You could probably say that the crowd was fairly large around the 1st tee, most of them there to see Glay-yun. We stood around for a little bit, posed for pictures and waited for the P.A. to announce our pairing. Donna Caponi came over and said, "You and Glen both have eight strokes. We've got a chance to win this today. We'll just play loose and see what happens."
I told Donna that the tournament itself was the most important thing, where she was concerned. We'd try not to bother her, me and Glen, I said.
"Listen, we're going to have fun," she smiled.
Donna teed off first and whipped it about 240 down the middle with a pretty solid swing, and it suddenly dawned on me that she was, after all, the U.S. Women's Open champion of the past two years.
Glen Campbell stepped up next and flogged it about 260 down the middle with a very good swing, and I wondered where in the hell that came from.
I don't recall a great deal of applause when I was announced on the tee, but I do remember teeing up the ball, backing away for a practice swing and seeing my wife over behind the ropes. She was trying to tell me something in a whisper, hoping I could read her lips. Which I could. She was saying: "Take...off...the...dumb...sweater...Dummy."
That didn't bother me, however. I opened up with the tee shot I always open up with—a howling slice which, when last charted, was headed so far out of bounds that Glen Campbell said, "Fore on The Strip."
The provisional drive I hit was the same old second effort, a boring hook that hammered its way into the nearest fairway bunker.
"That completes our clinic, folks," Campbell said. And we were off.
It wasn't the most comfortable triple-bogey 8 I've ever made because, by notable contrast, Campbell put a spoon up near the green in two and had a couple of leisurely putts for a birdie. Donna raced over and kissed him.