"Oh, no!" I gasped. "What's that word... ?"
"Fore!" Willie yelled, as my ball zipped not three feet past her head. She turned around, this fan of mine, and gestured, possibly with her middle finger.
How the hell was I supposed to know that I—I!—would hit a great drive? Sometimes good shots happen to bad golfers.
Anyway, I was in the zone, baby. I accidentally parred the next hole. Willie congratulated me, somewhat insincerely. I felt guilty, like I was cruelly breaking a pact with my own son, a pact that we'd both be bad for so long as we both shall live. If anyone had the luck, I wanted it to be him. Well, not really....
I didn't have to ponder that ethical dilemma for long. I went into a bit of a slump for the next, say, hour and a half. That's the thing about golf. You hit a decent shot, maybe even three in a row, and you think that maybe you've finally found the groove, once and for all.
But of course you haven't. It's just luck. It's like shooting craps in Vegas and winning a few rolls before going on a losing streak from 11 p.m. to 4 a.m. You're making out like a bandit with the complimentary cocktails, but you're out five grand.
Willie was particularly frustrated. He's a natural athlete accustomed to excelling at "real" sports. He had played twice before on this vacation, had improved the second time and assumed he'd play even better this time. But no. That's not the way o' the links.
We reached the final tee. I hit a chopper down the third base line and decided to take another. A mulligan. And another. A McMulligan? An O'Shaughnessy? I'm not sure what they call that third try. And another. Erin go bragh! This was turning into a St. Patrick's Day parade of drives.
Then my son stepped up and hit a beauty—an awesomely powerful drive, perhaps 250 or even 300 yards, plus a great roll after it hit the highway. Then he hit another, and another, and another, until a groundskeeper " came over the hill. He was probably a member of a search party dispatched to see if those two guys who rented the clubs hours before were still out there hacking away.
He was shouting something, Was there an emergency? No....