Page 50 of Nobody's Fool

“Vine Ridge is up there with Augusta or Pine Valley or Merion or Winged Foot.”

“Okay,” I say again, though these words mean nothing to me.

“Wendy and I were both longtime members. In Wendy’s case, third-generation members. Well, sort of. Women can’t join. Her grandfather and father were members. So it’s the same thing, really. Me, I was a really good amateur golfer. Was on the team at Amherst College. That’s how Wendy and I met. So when we got married and joined as junior members, I was technically the member. Because only men can be members. You know what I’m saying?”

“I think so. A bit sexist.”

“Very sexist,” he says. “But Wendy didn’t care. She loved Vine Ridge. She grew up there, really. From the time she was a little girl, she spent summers there with her parents and grandparents and uncles and aunts, and you get the idea.”

“I do,” I say.

“Wendy and I, we’d have dinner at the club three or four times a week. Always with friends. Tables of six or eight. Lots of laughs and drinks. Wendy played in the women’s nine-hole group every Tuesday and tennis on Wednesdays. I was one of the best male players in the club. We knew everyone.”

Gary takes a breath now, makes a very labored left turn, hand over hand.

“Three years ago, I was playing for the club championship againstRichard Belthoff. This was the first time I had reached the finals. I lost two years in a row in the semis, once to Richard on a pretty controversial call. He hit his ball behind a tree and got a free drop because he claimed his ball was resting in a gopher hole. Can you believe that?”

I say, “No,” even though I’m not fully following.

Gary shakes it off. “Anyway, we were friends, Richard and me, but we were also super competitive. I’ll try to make this quick because it’s hard to talk about and you probably aren’t interested.”

“Oh, but I am.”

Gary smiles and shakes his head. “We are playing for the club championship. We reach the eighteenth hole. That’s the final hole. And we were tied. See, this was match play. You win, lose, or tie holes. I’d won four, he’d won four, and we tied the other nine. So it all came down to this final hole, a par three over the trees. It’s a signature hole because you can’t see the green from the tee.

“Anyway, here’s what it came down to. I teed off first. I hit what I thought was a great shot. But the trees hadn’t been trimmed because of a recent storm. So there was a branch still in the way. We heard my ball hit it solidly. I couldn’t believe it. I remember Richard trying not to smile. My heart sank, but then, when I thought about it, I still had hope. The ball could have still bounced into play, maybe landed in the sand trap or something. So we hurry down there. Richard’s ball had landed on the edge of the green, but it was still a hard two-putt. If I could find my ball and hit a decent chip, I’d be okay. Except I couldn’t find it. We all figure that it hit off the stupid branch, the one that shouldn’t have still been there, and bounced deep in the woods. If we didn’t find the ball within five minutes, I’d get a penalty stroke and the match would for all purposes be over. Richard Belthoff would have won. Looking back on it… I mean, who cares? You get your name on a wooden plaque in the Men’s Grill. Big deal. But, I don’t know, I just wanted to win so badly. Who knows why. I was still fuming about how last year Richard had cheated with the gopher hole story. So Ifigured this would even out the score. It wouldn’t make me the winner. If I got lucky, we’d still be tied after eighteen. Then we’d go to a sudden-death extra hole, and that would be fair, and I wouldn’t lose because of some flukey branch.”

“What did you do, Gary?”

“My golf ball is a Titleist Pro V with my initials GG written in red ink. I always do that. Write my initials in red. So you know it’s my ball. And of course, all golfers carry an extra ball or two in our pocket. So you don’t have to go back and hunt through your bag if you snap-hook one into the woods or lose one in the water.”

“Okay.”

“So when no one was looking, I took my extra ball out of my pocket and let it drop out of my hand behind the sand trap on the right.”

I nod. “And then, what, you said you found it?”

He smiles. “Oh no, that would look suspicious. I walked away, searched in the woods, pretending I’m a class act, being the gracious guy who suffered the bad luck of a bad bounce. Yep, that was me. The gracious guy. Everyone in the club liked me. So I moved away and hoped someone else would find my ball. And sure enough, Belthoff’s caddy, Manny, suddenly yells out, ‘Hey I found it.’ I actually closed my eyes when Manny calls that out. I almost hoped that no one would see it. I could still go back and change everything. But once I dropped the ball there…”

“So what happened next?”

“I act all surprised and relieved. Then I grab my sixty-degree, take two practice swings, and chip the ball onto the green. Not to brag, but I hit the chip of a lifetime. The shot leaves me with only a three-footer for par. By now everyone in the club is coming down from the overlook deck to watch the last hole. They have drinks in their hands. Wendy is there. Her father. Her uncle. I’d say forty or fifty of our friends. And now it’s Richard’s turn. He lines up his putt. Manny helps him with the read. If he makes it, he wins, but I mean, come on, he’slike thirty feet away. Chances are he will two-putt. That means I need to make my three-footer to force the playoff, a clean slate. We would then keep playing until a fair winner emerged. So Richard hits his long putt. It’s a really good stroke. The ball is tracking right to the hole but—whew—it stops inches short of rolling in. Like only three inches. The spectators do that golf groan and then politely clap for him. Then all eyes turn to me. I’m getting ready. I need to make this three-footer putt. Richard walks over to his ball to tap in his three-incher—”

He stops. Tears rush to his eyes.

“Gary?”

He shakes me off.

“What happened?”

He blinks hard. He looks as though he’s going to burst into sobs.

“It’s okay,” I say. “We can—”

“No,” he says a little too loudly. “I’ve never told this story to anyone. I need to get through it.”

I wait.

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