Nick

LSJohn

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Aug 15, 2013
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From
monett missouri
Nick was an "independent operator." At least that's what he called himself; it covered the field from scuffler through booster, fence, B&E, and general purpose ne'er-do-well. He was a competent amateur golfer -- 80 shooter -- and an even better pool player who loved to play and gamble, always looking for an edge.

His "Club" was a 6350-yard, soft public course where a couple of dozen guys in his general skill range gathered almost daily to play various combinations of mostly best-ball "match-play" partner matches. Most of the crew would have multiple bets with several partners or against several other partnerships. The bets were typically $5 with automatic presses when one team was 2 holes down and another if it fell 3 holes down on each side. Maximum win or loss for each bet was $30.

I played there some, and typically would have 5 or 6 bets. Bruce was one of the fellows I became very friendly with, and we often partnered. I didn't know it at the time, but Bruce was a shortstop caliber pool player. (Still is --almost -- but he's 69 now and loves his cocktails.)

One day after the first 18, we were sitting around the clubhouse bullshitting with a half-dozen guys who were each trying to maneuver themselves into a 3rd-9 bet to their favor. These 3rd-nine bets were often considerably larger, ranging from $20-$50 with automatic presses, occasionally even more when they involved a ring in someone's nose.

Bruce and I wound up with a $25 bet against Nick and his partner, whom I don't remember. Off we went and Bruce and I ham-and-egged the opponents the first several holes. If I screwed up a hole, Bruce played it well, and vice-versa. After 4 or 5 holes we were 3 up and the second automatic press was on. If we managed to get ahead by one more hole we'd have a $75-apiece lead, on paper.

The next hole was the one I considered the hardest on the course. It ran due south so it was typically into the wind, and was a long par 4 with an elevated green. The score card called it a par 4, but 5 was pretty typical for most of the players. As I recall, three of us hit reasonably good drives before Nick, who had played terribly to that point, was to hit last. He hit a big hook and we lost sight of it when it rolled into the left tree-line, which was open enough to give him about a 50-50 chance of having a shot toward the green.

We rolled up in the fairway approximately straight across from where Nick's ball was likely to be in the tree-line. Bruce said, "I think we'd better take a look," meaning, to prevent an opportunity for Nick to move his ball if he needed to. When we got there we saw the ball was under the edge of a bush. Nick had no chance to play it... he'd have to take a penalty drop. We went back to our balls in the fairway.

Bruce and I were discussing our upcoming shots to be played after Nick, who was "away" hit. 3-iron, 4-wood, 3-wood? How's the breeze, etc. It seemed we talked quite a while, and finally looked over to see what Nick's hold-up was. He was nowhere to be seen. We called to his partner, who was sitting in the cart facing toward the green, "Where's Nick?" Partner hooked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing back to the tee. When we looked, we saw Nick walking toward the tee.

"Hey, Nick, what's up?" I yelled.

"I lost somethin'," he replied.

"What did you lose?" I hollered.

"My composure," came back. :rolleyes: :lol

He kept going, right past the tee and toward the clubhouse.

I made a few attempts to embarrass him into paying the $75 in the coming weeks, but finally gave up. He was apparently immune to embarrassment.
 
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