by Jack Waddell
Billy was first to play and sent his iron shot safely onto the green. As Conor teed his ball for his shot he tried to shift his mind onto his game. But he wasn't quite back in the moment as he swung. He pulled his ball left into the deep greenside bunker as a few soft groans escaped from the gallery.
Annie gave her own inward groan. She crept slowly down along the line of the hedge to get a better view of his next shot as Parker and Skipper played their approaches, both coming up just short of the green. Conor was away and first to hit his second shot. Annie watched as he twisted his feet into the sand and then made a long steep swing sending a shower of sand out before him and onto the green. She saw the ball come out just behind the main spray of sand and alight on the green. It began to roll down a slope bending to the right toward the hole. With its last possible rotation it toppled into the cup. A cheer burst out from the crowd as Annie cried out "Oh my!" then quickly covered her mouth with her hands.
Despite the crowd noise Conor thought he heard something and glanced toward the hedge. Seeing nothing there he lifted his arm to the crowd as he smoothed the sand with his foot. As he walked onto the green to retrieve his ball from the hole Billy came up to him and slapped him on the back. "Nice going, fella!" he shouted as the applause from the gallery continued. "Let's make a move on them now!"
Conor smiled and stepped off to the side of the green with Billy as Parker and Skipper hit their chips. Neither could hole it to match Conor's birdie and thus the two teams were tied for the lead with four holes left to play.
As they moved to the next tee Annie slipped out from behind the hedge and quietly joined the back of the gallery as it moved along behind the players. She kept an eye out for Meg and her family. She did not want to be recognized.
* * *
All four players parred the next hole, a short par four. On the sixteenth, Conor was able to reach the par five in two shots. His two-putt birdie gave the team a one stroke advantage with two holes to play. It gave the crowd a reason to cheer, Annie among them. And it gave Billy a case of the nerves. They were so close to winning Billy could barely contain his excitement. And that cost him on the next tee. He sprayed his drive far to the right and into the arroyo marked as a water hazard. He would be hitting three off the tee on the par four hole.
Knowing he had to carry the hole himself, Conor took extra time with his tee shot. He intended to hit a small draw around the dogleg left to leave a shorter shot into the green and a safe par. But whether it was watching Billy hit his drive so far right or just a lapse in his swing, Conor also pushed the ball right near the hazard.
Billy's second drive found the middle of the fairway. After walking to his ball he went over to where Conor and Stovepipe were looking at the situation. The ball lay just inside the hazard line, but not in water. A stone about the size of a lemon lay about six inches behind the ball. To hit the shot Conor would have to put his right foot in the water. But the lie itself was good and the shot looked not all that difficult.
"Don't get those new shoes wet!" Billy tried to joke.
Conor smiled and leaned on Stovepipe as he took off his right shoe and sock and rolled up his pant leg. He stood outside the hazard and made three practice swings trying to gauge where in his stance he should position the ball. Finally he was ready. He put his foot into the water. He started his backswing. But as he did so his club brushed the stone behind the ball and it rolled backward an inch. He jerked his swing to a stop halfway back.
Still standing with his foot in the water, hands on hips holding his club, Conor swore, "Damn! I moved that rock. 'Tis a two shot penalty."
"What are you talking about? It doesn't matter! The shot's still the same. Besides nobody saw it," Billy said in something of a panic.
"No, 'tis a penalty. Can't be moving anything like that in a hazard. I'm to be hitting four."
"That's crazy! We need you on this hole!"
"No, 'tis not crazy, 'tis a rule," Conor replied with finality. He looked down at the ball and then gingerly took his stance again. He waggled slowly over the ball then he made his swing. He made solid contact off the tight lie. The ball shot into the air toward the flag as if on a wire. It landed just short of the green and bounced forward onto the fringe.
Billy watched the shot finish in some disbelief. He turned back to Conor. "That was a heck of a shot, fella,"
"Thanks be," Conor replied. "But now we are to be needing one from you!"
