A Compact Eighteen (Okay, Okay Sixteen)-The Trials And Tribulations Of Sand-Bagger Johnson-Part Four

A Compact Eighteen (Okay, Okay Sixteen)-The Trials And Tribulations Of Sand-Bagger Johnson-Part Four  

Sand-Bagger Johnson was thinking to himself as he, Lucky Pierre and Zow were heading toward the dreaded first tee at Pine Pond Golf Course (not the real name of the course which has been redacted for legal reason-or literary license take your pick) that this Sunday was as brisk if not more so than that previous day. Today unlike yesterday though there was no foursome so today would be a round-robin of individual. Is round-robin the right way to say what they were about to do? (Not to rub it in, well, actually to rub it in, the previous day Zow and he had crushed the team of Pierre and lanky Casey who was out of action this day-some lame excuse about having to attend to family matters-whatever). Sand-Bagger noticed that unlike the day before neither Pierre nor Zow were intimidated by the fact that Big Emma, Sand-Bagger’s name for his number one metal wood which others call the driver for some unknown reason, was in his bag. He smiled the smile of the knowing that they would rue this day for underestimating that little darling.  

This three-some had played individual matches against each other over the previous couple of years so that other than settling handicaps (which I will not go into here as I have had space limitations dictated to me by certain unnamed parties) and wishing they had access to leader-board computers to figure out who was ahead and why the first couple of holes were played out uneventfully. The only problem was that the group in front of them was playing on the slow side which all agreed was not to their liking. Suddenly on the third tee seeing that there was nobody behind them Lucky Pierre came up with an idea, and idea to put some distance between themselves and the group in front. Why not play eighteen, or really sixteen holes. Or rather a compacted version of that number. Play two balls on each hole one from the blues as they had already started and then from the whites (the tees in front of the blues which made each hole shorter by some yards). Not an Einstein idea but a good one.

This new match set-up meant that rather than five dollar bets per man each man was liable for ten dollars. The set-up worked well except all agreed that some even some Stone Age Univac computer would have helped to figure out who won and why. Oh yeah, Sand-Bagger split his with Zow, and beat Pierre on both ends, Pierre beat Zow.

 

Summary for Casey-a Jefferson for Sand-Bagger from Pierre via Zow. Bring ‘em on.