For Bettor or Worse
by Dumb Chip
It was a who's who of club respectability that morning. The Roosevelts, Carnegies, and Vanderbilts were filing in, en masse. Ok, perhaps that is a bit of an exaggeration, but those who had jobs far out numbered the dead beats that were hanging around the putting green looking for action. A quick count saw two club champs, an Irish legend, a respected lawyer and a legit website operator. Nothing bad could possibly happen on such a beautiful day, could it?
It was a simple wager. A no brainer, a lock, a Vegas surety, I couldn't lose. I should have run away from the situation, fast.
She was, by Poplar Creek standards, cute (breathing) and apparently felony free. Her spotless shoes, awkward girlish gait and short skirt gave her the look of an innocent mark. She challenged me to a putting contest for one dollar. Her putter still had the price tag on it for god's sake, what was a golf junkie to do, I accepted.
A pretty girl at the club is akin to blood in the water to the membership. They swarmed the area like hungry sharks in a feeding frenzy. They circled the putting green three deep. It was reminiscent of Sunday at the British, minus the bobbies and the yellow scoreboard. Soon, Big Al had side bets working. Biscuit was giving odds at 3-1 against and I began to sweat.
It was the uncomfortable seeing your father-in-law with a fist full of dollars at a strip bar kind of sweat. I was backed into a corner. Over the pro shop p.a., Jeremy reminded us that betting was illegal. He also laid down $20 on the girl.
I had to man up, didn't I? With a bit of egging on, I confidently said I would cover all bets. I guess, humility is as fleeting as fame and common sense. So with a bit of a swagger, I doubled the bet. Ouch!
I told myself I could handle a big crowd, large bets and a pretty girl. I could actually win this thing and breathe again. Let the reindeer games begin. I never imagined, nor could I ever have expected, what was about to transpire. Never!
She had the same bent over putting style as Michele Wie. The crowd went wild. Steve Young, Joe Montana or even John Holmes on a movie set never experienced a roar like the one which echoed throughout San Mateo that day. Bedlam reigned. Needless to say, I lost to the fairer sex. She was last seen dancing into a Brink's truck with Big Al. I was hung down in defeat and thoroughly deflated. The membership was so invigorated by the event, they forgave all of my loses on the condition of a rematch next week.
Odds are 2-1 against, call Mike Love to place any wagers.