This story is my first submission. If you don't like the game of golf, be warned...
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I stood on the tee box looking out across the 1st fairway, wondering where everyone else was on such a beautiful afternoon. High stratus clouds pulled long and wispy, a steady breeze, 72 degrees and low humidity. The many shades of green painted against the deep blue horizon looked crisp and brighter than usual. Hoping for an opening (I didn't have a tee time), I had anticipated a long wait even though it was a weekday. But the parking lot was dotted with just a handful of cars. What a pleasant surprise to have the starter say, 'The tee is yours! Hit 'em straight.' This will be a great afternoon!
When I play alone, I play two balls, especially on a low traffic day like this. The luxury of enjoying my own pace of play adds to the day's enjoyment. I keep score on the first ball (for my handicap, 11) and mark down the second for comparison. You get the picture, yeah?
I was playing very well - definitely above average. Through the 7th hole, I was 1 over with 2 birdies and 1 bogey. (and parred the second ball on that bogey hole) I was 'in the zone', playing as I imagined I would were I a scratch golfer. I was tempted to call one of my weekend golfing pals and brag a bit, but why jinx it? Balls seemed to explode off the club face with little effort. I'd reached 6 greens in regulation. My usual 25 foot target radius for approach shots seemed to magically shrink to 15 feet. And putting was, well, easy.
Pretty darn good for an overweight middle-aged guy. I'm from Irish heritage, 5' 11" 205 lbs., thinning blonde hair, trimmed goatee. My wife says my legs are my best feature, well-shaped and smooth. I've been called handsome - I'll take the compliment. And a golf lover - I would play every day if my employment as an IT manager didn't take priority. (My wife of 31 years would probably notice the lack of income) Before we'd met, I'd dated quite a few girls, and discretely fooled around a bit with a few guys, nothing serious. It was curiosity and fun, and I shelved that hidden part of my life once we were hitched. Over the years, the urge to fulfill my bisexual desires disappeared.
I teed off on the 374 yard 8th hole, a dogleg left with tall pines about 190 yards out protecting the left corner. This was a wide fairway with lots of space to bail out right, but that leaves a longer second shot to the medium sized, well bunkered green about 20 feet below the fairway. I hit the driver on my first ball, landing left center and rolling out to the far side of the fairway just short of the rough and cart path, about 245 yards.
Now - let's see if I can turn the corner with my second ball, hitting the 3 iron from the shorter white tees.
Greedy me - I guess you know what happened next. Not quite a duck-hook, but my ball sailed into the pine boughs near the top of the tallest tree. I heard it hit something but didn't see the ball drop. That'll teach me.
I rode down the fairway, turned left past the trees on the corner and parked in the pine straw. There's a collection spot behind the pines, a drainage gulley. Carrying my 8 iron just in case, I began looking for ball number 2. No luck - it probably ricocheted into the dense stuff. Oh well, I still have ball 1 in play.
As I started my cart back across the fairway, I glanced to my left - bingo! There's my ball, about 15 yards ahead in the rough! I drove to it with a chance to get two balls on the green.
As I'm lining up the shot, I hear the sound of someone teeing off behind me. I couldn't see the tee from my position. I backed off a few seconds and heard the ball land in the fairway about 30 yards down. Dead center. Wow, nice shot around the trees! I took a few seconds to get my shot aligned then hit it about 15 feet past the hole.
It was obvious that the guy on the tee couldn't see me around the corner, so no harm, no foul. I was driving across to my first ball as he was coming up the fairway. I waited for him to approach but he stopped about 50 yards short, got out of his cart and yelled, "Sorry about that. Didn't see ya."
"No problem." I waved him up.
He arrived as I was getting set to hit, sitting quietly in his cart. My wedge stopped about 10 feet below the hole, just past the apron. "Nice shot!"
I replied, "Thanks. Hey, no worries on your drive. I know you couldn't see me. And THAT was a great drive!" I said, pointing to his ball.
"Thanks! You want to play together?" he asked. Darn. He didn't realize I'm taking my time, playing two balls. And based on his drive, I'm thinking he's probably a lot better than me. But on the golf course, I'm a social liberal. "Sure. I've been playing two balls, but that's ok."
"I don't want to ruin your party, man..." he smiled. "How're ya hitting 'em?"
Ah, a chance to brag about my round! "I'm playin' way over my head. It's such an awesome day out here, and I'm kinda in the zone, you know?"
"You sure it's ok?" He looked like he was hoping I'd agree. I smiled.
