Moskowitz's ball hits the sole and boomerangs to the tee mat. He makes the far-right chute on his second shot and the cup on his third.
My ball drops into the far-left chute and disappears. Forever. I look in the hole. Nothing. I search the green. Nothing. I jam my putter up the tube. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Like Mother Hubbard, I don't know what to do.
21. Aladdin's Magic Springs
, 12:30 p.m.
Moskowitz is in his own zone. "I don't even take in the scenery anymore," he says. "We're already on 14, and I just noticed the genie at the entrance."
Diliberto says, "There is no genie at the entrance."
"See what I mean?"
22. Hawaiian Rumble
, 2:33 p.m.
Moskowitz, the minigolf Sabu asks meekly, "Is Hawaii a jungle?"
"Nope," says Diliberto, barely suppressing his glee. "It's tropical."
Diliberto is as hot as molten lava, Moskowitz as dull as his nubby pencil.