Several weeks before an annual match play golf tournament I began joking with Fred (name changed to protect the guilty) by telling him I was going to get in the same flight with him and win the flight. In those days (1956) when you entered a tournament you had to play a qualifying round to determine what flight you would be in. Fred had the dubious distinction of qualifying with a much higher score than he normally shot and thus could easily win his flight in match play.
Actually I had no desire to be in the same flight with Fred because I thought he was a better golfer than me. Fred's problem was that he had the same opinion of me. On qualifying day I shot one of the best rounds I ever had up until then. Fred qualified with his usual inflated score and he and I were now in the same flight!
Fred had a fancy custom made motorized golf cart to ride in when all others had to walk, but when time came for us to tee off his cart's motor wouldn't start and he had to walk too! At the end of nine holes I had him four-down, but his cart had been fixed and he started riding. Think he offered to let me ride? No way.
Now Fred was a great big strong guy who if his ball was in a bad spot he would just dig a big divot behind the ball on his backswing thus leaving the ball very nicely teed up. By the time we got to the par three eighteenth hole I was one down! This was a slightly bad position to be in because it meant I had to win the hole just to keep from losing the match.
Ole Fred hit his tee shot and that dang ball stopped about three feet from the hole. And I had never even hit that green from that tee before. I didn't exactly give up, but I also didn't make any plans for a victory celebration either. This time my tee shot stopped on the green, but about twenty feet from the hole. There were more hills and valleys between my ball and the hole than there are in the state of Colorado.
I told Fred to go ahead and putt out. I knew that he would surely make a birdie and my chances of doing the same were worse than slim. Fred missed his birdie putt by about an inch however and now I still needed a miracle just to stay in the match. As I was getting ready to putt, Fred sat down in his golf cart, started taking off his golf shoes. His wife came running over to him with a cold beer. Now that didn't make me a bit angry, but I did have a few unkind thoughts running thru my head. I finally putted the ball, closed my eyes and prayed. After what seemed like minutes I hear the sweetest sound in the world. It was a 'ker-plunk'. I opened my eyes and couldn't see my ball. It was in the hole!
On the first play-off hole I hit my normal mediocre tee shot but was in the fairway. Fred hit his usual shot past mine and he was in the fairway too. I hit my second shot and the ball went somewhere in the direction of the green, but not on it. Fred hit his second shot out of bounds, dropped another ball. The second ball went out of bounds too. Then Fred threw his club out of bounds! I had won the match!
My prize for winning was a complete set of nice golf clubs that they let me exchange for a ladies set for my wife Bobbye. Because everybody was so happy to see that Fred got what he deserved, I got more congratulations than Jack Nicklaus ever did when he won one of the US Opens. Fred's boss was so happy he even bought a golf bag for Bobbye. Not only beat ole Fred, but got me a real good golfing partner!
There's more to this Fred story, but think I will keep you in suspense till next time.
Fred was not what you would call a gracious loser. He came up to me and said something like "I can beat you anytime anywhere". Still feeling pretty cocky I said, "Fine. Come on down to my club and we'll find out." And to top it off we agreed on a 'little' wager.
A couple of weeks later Fred came to my club and of course, towing his fancy golf cart with him. This time he actually let me ride with him! I think the weather gods were laughing at us because just when we teed off up came a good ole west Texas sandstorm. Then on the second hole it began raining. On the third hole we had a nice hailstorm. But I was having the time of my life because I had beat Fred on all three holes. Fred was more than a little disgusted and said, "To hell with this. Lets go to the clubhouse! We did. And I never heard another word from Fred after that day.