Sudden Death

by Michael Balkind

  The gallery applauded loudly when he was done. Kallman walked over and shook his hand. They resumed play, but as Reid was about to hit his putt on the next green, someone shouted, “One time.” Reid stopped his swing, walked over to the announcer and borrowed the megaphone. He went to a security guard and whispered in his ear. The guard nodded and quietly spoke into his radio. Reid brought the megaphone to his mouth and said, “Okay folks, I have an offer to make and I need you to react quickly. I will pay anyone $500 to raise your hand if you are standing next to one of the obnoxious hecklers.” Four hands went up immediately and guards moved in, apprehending the offenders. As they were ushered off the course, the crowd exploded in applause. Reid said, “Quiet please.” Once the noise died down, he said, “Security, would you please take the names of those who were daring enough to raise their hands. If the four of you come to the clubhouse after we finish today, I will write you each a check.”

  Once again, the gallery cheered until Reid said, “Okay everyone, shhh, Let’s continue the match.” The crowd quieted and play resumed. They finished the front nine without another incident. The crowd was much more subdued. Reid said to Buddy and Jon, “It’s amazing how four idiots can provoke an entire gallery to get too loud.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like that. I’m impressed,” Kallman said. “You handled it with finesse. You know, having never been paired up with you, I was a little intimidated about today. But after watching and listening to you, I guess I shouldn’t judge someone based on hearsay. You’re a gentleman, Reid, and the PGA is lucky you’re a member.”

  “Don’t let anyone hear you say that,” Reid said with a grin. “I wouldn’t want it to ruin the reputation I’ve worked so hard to earn. Come on, let’s grab a sandwich before the back nine.”

  After lunch, Reid played phenomenal golf. At the end of the day, he was in the lead. Kallman congratulated him and thanked him for proving the press wrong.

  Reid and Buddy went to the locker room to clean up. They had to meet Buck and Carl by the pool for some quick pictures. Outside, Reid sat on the edge of a chaise lounge and made a show of untying one of his sneakers. “Oh, not again!” Buck said. “Just fooling,” Reid said. Buck and Buddy chuckled. Carl and the photographer had puzzled looks on their faces. “Forget about it, Carl, it’s not worth repeating,” said Buck. “Whatever.” Carl shrugged. “Gentlemen,” the photographer said. “If you don’t mind, we need to hurry so I can catch the right light before we lose the sun.” “Sorry, where to?” Reid asked. “Back to the 13th tee. I’d like to get some pictures with the azaleas in the background.” They took shots at the tee, on the fairway and on the green, both with and without cigars. When they finished, Reid asked Carl to join them for dinner. “As long as I can buy,” he said. During dinner, Buck asked if there were any highlights from the day’s round of golf. “I’ll say there was,” Buddy blurted. He explained Reid’s handling of the hecklers. “Perfect, Reid, I love it,” Carl said. “I can see the headlines, ‘The bad boy of golf boots hecklers from the Master’s.’ It’s great for the image. Bad boy or good? Let’s keep ‘em guessing.”

  Reid lashed out in heated irritation. “Carl, all I can do is be myself. I’m no good at acting; in fact, I’m lousy at it. I will be happy to represent Eagle in any way you wish, but I can’t, nor will I try to be, anything or anyone but myself. I will talk about and play with your balls. Please excuse the pun. But I will not portray an image of the bad boy or the good boy. What I will do is continue to win and act in a way I believe is morally and ethically correct, both on the course and off. I hope that’s acceptable to you and Eagle?”

  “Whoa! Reid, of course it’s acceptable. I didn’t mean to imply anything to the contrary. Ethics and morals are the fundamentals on which Eagle is based. In fact, if you were to change anything, I’m sure it would have a negative effect on both our ad campaign and the obvious passion and intensity with which you seem to live your life. I’m sorry if you took that any other way.”

  Carl and Reid stared at each other for a moment, then gradually both smiled. Buck and Buddy breathed very obvious sighs of relief. Buck said, “Can we eat now, before you two totally ruin my appetite?”

