Ken and Buzz were on their 7th beer, or was it 17. It didn’t matter. They had been celebrating since 4:00 PM when the last twosome had come in and they found out their 14 under score was good for first place and the $1,000 purse. It was a one-day, better ball format and each of them had played well; 10 birdies, and two eagles. Their only scare was on a 180-yard par 3 when Ken sank a 7-foot putt to save par. They even wasted three birdies when they birdied the same hole. The second place team came in at –11.
Buzz was bragging on his eagle on the par 4, 8th hole, when his 6-iron took one bounce and slam dunked into the cup. “Did you see the expression on their faces when that went in?” Buzz was referring to the twosome they were paired with.
“The big guy wanted to quit right there,” said Ken. “I know they started off thinking they would beat us, but after four or five holes they got the message. That eagle took the wind out of them. A perfect example of the drive-for-show and putt-for-dough adage. They couldn’t put their irons close and made nothing longer than eight feet. What did they finish, minus 2 or 3?”
Buzz and Ken had become good friends over the last two years.
They were both good golfers, single with an appetite for life. This was the 3rd amateur tournament they had entered and their first win after two close seconds. When they weren’t golfing, they usually were doing something; horses, dogs, Jai Alai, sailing; you name it. Usually they had dates, but today the tournament was in Brooksville, 50 miles north of Tampa, and they were baching it.
It was after 6:00 PM and they were still at the club buying drinks for the 10 or 12 others that were still hanging around. “Let’s get out of here, Ken. I need some food and a little loving. Let’s see if there are any girls at Charands.”
“I’m ready. We could use a little break, anyway. My elbow is getting sore trying to keep up with you. Buzz, you are in one of your lets-get-drunk moods. Is there anything bugging you that you want to talk about?” Ken paid the bill and grabbed the car keys. It was a 40-minute ride to Charands.
“I’m fine, Ken, nothing that a little food and a good woman won’t cure.” The rest of the ride was friendly banter between two good friends that had both played great golf. The $1,000 was a bonus. Ken was bragging about his tap-in eagle on a 555-yard par 5.
Charands was a nice restaurant frequented by lawyers and businessmen; known for their steaks and the women that came in following the money. Few restaurants in Florida are formal, particularly if you eat in the bar. A clean shirt, birdbath and cologne made them new men. Not all the girls agreed, but a couple did and that’s all that mattered. The steaks were excellent and the girls were interesting, but around 11:00 Buzz started getting moody. Something was definitely bothering him.
“Let’s get out of here, Ken, and go to O’Brien’s for a nightcap. I need your advice on something.”
“Sure, buddy, why not? I’d much rather listen to you than sleep with one of these fine looking women,” Ken said facetiously, as the two girls they had been talking to came back from the powder room. Ken was only half kidding, but that’s what friends did for friends. The girls weren’t particularly happy either, but offered their phone numbers.
Dave stood over his tee shot and tried to relax. Buzz was right. The best thing he could do for Mary at this time was to play golf. She was safe as long as the match was close. He needed to give Chris and her friend time.
Ken and he had spoken many times about how to relax under pressure or stress. This was certainly one of those times. “Stick with your routine,” Dave heard him say. He took two deep breaths, checked his alignment, and concentrated on tempo. To his surprise, the ball flew straight and long, stopping only a few yards behind Buzz. They both were in great position.
The players walked to their drives and Bradford wondered again what had gotten into Buzz. His attitude had changed completely; he was going out of his way to be supportive. Did he somehow know about Mary being kidnapped?
You could throw a blanket over the two drives. Both players had about 250 yards to the green, which meant Dave’s drive had gone over 280 yards. The fairways were hard and there was a slight tail wind, but this still one of the longest drives he had ever hit.
“Nice drive, Dave. I didn’t think you could hit a ball that far. I guess there was a little anger behind that swing.” Dave glanced over at Buzz and nodded. Again, he was surprised at Buzz’ friendliness.
Bradford chose a 5-wood to take advantage of the tailwind. He figured a high 5-wood might have a chance of reaching the green. He knew the key to hitting his 5-wood was not to overswing. It worked. He caught the ball crisply and the wind carried the ball to within 10 feet of the front edge. He had an excellent opportunity for birdie.
Buzz decided to go with his 3-iron to take advantage of the hard fairways. He made solid contact, but his draw carried the ball into the left, greenside bunker. With a back pin, he would have a hard time getting up and down for his birdie. Dave liked his position.
“You did what?” Ken shouted. “Are you nuts?” Buzz had just told him about the night he spent with Mary and Dave finding out about it. Ken couldn’t believe it. What a way to ruin a good buzz. He was instantly sober.
“Have you talked to Dave? Apologized; whatever it takes?”
“I’ve tried, but he isn’t listening. He barely acknowledges me at the club. I don’t blame him. I screwed up. It was just that one time, but I can’t blame him. I’m surprised he hasn’t said anything to you, like, stay away from that asshole.”
“He hasn’t said a word, but now that I know the story, I can see how he might be acting differently.” In fact, he seems to be paying more attention to Mary in the last couple months.
“Does anyone else know?”
“I don’t think so. I certainly haven’t told anybody. It’s not something I’m proud of. I had to tell someone, and you’re Dave’s best friend, Ken. I hope it doesn’t come between us. I know you and Dave are real close.”
“Don’t worry about us, Buzz. You’re too good a golf partner to let a little thing like screwing a good friend’s wife come between us. Seriously, Buzz, you screwed up big time and I’m glad you realize it. Someday you need to make it right with him, and Mary too, but it’s something that you can’t force. You’ll probably go to hell for it, but at least I’ll have a friend down there.”
“Thanks, Ken. One day I hope I can make it up to them."
Bradford had several options. He considered using a sand wedge and flying the ball to the pin, but instead, decided on a bump and run shot. He executed the shot perfectly. The ball landed on the front of the green and ran all the way back to the pin, leaving him a four-foot birdie putt.
Buzz had a good lie in the trap, but would have to get the ball up quickly. He opened the face of his sand wedge and cleared the lip easily, but like many long bunker shots, came up short. He still had15 feet left for his birdie.
Buzz took a long time lining up his putt, looking at it from all sides trying to find a break that wasn’t there. He finally got over his putt, took one practice swing and stroked his putt. It looked good until the last moment, before veering to the right and catching the lip of the cup. He tapped in for par.
Dave’s putt was four feet with a slight right to left break. He nailed it dead center and was one up again, with seven to play.
Chapter 12
Par 3 – 145 Yards
Ken Discovers Buzz’ Secret