Author: Tim Andersen

A Look Into The Future
By Chip the Seer
 
With the aid of a Ouija board and my trusty magic eight ball, I will make some rather bold predictions for and of the PCGC membership in 2015.

Bill Feeley, after a lengthy negotiation session and three of Mel's margaritas will decide to take the head coaching with the Niners.  He will also ask for every other Sunday off after he takes a look at their schedule.

Craig Walsh will take the Raiders job only because Billy F has to give him three a side.  "It's a no brainer, said C-Dub, In this league always take the points!"

Steve-O will continue to praise the game of Cabo Nick after each fleecing at the muni.

Big Al and Sonic Sid will launch their self improvement website, 'The keys to better gambling'.

Blue Moon Retainer and I will sit at the bar, on the bubble, awaiting the outcome of match play qualifying. If we have had less than three beers , we're in, over four, call us a cab.

Randy G. will ask Mel the big question, "Can I please have a lime with my Corona?"

John Jurgins will forget which of his Tuesday ladies he has a date with.  He will take the whole foursome to lunch to be safe.

Mike Love will run  unopposed for president without being told.

Dennis K will come off handicap probation.

The Giants will finish third, the Warriors second and a California horse will win the Derby.  No one will remember or care where the A's finish.  

Mr. Marco will lead the Carlmont JV softball team to the title.  He will then demand the school buy uniforms worthy of champions.

Bryan U., Swinging Mr. Stevens and a dark horse, noted Irishman Ross Madigan will win PCGC majors.

My book, 'There Is No Off Switch To Genius' will be "thee" Christmas gift for 2015.

Drink prices will go up with the new management

Secret Santa
by Chip Undercover

Earlier this month, I was taking the air with the big guy himself, Santa Claus, on the veranda of a South Beach nightclub.  He comes here for a week or so before the busy season to relax, pump pina coladas (they match his beard), and guess which girls on the dance floor are naughty or nice.

We stood, overlooking the gyrating action below us, when it occurred to me, Santa has the best intelligence network in the world.  Forget about the CIA, the Mossad, MI6, and Kmart, they are no match for the big fella.  Santa knows all the players, where they are and when they are sleeping.  I then noticed six little men with sunglasses, ear buds, and funny shoes scanning the crowd.  They are the Elf Elite, cute, cuddly and lethal, he said.  Chubby, who would want to hurt you, the Easter Bunny?  He gave out a belly laugh, he really does this, and said no, Harvey’s ok.  My guys keep the paparazzi, Moonies and Democrats away.

My wife, now she knows security and never forgets a thing.  She is still raw with me about the time I delivered swim suits to the Rockettes dressing room in ’66.  They were so grateful that they tried them on for me, the little darlings.

We continued the night sipping Bullet Rye, he prefers this to milk and cookies, talking flight schedules, no fly zones, and international customs agents.  Somewhere into the second bottle, a gift from a hopeful manager, we began discussing the PCGC membership and what was on their secret wish lists.

He said it was mostly the typical stuff like Sonic Sid seeking more club head speed, Cabo Nick asking for Mexican Immunity, and Big Al looking for replacement loaded dice.  Stuff like that.  I pored him some more rye and asked him about the more difficult requests to fill. After a nice pull from his tumbler he said, of course Chip, with this crew there will always be tough wishes to grant.  For example, John Jurgins and Bryan U. both asked for Miss October.  Several members asked Saturdays to be extended to spend more time with Mel.  Blue Moon wants the holes to be larger, while Mr. Marco wants worldwide color coordination.  Billy F. wants a red wagon and 300 yard drives.

You know I can’t break laws other than gravity and physics.  It just isn’t right.  How do you do it, I asked.  All of that pressure, time commitments, Elves unions, hunters, PETA pulling you in a different direction.  You are amazing Chubs, amazing.  He smiled, tapped the bottle of rye, winked and walked off with his lovely assistant.  I smiled too, knowing I now had something on the big guy.  

It’s going to be a happy holiday season indeed.

Merry Chipmas

Chip, The Series
by Star Chip

The ref signaled for a thirty second TV timeout, sports most exciting two minutes, as I resumed my game day routine. I was working the nape of her neck south, southwest of the lobe  when it happened.  Easy, fellas, this is a family column.  I heard the first note of "Jail House Rock", the familiar ring tone of my attorney, Blue Moon Retainer.

My almost imperceptible hesitation, was enough to turn her romantic green light into a flashing red.  On the second ring, just as my front door was slamming shut, I answered the phone.  I then asked this question.  "Moon, is it civil or is it criminal?"  He said, whoa Chip, it's the Golf Channel and they want to talk.  Good God, the Golf Channel, is it copy write infringement or is it Arnie Abuse?  No, he said, it was not a legal matter.  In fact, their people want to talk to our people about doing a television series.

The television show is a good idea Moon, but do you think meeting our people is?  Golf Channel wants to do something unusual, edgy and on the fringe of the game.  They have done some research and our names keep popping up.

Oh, I see.  You know, "The Fringe" would be a clever name for the show.  We could have weekly segments from the boys on their personal areas of expertise.  It could be filmed from the bar with a live audience.  (Editors note: 7 second delay for beeping purposes might be a good idea.)

Big Al could talk about Blue Lights and liars dice.  Doug "Air Marshall" Canovas could handle all travel related questions.  John Jurgins with the Big Cat acting as his ears, will answer audience inquiries regarding cart girl etiquette.  Mr. Marco will tackle fashion while Billy F talks.  It will be the first show that talks about the fringe areas of golf without talking about golf.  The inner game played after the game.

Moon, don't you think Mel's Mixology Corner would be the perfect spot for guest stars.  People like Sean Connery, Charles Barkley, Justin Timberlake and John Daly.  Stars we have seen around golf courses, but don't really play.  Plus star power brings chicks to the audience, and that's good television.  Don't believe me, just watch a re-run of Star Trek.

Of course, smoking jackets will be required.

The Meaning of Golf
by Chip Monk

I was recently immersed in a spiritual quest for the meaning of golf.  A personal hadj for a lower handicap and golf enlightenment.  This sojourn to cleanse my game of impure swing thoughts, day dreams of cart girls, and half wedge shanks, took place at Olympic's Lake Course.  This, the Mount Parnassus of golf courses, was the site of my clarity.

My journey of less strokes began like it must, with inner calm and an all star foursome. Randy G, Blue Moon Retainer, and Fred "Where have you been" Chiappe made up the group.  It was a Zen meets Poplar Creek, Bonnie meets Clyde golf awakening.  We played the round with an intense casualness rivaled only by Don Delbon's cool and Geoff Kuchlenz's hair. It was Nirvana.

As I trekked up the hill to the clubhouse it hit me.  I was no where closer to the meaning of golf then when I started.  What was this game all about?  Was golf about having fun, gambling or maybe the struggle?  I was flummoxed.  What was I missing?

Golf should be fun and perfection unobtainable, right?  I pondered this long and hard. My reverie was interrupted only by the waiter handing me a rather sizeable bar tab. I overtipped, signed Keith Gonsalves' name, I am not a member, and looked down upon the 18th green. There is was, written in the sand, the answer to the mysterious grip golf holds on all of us.  In plain sight, for all to see, the bunkers spell out I.O.U.