Billy's fourth shot from the fairway was a good one, finishing on the green twenty feet from the hole. He would have a putt to save bogey and Conor a putt from the fringe to do the same. Babcock and Pennington played their second shots; Pennington into the right green side bunker from where he would not save par, Babcock to the green thirty feet from the hole. After Babcock two putted for par, Billy missed his bogey putt. Conor stalked his putt looking at the line. He crouched behind it studying the slope further. Finally he rose and took his stance. He made the stroke. The ball just caught the low side of the hole and toppled sideways into the cup. Cheers erupted from the crowd. The match was again tied, but few in the gallery realized it at the moment.
As Billy walked from the green Robert stopped him. "That was a heck of a birdie Conor made from over there!" he said with excitement.
"Wasn't a birdie, was a bogey," Billy replied.
"How's that?"
"Conor called a two shot penalty on himself back in the hazard. Moved a rock on his backswing. Real bad luck, that."
"He did? Really?"
"Yeah… listen, gotta go," Billy said with a determined look and then moved on to catch up with Conor as they moved to the eighteenth tee.
Robert went to find Charlie to tell him the news. Annie eventually heard the word spread through the crowd that the match was tied. She was so excited she could hardly contain herself. She watched as Conor and Billy walked together to the last tee, Conor a smile on his face. She saw Billy look at him quizzically, and Conor say something back that made Billy chuckle. She thought that was a good sign.
With the pressure on, Babcock and Pennington could not find the fairway on the last hole although neither wound up in serious trouble. Pennington pushed his drive right into light rough but it was long enough to clear the trees on the dogleg right. Babcock pulled his drive left into the rough leaving a longer approach shot. Both shots were met with scattered light applause from the gallery that had now swelled to several hundred stretching down both sides of the fairway.
As he had the entire round, Billy led off for his team. His drive was perfect; another high arcing draw that hugged the right side of the fairway then fell left out of the sky to the middle of the fairway. It drew a burst of applause and whistles. He smiled and waved an acknowledgement to the crowd and gave way to Conor who stepped onto the tee box.
Conor reached into his pocket for his tee and again felt the handkerchief with the embroidered tulip in the corner that Annie had given him. He squeezed it between his fingers and gave a quick glance around the crowd hoping perhaps to spot her but the gallery was but a blur. Then his attention turned to the task at hand. He teed his ball then stepped behind it to pick his line. He walked to the ball and took his stance. He glanced twice down the fairway at his target and then swung. The ball shot off the tee never rising higher than the tops of the trees as it followed a line down the left center of the fairway then faded gently to the right following the curve of the fairway. It landed and took several bounces before rolling out two hundred and seventy yards from the tee. It was a shot so perfect the gallery went silent for an instant taking it in before they exploded in cheers, whistles and applause. Conor smiled and waved. Watching from behind him in the gallery, Annie hopped up and down with excitement.
The gallery followed the players and their caddies down the fairway to their second shots. Babcock was first to play. The ball had finished in a clump of heavy Kikuyu grass. As he swung, the clubhead caught the wiry blades and turned over sending the ball well left and short of the green a
nd into more rough. Skipper slammed his club into the ground in disgust then flung it at Benny as some caddies in the crowd let out a few hoots and jeers.
Billy was next to play. Unlike the previous hole he was able to control his nerves. He discussed the shot with Dogface and then selected his club. He made a controlled swing. His shot climbed up into the sky in another high draw that started to the right of the green then began curving left. It looked perfect and even drew a few "oohs" and "ahs" from the gallery while in the air. But Billy knew he hadn't quite hit the shot solidly and began calling out after it, "Get up! Get up!" The ball came down a foot beyond the bunker guarding the right side of the green, hopped backwards into the sand and rolled to the bottom of the bunker. The crowd groaned. Billy shook his head and handed the club to Dogface.
Conor had stood watching the shot and stepped up to Billy and put his hand on his shoulder. "'Twas a good play. Just bad luck. You can get up and down." Billy gave a small smile back.
