He was standing by the first tee at the storied Port Royal Golf Club on the western edge of the impossibly gorgeous island of Bermuda, tattered golf shirt faded into an unidentifiable shade of vermilion.\u00a0 His polyester doubleknit pants had once been white but had fallen victim to excess bleaching.\u00a0 Too many golf balls strained at the pocket seams that barely held aging material together.\u00a0 His golf shoes looked like something in which a swamp monster would consider himself to be quite nattily attired.\u00a0 But that smile!\u00a0 Teeth clenched in a grimace posed as a grin, porkpie hat positioned pertly on top of hairless head.<\/p>\n
Having played public course golf for many years and knowing you can sometimes be paired up with anyone, my instincts went into overdrive.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy goodness, Bernie,\u201d I anxiously said to the starter, \u201cWho is that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Bernie, originally from Tennessee, matched those roots with an original sense of Southern humor.\u00a0 He\u2019d been at this golf course for more years than I\u2019ve been playing.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat,\u201d he smirked, \u201cis your fourth.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked aghast as \u2018my fourth\u2019 was taking some practice swings.\u00a0 Oh no.\u00a0 They were worse than his outfit.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is going to be a long day, Bernie,\u201d I sighed.<\/p>\n
\u201cHeh heh heh,\u201d he chortled, \u201cwait\u2019ll you see his wife.\u00a0 She\u2019s your third!\u201d<\/p>\n
Finding a sweet-smelling Bermuda cedar, I sat beneath the cool shade and calm moment it provided, arms slung around my knees.\u00a0 I figured this would be my last chance for serenity all day.\u00a0 My mind dozed, and I slowly began to recall playing partners I have known\u2026\u2026.<\/p>\n
What is it about golf that can transform angels into heathens, princesses into witches, and ordinary people into vampires?\u00a0 We all know them;\u00a0 we\u2019ve all played with them, but I\u2019m convinced they don\u2019t know who and what they are.<\/p>\n
One USGA national championship I played in almost two dozen years ago found me paired with a duo of complete opposites, yet two of the most annoying women I\u2019d ever met.\u00a0 One was the darling of the high school set and the other was certainly a model for rodeo-bound Brahma bulls.<\/p>\n
On the first tee, the Prima Donna announced, \u2018My name is Mau-ree-see-a, and I don\u2019t<\/em> like Marie for short, so don\u2019t expect me to answer if you call me that.\u00a0 I am up first, so if you\u2019ll remove yourselves from the tee box, I\u2019ll hit.\u201d<\/p>\n She promptly sliced one into the woods and curtsied, certainly not happy but trying to maintain decorum.\u00a0 How fitting.<\/p>\n Next up was Brahma Bull and she didn\u2019t even bother to tell us her name.\u00a0 Maybe we were better off.\u00a0 She grunted a few times and hit her shot down the middle.\u00a0 \u201cOh, that was just awful,\u201d she snorted, then stomped and grunted a few more times.\u00a0 I half expected her to charge down the fairway straight for the red flag on No. 1 green.\u00a0 She didn\u2019t\u2026\u2026.at least not yet.<\/p>\n The rest of the day didn\u2019t get much better.\u00a0 My comments of \u2018nice shot\u2019, \u2018well done, or \u2018good swing\u2019 only evoked tirades of whining, wheezing, and insistence that I didn\u2019t know of which I spoke.\u00a0 Of course the fact that I was playing decently did not elicit one word of praise from them.<\/p>\n On the narrow 18th<\/sup> hole, Bull duck-hooked one left.\u00a0 The spotter had been on the right and dashed over to find the ball.\u00a0 Bull then hit a provisional ball\u2026\u2026you guessed it \u2013 dead right.\u00a0 The spotter did her waterbug dance back to the right again.\u00a0 Well, you can figure out the result when Brahma lost both golf balls and proceeded to chew out the spotter for not being in both places at once.\u00a0 And why not?\u00a0 Surely a presence as great as a B. Bull should evoke such reverence.<\/p>\n I might add that during the search for B.B.