was a big commotion at the tournament bulletin board. Next to it was a platform with a podium and microphone. One of the exit interview guys got up and said that the people going to the open were going to be announced from worst to best scores. The worst score of the thirty-five guys going to the open was ten over. This continued until there were two guys that had been two under for the three days. The next announcement stunned me, he called my name and told the listeners that my score was an unbelievable ten under par. Terry was slapping me on my back and yelling, “Told ya, told you so.”

“Charles Johnson, would you come up here please,” the announcer broadcast. He had two other guys with good scores come up too.

“We have some prizes donated by some manufacturers. No money, because you guys are probably amateurs, but prizes are always okay. For the third place winner, we have a really nice golf bag, with a wheeled cart and a putter. For the second place winner, another bag, cart, and putter, plus this new style driver with two boxes of balls.” The announcer was very demonstrative, dragging the prizes over into piles.