Pennington was up next. The gallery moved back into the trees on the right side of the fairway to give him room to play the shot. He discussed the shot with Pissquick who advised him to try to hit a low running shot up the hill and onto the front of the green. But Parker had other ideas. He wanted to hit it close for a chance at birdie. He opted for a high hard left to right fade trying to carry it all the way to the hole cut toward the back right of the green. He almost carried it off. The shot had the distance but it faded too much, missed the green to the right and bounded down the slope to the bottom of the swale. Parker spun away as he saw the shot land knowing it would be nearly impossible to get a pitch shot close to the hole from that position.
The gallery followed Conor another twenty yards up the fairway to where his ball lay. When he reached it he put his hands on his hips and hung his head. The ball had finished in the middle of a deep divot. A quiet murmur spread through the crowd as the situation became apparent. Billy stood next to Stovepipe and exchanged a look with Conor who smiled and shrugged. "Give it a go, fella," Billy encouraged. "You have this shot."
"I'm not sure anyone is to have this shot," Conor said. "But let's see what we can do."
Stovepipe handed him the niblick. Conor surveyed the shot then stood to the ball playing it far back in his stance. He took his backswing and then came down steeply into the ball. It came out low and hot landing short then skipping over the front of the green and rolling across it and up onto the slope behind the green. The gallery reacted with a mix of applause and "Oh no's!" Conor handed his club to Stovepipe and then began marching up the hill to the green.
As the four players approached the green the large gallery that had waited for them around the green and up on the clubhouse veranda gave them all a round of applause. The players stopped to let Babcock play this third shot. He tried to play a high pitch from the rough but slid the clubhead underneath the ball and popped it up well short on the front of the green forty feet from the hole. He cursed and again slammed the club to the ground. The crowd stayed silent and moved their attention to Billy in the bunker.
Billy played quickly. He shifted his feet into the sand and hit his shot onto the green. But instead of skipping forward as he'd planned, the ball checked up twenty feet short of the hole. He looked away in disgust to some scattered applause. He left the bunker and traded his wedge for his putter with Dogface. As the crowd moved forward to encircle the green, Annie worked her way forward to a position just behind the front row of spectators.
Pennington took a lot of time to look over his shot walking up and down the slope several times trying to imagine the shot he could play. Finally he tried to play a low driving shot into the hill so the ball would pop up onto the green close to the hole. But he misjudged the loft and the ball screamed low just over the brow of the slope and into the gallery on the other side of the green. The crowd groaned as Pennington dropped his club and put his hands over his eyes. He was still away so the players and the crowd waited while he and Pissquick made their way to his ball for his fourth shot. He made a brilliant chip trying to save his par but the ball rolled over the edge of the hole stopping just a foot past. The crowd groaned then applauded the shot. He tapped in for bogey.
His partner had been pacing back and forth impatient to play his long putt. When it was finally his turn to play Babcock rolled the ball three feet short of the hole to scattered applause. Unable to do any better than his partner's bogey, he picked up the ball and in a snit of pique threw it wildly over the crowd and back down the fairway. A few young boys took chase after it.
Conor's shot was not easy. Chipping from a down slope to a green tilted away from him it would be difficult to stop the ball close to the hole. Which is exactly what happened. He chopped at the ball sending it just onto the fringe. It hopped once then started to roll slowly down the incline of the green. It seemed to roll for minutes trickling past the hole as the crowd began to murmur. It finally came to rest ten feet beneath the hole.
Billy gamely lined up his putt for a par and the win. His putt up the hill held its line until just a foot from the cup. As it lost speed it curved to the left and grazed the edge of the hole. He walked up and tapped in for his bogey. He picked his ball out of the hole and walked back to where Conor was lining up his putt. "Just make it," was all he said as he moved past him to watch from the side.