  They enjoyed their meal. Carl asked, “Anyone up for cigars and after dinner drinks?” “Not me, thanks,” Reid said. “I need to get some sleep.” “Why don’t we all go back to the hotel?” Buck said. “We can relax out on the patio.” “Works for me,” Carl said. They all piled into Carl’s rental Town Car. “Hey, I know a great night club about 15 minutes from here,” Carl said. “Who’s game?” “Drop me off at the hotel first, please,” Reid said. “Let’s save the club for tomorrow night,” Buck said. “No problem,” said Carl. At the hotel, Reid bade them good night and went directly up to bed. The three others went outside to enjoy Cohibas and Port.

  On Friday, the weather took a turn for the worse and the tournament was played in a consistent drizzle. Tour players were accustomed to foul weather golf. Some actually welcomed a very light drizzle. Fewer spectators came out in inclement weather, which allowed for faster play and fewer distractions. The day passed problem-free and the weather cleared by late afternoon. Reid played well and increased his lead by three shots.

  Immediately following his round, he returned to the hotel for a soak in the hot tub and a hot stone massage. He ate an early dinner with the men in the hotel grill. Buck, Carl and Buddy went out to a nightclub after dinner. Reid hung out with a few players and some Eagle executives at the bar. He drank Diet Coke while trading funny stories and jokes. He took the ones about him, even those that stung, in stride.

  Back in his suite around 8:30, he turned on the TV. Food Network only – no news. In no time, he was snoring away. The TV woke him as it got louder during a commercial. He dragged himself to his room, shed his clothes, called for a wake-up call and quickly fell back to sleep.

  Chapter 9

  Saturday was an exquisite day. A deep blue sky was dotted with just enough cottony clouds to give periodic relief from the intense sun. The air was balmy and as expected, the crowds overflowed the fairways. One spectator constantly annoyed Reid with hoots and hollers, but was too stealthy to be caught. Reid had made a few mistakes on the front nine, but was recovering quite well on the back. That is, until the 14th hole when the rowdy fan wisecracked, “Nice shot, champ!” after Reid hit a poor second shot. All day, Reid had managed to keep his temper from flaring, but this pushed him beyond tolerance. He stormed toward the source of the heckling with Buddy at his heels. In front of the gallery, approximately where the shouts had come from, he said sternly, “Whoever you are, you better keep hiding because if I catch you, it’s gonna get ugly. Do me a favor, just like they often tell me, grow up. Better yet, why don’t you find a sport where your yelling is appropriate, and stay there?”

  The gallery applauded as he walked back to his ball. Buddy said, “You scared the shit out of me, boss. Let’s just focus on the rest of the round and win this thing, okay?” “What the hell do you think I’m trying to do?” Reid barked. “Okay, okay, calm down, we’re on the same team, remember?” “Sorry, I’m just pissed off.” “Yeah, I noticed, but you’ve got to keep yourself together.” “Okay, just give me a second to calm down.” Reid made a show of inhaling and exhaling deeply. Then he nodded. “I’m ready.” As everyone settled down, they resumed play. Reid’s ball had landed in serious trouble. The crowd had jumped out of the way as the ball landed near them and ricocheted off something hard. It flew through some trees and came to rest in a small clearing. Reid and Buddy were not happy when they saw the ball’s ugly position. There was barely enough room for Reid to swing without hitting one of the exotic Chinese Fir trees the hole was named after. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he had a long tunnel of trees to hit through to get back to the fairway, heading for the green. There was no opening that afforded a safe lateral punch shot. The only safe shot was backward toward the tee, and that just wasn’t an option, not for Reid. “Looks like we’re damned either wa
y,” Buddy said. “Give me my two-iron.” “So you’ve already decided, huh? Glad I could be of help.” Buddy handed him the club. “Come with me; we need to study this shot.” They walked through the tunnel, out to the fairway. Buddy said, “You’ve still got another 65 yards to the green. If you keep it low and land it here,” he said pointing to an area on the fairway just past the rough, “you should have the momentum to make the green. You’re gonna have to come out hot.”

  “Yeah, I know.” After taking a moment to study the approach, Reid said, “Okay, let’s do it.” They walked back to the ball in silence. The crowd stayed respectfully quiet.

  Studying the shot, Reid took some practice swings. His swing was going to be awkward in order not to hit the trees with the club and yet keep the ball low and fast, or “hot.” Stepping up, he kept the ball at the back of his stance and angled the top of the club forward. Taking one last look at the green, he took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and swung. The ball sailed through the tunnel, landing almost exactly where Buddy had pointed. Then it ran all the way onto the green, broke left and came to rest, leaving a three-foot putt.

