"Golf is gone," he said, shaking his head.
"Golf will come back," said Claude.
"When?" I said to Claude.
King Hassan finished out the nine holes in something like 43. He hit a few more bad shots, but he also hit some good ones, including a fine three-wood to the last green, where he picked up his fifth par of the round.
He went then to the practice tee, chatted with his friends for a moment, signed a few documents, read through some papers an aide handed him and then began soaring several practice shots off into the distance.
They were remarkably straight.
The king looked up and smiled.
"Golf come back," he said.
As we were driven back to our hotel in Fez, we passed along the Boulevard des Saadiens. Through the car window I saw an Arab in a djellaba sitting cross-legged on the grass looking at an object in his hand.
It was most likely a golf ball that had "King Hassan II" engraved on it. But the Arab would not know what it was, I figured. And he would never understand what it might mean to his country.