"Yeah, it'll be fun. I'm Brian." He extended his hand, "Jack. Nice to meet you, bud." He seemed nice enough and, strangely, kinda looked like me - over 50, same height and nice face, goatee, slightly heavier than me. We were even dressed alike, white on top, dark blue shorts. "OK, you're up", I said. "Hit a good one!"
He swept a beautiful wedge shot to about 7 feet, stopping on a dime. As we drove up, I said, "Nice! Someone's looking at a birdie!" He noticed my two balls on the green and chuckled. "So are you!"
As I leaned over to pick up my second ball, he stopped me. "No, go ahead and putt it. You earned it."
"Thanks, Jack." Nice guy. I rolled my second ball a foot past the hole, and my first ball stopped on the edge, almost teetering in. I made both for pars, keeping the great round going!
Jack made his birdie. "Good putt! How's your round going so far?" I asked.
He grinned. "Well, I'm doing great - I'm 1 over through eight, a lot better than my usual."
I laughed. "Really? I'm 1 over with my first ball, and that's way better than my 11 handicap."
Jack smiled. "I'm an 11 too. Let's make a match of it!" While I'm not inclined to gamble when I'm certain I'll lose, his handicap made it a friendly match that seemed harmless. "OK," I said, "let's play the 9th for a drink on the turn, and figure something out for the back 9."
I failed to get up and down from the beach on the 9th hole, and Jack holed his 10 footer for par. Not a good start. We headed for the clubhouse, and Jack insisted on buying. "How about a beer?" It wasn't too hot out and I had no place to be after, so I agreed.
"Great," he said, "I'll get it. You turn in your cart and we'll ride together." Sure, makes sense. Again, he flashes that big grin.
I strapped my bag to his cart then ran my cart to the shed. In the back of my mind, I thought that meeting Jack just made the day a little better. He was friendly, seemed like minded, and hey, we're golfing. Beats working!
Jack picked me up and we headed to the 10th tee. "Grab your beer, it's in the back." I look over my shoulder at a small soft-side cooler filling the cart basket. I unzipped the lid to find it packed with ice and at least a six-pack, maybe more. Uh oh, there's no way I can handle more than a couple.
"Jack, I appreciate the beers, man, but I need to be careful. And I don't want to ruin this great round I'm having."
"No worries, man. Let's just have fun and enjoy the day." OK, I can get behind that! "By the way..." He points to the front of the cart. "I figured you might be hungry, too." He'd picked up a hot dog with mustard and relish, my favorite.
"How could you possibly know I like my dogs this way?" Now I was grinning.
"I didn't, but I figured I'd get it the way I like it and if you didn't eat it, I would!" We both laughed out loud as we headed to the 10th tee box. I'm beginning to feel something, maybe a bond? I'm very slow to make friends, so it was, at least, unusual for me. We took a couple of minutes to pop open a beer and inhale the dogs.
The back nine on this course heads out into the woods, with more undulations and tighter fairways. It's laid out for future development so there's a lot of untouched forest separating the holes that run 5 outbound, 4 inward. Many of the holes are canyon-like with the dense trees surrounding them. This creates some beautiful settings, with picturesque greens set against the darker woods behind.
We played the 10th hole even par, but I had to scramble. As we approached the 11th hole, Jack reminded me about our match. "Slipped my mind," I lied. "What're we playing for?"
"Well," he said, drumming his fingers on the cart's steering wheel, "I bought the beer and hot dogs, but that was my treat. What do you want to play for? We gotta do something to keep it interesting!" He said that in a sly way, and when I turned to him, he winked at me.
He winked at me? Could he possibly know? I'd always been extremely careful not to show my buried inclinations, and had not had a man to man experience since before my marriage. No, he couldn't know. There's no way! But maybe HE was so inclined and was just taking a shot in the dark. Wait, maybe that's what I was feeling a few minutes ago - his vibe? Could it be?
I needed time to think. "Let's play this hole and give it some thought." I hoped I'd said that without any hint of interest in what I supposed his plan might be. Jack replied, "No worries, bud."
The 11th hole is a beautiful par 5, 530 yards straight away. Jack hit a low roping beauty about 260 down the left side. I followed with a shorter, loftier ball that floated down the center about 10 yards behind his. As we drove down the fairway, he slapped my thigh. "Great shot!"
"Thanks, you too..." I mumbled. OK, was I reading too much into this? This is crazy. I had to concentrate. In spite of the 'vibe' I perceived from him, I wanted to keep my game together.
I decided to lay up by hitting an easy 6 iron about 175 yards, leaving me a long wedge shot to the green. At least, that was the plan.
I topped the ball with just enough on it to advance about 125 yards. Damn it! Where the fuck did that come from?