Conor reached into his pocket to feel for the handkerchief. He took some knowledge from Billy's putt that had been on nearly the same line. He blocked everything out – the crowd, the win, the other players. He stepped over the putt and took his stance. He took no practice stroke. He looked at the cup twice and drew back the putter. His stroke was pure. The ball hugged the green in a tight roll. He'd given it enough weight that it reached the cup with some speed. It hit the center of the hole and dove out of sight. He had won.
The crowd shrieked then roared. Conor held up both arms and screamed in relief and joy. Annie couldn't contain herself. She pushed past the spectators in front of her and took three steps onto the green toward Conor and then stopped cold.
Little Mary had burst from a cluster of kitchen and wait staff that had been watching behind the green. She ran out onto the green in her long black skirt and white blouse uniform and leapt into Conor's arms planting a huge kiss on his lips. Conor laughed and twirled her around and around and then kissed her back as the throng applauded and cheered. Conor set her down but Mary was beside herself with joy. She again jumped into his arms and kissed him again.
Annie was struck as if by lightning. Frozen she watched the display between Conor and Mary. Her heart sinking she saw Conor put his arm around Mary's waist and begin to lead her off the green. She watched as he leaned over to kiss the top of her head in joy. Just then a group of caddies led by Gino charged onto the green and lifted Conor to their shoulders and paraded him around the green to more cheers and shouts from the crowd. Annie stood as a statue in shock. Then she turned away and, as if in a trance, began walking back to her car. She did not see the crowd drifting after the players into the clubhouse. She did not see Michael find Mary and embrace and kiss her and walk off the green with her his arm around Mary's shoulders. When she reached her car she got in and sat behind the wheel. She put her forehead against the wheel and began to sob, tears of anger and hurt streaming down her face. He was gone. Everything was gone.
(back to top)
Chapter 30
Awards
Sunday, May 25, 1930
Conor and Billy were the last ones in the locker room. They showered and changed clothes and were about to meet up again with Robert and Charlie in the men's grill for another drink before joining the women at the banquet. The immediate celebration after the round had been chaotic. Everyone wanted to slap the two on the back and offer their congratulations. Beer steins had been thrust into their hands and the commotion on the patio outside the locker room had been raucous and joyful. There had been no time to look for Annie.
"You ready?" Billy asked as Conor finished tying th
e knot on his new yellow tie.
"Aye. But give me minute, there's something I need to do. I'll meet you upstairs," Conor replied looking into the mirror.
"Well, don't be long. You don't want to give me too much of a head start," Billy laughed.
Conor watched in the mirror as Billy left the locker room for the stairway to the grill. When he was gone Conor walked out to the parking lot. He looked for the red Cadillac. It wasn't there. He walked back around the clubhouse and looked out over the eighteenth green and the course beyond. He wished it had been Annie that had run out onto the green and leapt into his arms. He wanted to share his joy with her, to hold her and laugh with her. He would need to find her soon.
The men's grill was packed and loud, the cloud of cigarette and cigar smoke doing nothing to muffle the din as the players and their friends recounted their rounds and told the story of Billy and Conor over and over again. Conor got more pats and shouted greetings as he made his way through the crowd. He finally spotted Robert, Charlie and Billy at the end of the bar surrounded by well-wishers. Robert saw Conor approach and picked up two glasses from the bar, excused himself and made his way out to meet Conor half way. "I need to talk to you," he said to Conor handing him a drink. "Follow me."
They went from the grill, through the dining room and out onto the veranda. "First, off," Robert said turning to Conor, "Here's to a great round. You really played your heart out today. You showed me – everyone – a lot." He held out his glass in a toast that Conor met with his own.
"Thanks, Bob," Conor replied taking a sip of the scotch. "You're the one who gave me the chance. 'Tis glad I am Billy and I were able to repay the confidence."
"You did more than that. You put some real jerks in their place. That was worth as much as the money. Tell me, though; what was that penalty back at the seventeenth all about? You called it on yourself?"
"Moved a rock in the hazard, I did. Just a bad break it was."
"Showed a lot of class if you ask me, calling it like you did when nobody else could possibly know."