  The crowd went wild. As Reid and Buddy emerged from the tunnel of trees, the roar of applause and cheers became deafening. Reid couldn’t help himself. Smiling, he put his fist out toward Buddy for a tap and said, “Not bad.” “Who are you kidding? That was awesome, even for you,” Buddy said. “True,” Reid said with a smile. Finishing the day with a two-shot lead, Reid was happy. On the way to the locker room Buddy said, “Okay, I’m off to pick up your sisters. Their plane lands in 45 minutes. We’ll meet you at the dinner party.” “Alright, see you later. Hey, take care of them for me.”

  Reid had always been very close with his sisters. They were extremely pro tective of one another growing up. He had asked Buddy to pick them up at the airport so they didn’t have to take a cab.

  Later that evening, Eagle hosted a buffet dinner at the club. Most of the players and caddies attended the affair, many with their wives or dates. The ballroom was extravagantly decorated. There were two large ice sculptures: a very realistic life-size golfer at the pinnacle of his swing and a sixfoot golf ball. The sign in front of the ball read, “Play Eagle’s newest ball, ‘Freeze.’ Use Freeze when you want to ice your competition.”

  Huge silver bowls were at the center of each table. They were filled with a mixture of Freeze golf balls and similar-sized spheres of ice. Carl walked over and asked, “Well, gentlemen, what do you think?” “It looks like Reid’s first advertising campaign might be a little chilly,”

  Buck said. “Yup, but don’t worry, Reid, our next ball balances out the Freeze campaign nicely. It’s called Heat,” Carl said. “Freeze and Heat, that’s pretty neat,” Reid said. As Carl and Buck rolled their eyes, Reid spotted his sisters, Betsy and Hunter, searching for him. He hadn’t seen them in months. They ran and smothered him with hugs. Both girls had the same blue eyes as Reid. Betsy was a beautiful girl with the body of a dancer and long, curly brown hair. Hunter had an angelic face with eyes that lit up as she smiled. Her dirty blond hair framed her pretty face in a short bob cut. Reid introduced them to Carl and they said hello to Buck. Reid asked, “Can we sit down? I don’t know about you all, but I’m really hungry.” “Come on, we’re at the head table,” Carl said. I’ll just move Tom Davis and his wife to another table to make room for Betsy and Hunter.” “Don’t do that, Carl. We can sit anywhere,” Betsy said. “I wouldn’t hear of it,” Carl answered. “I’d like to get to know you two better, anyway. Maybe I can get you to reveal some of Reid’s weak spots, for later negotiations.” Both girls’ eyes opened wide as their jaws dropped. “Easy, girls, I was kidding,” he said with a grin. “Whew,” they both sighed. After a quick laugh, everyone followed Carl to the buffet. Delicacies from around the world adorned the table. After dinner, multi-tiered Viennese tables were wheeled in, bearing pastries and other sweets that were not to be believed. The bartenders were very busy all night.

  Before the night was through, Carl went to the podium and thanked everyone for coming. He announced that there was a box of Freeze for everyone to take home. “I would appreciate it if all the tour pros here tonight would try the balls, then contact me with your evaluation.” He then revealed two surprises. “I’d like everyone to reach into the silver bowl on your table and take an ice cube. By now they should have melted to the size of large marbles. Now place the ice in your mouth and let it melt. Do not swallow if you feel something hard after the ice melts. There are tiny platinum golf balls in three of the cubes. Whoever finds the platinum balls will be going on a two-week vacation for two to the Fiji Islands.”

  There was a moment of silence before shrieks came from different areas of the room. One winner was a caddie; the other two were player’s wives. As they were congratulated, waiters entered the room in succession, carrying trays of shot glasses. They quickly handed one to each guest. Squeals of surprise sounded out as everyone realized the shot glasses were made of ice. Carl raised his and said, “To the Master’s and to Freeze. Bottoms up, everyone.” Most did the shot; many reached for a second.

  The evening ended early for the players’ sake. Tomorrow was the final day of the tournament. Reid had reserved the room next to his suite for his sisters. He handed them the cardkeys and said, “You guys can hang out with Buck for the rest of the evening. I’m sure he’ll introduce you to some interesting people. I’ll see you at the golf course tomorrow. By the way, when the tournament is over, what do you say we fly to New York and spend some time with Mom before the Classic at Westchester Country Club?”

