Look, I'm just one, I said. Can I play through?
"If you're not going to try" my lovely wife said, "then I'll just go on back to the hotel and wait for you by the swimming pool."
By the end of the 3rd hole I had cost our team a net birdie by missing a two-foot putt—specifically, my wife said, because I refused to take a cigarette out of my mouth before I stroked the ball, and I had smashed another drive out of bounds and made a double bogey.
"You have a good swing," Donna Caponi was kind enough to say, "if you'll slow it down about four speeds."
Yeah, I know what to do, I said. It's just that sometimes, if you drink a little....
"You'll be O.K.," Donna said. "Just take it back low and slow."
A little later my lovely wife came over and said, "Can I go get anybody a Coke, or a golf shirt, perhaps?"
Billy Casper frequently plays in a sweater in warm weather, I pointed out, rather testily.
"You're soaked under that thing," she said. "Yuk."
I'll tell you what else is making me hot, I said.