After a while you know who’s ahead of you or behind you by simply identifying one of the participants.
In our case, since we tee off so early, anyone in front has to be Wayne. He meets us up on tee No. 1, having already played eight holes. If we see a cart or two ahead its Greg, Fred, Allan and sometimes….
On Wednesday mornings during the summer months the lobstermen get together around then, as do a few of the ladies. And so on and so on.
The four guys who make up the regulars in our unholy synod are all retired so we play a lot. Bruce still works and makes it when he can.
And it’s difficult to get into one of these groups.
For one thing you have to fit in. If you don’t, you make the round miserable for everybody.
Then again some people like to play alone and we have a few at the Yarmouth Links.
Some of them play ‘speed golf,’ darting from this fairway to the next in their golf carts. Usually this occurs when the traffic is minimal so nobody complains . . . much.
I was playing by my lonesome one morning about four years ago when I heard this booming voice from the next fairway. There was this huge black man and little guy looking at my direction.
“You want to play with us?” the boom box reiterated. “Sure,” I answered.
That’s how I met Steve and Charlie. Dough and Hughie came next. I already knew Bruce and later we all met Wayne. And thus began friendships which last to this day.
Let us say that among the initial four and five of us, there was and is something lacking in parts of our game. But when we play as a team, voila! Stress free golf. Oh, we do keep score. We actually try to beat our best one, which is 12 under. But on the whole we have a ball, each hit a few good shots or putts, and call it a day pleased with our endeavours and forgetting about the water balls and missed putts.
Which reminds of a yarn.
Scotty and MacTavish were life-long golf buddies. Despite their advancing age they still managed 12 holes each day, riding a cart mind you, when the weather permitted.
One day they made a pact, which was as follows: if one of them died before the other, he would return and inform the living one if there were any golf courses in heaven.
One day Scotty passed on beyond the fringe. And sure enough the very next night MacTavish woke up to find Scotty looking at him at his bedside, all dooded-up in his golf shirt, shorts and cradling a mashie as old as the Battle of Culloden.
After his blood pressure returned to normal he prodded Scotty about the golf courses in heaven.
“Well,” Scotty said, “I have good news and bad news on that question. Which do you want answered first?”
“The good news,” MacTavish opined.
“There are hundreds of golf courses, thousands of them. All perfect. Everything’s ideal for golfers. Best clubs, carts, and bar service,” he replied. “So what’s the bad news?” MacTavish asked. “We’re both teeing off Wednesday at ten,” Scotty replied.
SHORT PUTTS
Despite the threat of rain the Clara Caie Memorial Golf Tournament took place at the Yarmouth Links recently with 30 people taking part. Winning the men’s division was Dick Barnett and the women’s division was Sheila Pothier; names you no doubt will hear again in this column in the coming months.
Guess who’s going to be the parade marshal at Yarmouth’s Seafest Parade in a few months? Our own Volunteer of the Year, Yarmouth Links manager Lynn Doucette, that’s who.
Have a youngster who will bug you hanging around the house this summer? Why not get him or her into golf. For junior golfers, the cost is nada, nothing. That’s right. Later this month there will be a parent-child junior day. Why not inquire? The next tournament of note will be the Father’s Day even on June 14.
No aces so far at the Links. Maybe during the July thaw some balls will fall out of the sky.