  “I have to make sure Steve and the kids are okay with it,” Betsy said. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem. I already have another instructor teaching my dance classes while I’m out. Besides, it’ll be good for Mom.”

  “Why don’t you have Steve and the kids meet us there? They can come watch the tournament.”

  “Good idea. I’ll call and see if he can take a few days off. The kids would love it.” “Marriage sure makes things complicated, doesn’t it?” Hunter joked. “Oh shut up!” Betsy replied with a grin. “Alright, alright, cut it out you two,” Reid said. I have to hit the sack. Go have some fun.” He turned toward the rest of the group at the table. “Good night, all.” “Good night, Reid,” they all said. “Good luck tomorrow,” Carl added. “Thanks, Carl,” Reid said. He turned to Buddy. “We tee off at 2:30. I want to sleep late, then get a massage. Let’s meet in the locker room at 11:30.” “Sounds good,” Buddy replied. By the time Reid got his room it was 10 p.m. and he was bushed. After a quick shower, he got in bed. When he called to request his wake-up call, the receptionist told him he had a message waiting. He said, “I’ll get it tomorrow.” It was time to think golf, and only golf. Once again, he played each hole on the course in his head. Sleep came somewhere in the middle of the 15th.

  Chapter 10

  When the phone rang at 7:30 a.m., Reid opened his eyes and smiled; the Green Jacket fit him perfectly in his dream. He reached over, barely lifted the phone and dropped it back in the cradle. He sat up, rubbed his face and stretched, then called to order breakfast. After dressing, he ate on the balcony, then left for the club to finish the tournament. He met Buddy in the locker room. “Ready?” “Ready,” Buddy said. Reid changed into his golf shoes while Buddy did the shopping for the round: Cokes, water, bananas and candy bars. They met again at the practice range. Reid’s clubs had been delivered to the range earlier with those of most of the players. There were only a few other guys on the range practicing. Most were already playing their rounds or getting ready to tee off.

  Reid took an iron out of his bag and used it to stretch. He handed Buddy the iron and pulled his driver from the bag. Mindlessly, he removed the head-cover and tossed it to Buddy. He teed up a ball and took his stance. It wasn’t until he placed the club behind the ball that he noticed some kind of note taped to the top of the club head. “What the hell is this?” he asked. He lifted the club to read the note. It was a bl
ue piece of paper that said:

  Win today, it’s OK, Win another you’ll be 6 feet under. “Good one, Buddy,” Reid said with a laugh. “I didn’t put it there,” Buddy said shaking his head. “Right,” Reid said in doubt. “Really, Reid, I didn’t,” Buddy said emphatically. “Buddy, if you didn’t do this, we have a problem. Someone’s playing with us.” “What’s it say?” Buddy asked. Reid showed him the note. After reading it, Buddy said, “Real funny. When I find out who did this, I’m gonna kick their butt all the way across the course.” “You think it’s real?” Reid asked nervously, looking around. “No way!…My God! Do you?” Reid took a deep breath and said very seriously, “I don’t know, but real or not, we have a match to play. I can’t let this rattle me. Today is our day, dammit. Take off the note!”

  As Buddy started to remove the note, Reid yelled, “Buddy, stop. If it’s real, that’s evidence. Go get my back-up driver.” Buddy left for the clubhouse. As Reid looked at the note again, his concern grew. So my feelings have been right, he thought. But why would anybody threaten me? Well, I guess there might be a few people with enough reason.

  He grabbed another club and started swinging it, trying to loosen up. After a few swings, he teed up a ball and hit a terrible slice. He teed up another and hit a huge hook. I’m over-compensating, he thought. “Slow down, focus and relax,” he said aloud to himself. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He hit the next ball straight. Thank God, he thought, I can still do it. He banged a few more straight and long. Then he took out his wedge and hit some short shots. He was doing okay, but he could feel a knot forming in his gut. Buddy came back and handed Reid his other driver. “How ya doin’?” “Not so great. If this thing is real, we have a big problem. I know I’ve pissed off more than a few people lately. It’ll be tough to narrow it down to one. God, I hope it’s just a joke.”