\u2019s golf balls, the Prima Donna stood still, poised in the middle of the fairway.\u00a0 In reply to my quizzical look, she said, \u201cWell, you can\u2019t expect me to look for balls in those weeds.\u00a0 I might soil my clothes or get dirty or sweat or something like that.\u00a0 My hair could even be mussed.\u00a0 And then what???\u201d<\/p>\n We finished the hole and headed for the scorer\u2019s tent.\u00a0 It is traditional to wish your playing partners well and tell them how much you enjoyed the round;\u00a0 but with golfers from Hell one should simply state: \u2018I can\u2019t remember when I\u2019ve enjoyed a round of golf\u2026..less,\u201d tip your visor politely, then leave.\u00a0 They never quite figure out what you\u2019ve said until after you\u2019re gone.<\/p>\n \u201cYOU there.\u00a0 Young woman!\u201d<\/p>\n I was jolted out of my reverie \u2013 or was it a bad dream about to eclipse into a nightmare?<\/p>\n \u201cAre you talking to me?\u201d I asked, innocently.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I\u2019m not talking to the tree, obviously.\u201d she snapped, recreating the St. Valentine\u2019s Day massacre out of my name.\u00a0 \u201cWhatever.\u00a0 Well, you\u2019re playing with George and me.\u00a0 I\u2019m Mrs. <\/em>Baddle and we\u2019re next on tee.\u00a0 Hop to it!\u201d<\/p>\n Mrs. Baddle?\u00a0 More like Baddle-axe<\/em> I would presume.<\/p>\n Deciding\u00a0I could no longer\u00a0hold out and leaving\u00a0the welcoming shelter of my tree, I\u00a0delivered myself up to the purgatory from which there is no escape: golfing with partners from Hell.<\/p>\n Back in the 80’s, the U.S.G.A. recommended that three expert players should take no more than 4 hours and 3 minutes to play a round of golf under championship conditions.\u00a0 What they don\u2019t specify is how long one should endure a round of golf with three un-expert players under unbearable conditions.<\/p>\n Mrs. Baddle must have picked her 36-handicap out of the N-row of Bingo.\u00a0 George Baddle was actually a much better player than he looked: a passable 18 handicap provided you ignored his swing and his stretching the Rules of Golf.\u00a0 But of course, he didn\u2019t have a chance.\u00a0 From the moment we teed off until the last shot was in the cup \u2013 some 5 hours, 46 minutes and 24 seconds later (13 nano-seconds if you\u2019re counting), she never let up.<\/p>\n \u201cGeorge, stop chewing your gum, I can hear you\u2026..George, don\u2019t stand there, I can see you when I putt!!\u201d (George was standing by the ball washer on the next tee)\u2026\u201dGeorge!!!\u00a0 How could you hit such an ugly shot?\u201d\u00a0 George\u2019s reply to this rapid fire annihilation?\u00a0 Not a word.\u00a0 He just kept wearing his grin.\u00a0 Now I understand why he\u2019s perfected it so.<\/p>\n Don\u2019t ask me how my one under par score was achieved\u00a0for the day; and don\u2019t inquire about the remaining person in our foursome.\u00a0 He left after three holes mumbling something about being late for his root canal surgery the next day.<\/p>\n One thing you might ask is whether or not Bernie the starter was anywhere to be found after our game.\u00a0\u00a0 Would you have been?\u00a0 Unfortunately for Bernie, Mrs. Baddle did<\/em> find him hiding near the practice tee behind the Porta-Potty, looking very much on the lam \u2013 and with good reason.\u00a0\u00a0 Mrs. Baddle wanted his hide, but I couldn\u2019t figure out why.<\/p>\n \u201cHow could you have done this?\u00a0 We\u2019ve played here all these years and what do you do?\u00a0 Embarrass me by putting Miss Perfect in my group.\u00a0 Down the middle, on the green, two putts\u2026\u2026how dare <\/em>you?\u00a0 And so polite\u2026\u2026she was sickening.\u00a0 It was like\u2026..like\u2026.golfing in Hell!!!\u201d<\/p>\n She whirled around and trudged out of sight, taking her vengeance out on the furry dandelions dotting the practice field and leaving a trail of fuzz in her wake.<\/p>\n Only then did Bernie catch my dumbfounded stare.<\/p>\n \u201cWith some folks, ya just never know.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0 He gave me a devilish wink and added, \u201cEveryone\u2019s got their own idea of Hell, I reckon.\u201d<\/p>\n