I’ve mentioned my father –Shug. His real name was Eddie. Dad was the best real estate salesman in the world being very observant and intuitive. Once he told me that when a potential home buyer would shake the change is his pocket, they wanted that particular house but that the price was a little high – but a definite buying sign. I bet he had 50 of those little tips.
And he loved golf or should I say he loved betting when playing golf. He was a lousy bettor and would lose much more than win. Another nickname was Fish, as in I’m reeling him in like a……
His home course was a classic Donald Ross design in Salisbury, NC. Many golfers regard the front 9 as perhaps the best 9 holes of golf in the state. Number 4, a par 4, was a toughie: you drove onto a plateau and then approached a plateaued green surrounded by the Gobi Desert – huge traps. I can remember parring that hole just once in 10 years of play. To the right were woods thicker than the Amazon jungle. On the left were houses. One home hosted Byron Nelson during a severe thunderstorm in the middle of a clinic/round.
Dad had a beast of a slice. This day he under compensated and landed in the forest to the right. As he stepped from the cart into the jungle he felt a sting and then another and then another and then many. He had stepped on a yellow jacket nest and they were highly pissed! 20 or 30 of them buzzed up his pant leg! The screaming and yelling and cussing could be heard for miles!
“What’s wrong with Eddie?” quizzed a playing partner. Trying to extricate himself from the swarm Dad yanked off his golf shoes and then, yes, his long pants – jumping and tripping and spinning! Down the fairway he ran in his boxers still swatting and hollering. After a hundred yards he finally stopped to examine the damage: 27 stings! Some stings in very sensitive places. Needless to say his round ended at that point! His playing partner dashed him to clubhouse where he was covered in that old yellow, sticky Clover salve.
Watch your step linksters!
Fairway Follies, Joe Hinson 