Mulligan

by K. G. MacGregor

But the most intriguing aspect of

  following Tami Sparks was

  watching Marty watch Pat Shapiro.

  As they walked between holes, the

  elder pro gave sage advice and

  encouragement to the young

  golfer; and it was as though Marty

  strained to hear what was being

  said. Louise couldn't make sense

  of her partner's fascination with

  the coach and found herself

  hanging back to take it all in.

  "So what about you guys?"

  "Well, we got those two folding

  stools and I think we're going to

  try to set up after they tee off in

  the shade around two, because we

  can see the second green, the

  third tee and the whole sixth

  fairway from there. Then after

  they wrap up the front nine, we'll

  probably head over to the green

  at 10 or 11. When the last group

  comes through, we'll go to the

  bleachers on 18."

  "That sounds like a plan."

  Carol and Joyce emerged from

  their room ready to go. "I can't

  believe our vacation is almost

  over," the latter said. "Two days from now, I'll be back at work."

  "Just one more year, honey. Then

  we'll be sleeping in every day."

  With one more year at the gas

  company, Joyce would increase

  her pension by almost two hundred

  dollars a month. Carol was already

  retired from the post office.

  "How much longer are you going to

  work, Marty?"

  "I don't know. Sometimes I feel

  like what I do isn't really work at

  all. I mean, if I retired, I'd

  probably get up every day and go

  to the golf course."

  Louise had been disappointed at

  first to learn that her partner had

  no definite timetable for

  retirement. But when they'd

  discussed things in detail, she

  learned that Marty was at least

  financially prepared, thanks to her

  IRAs and the regular

  contributions to the LPGA's

  pension fund by her bosses at Pine

  Island and Elk Ridge. If Marty

  worked two more years to 65,

  they'd have plenty of money to

  relax, travel, and play golf

  whenever they wanted. It would be

  a nice life, not far off what she'd

  planned with Rhonda. But Marty

  had also said she thought she'd

  like to keep her toe in the water,

  maybe just giving lessons part-

  time.

  "I think I could handle a job

  where I had to go to the golf

  course every day," Carol said.

  "Who couldn't?" Linda concurred.

  The six friends sat perfectly still

  in the stands as Tami Sparks lined

  up her tee shot on the first hole.

  Yesterday's leader, Shelley

  Coleman, had bogeyed the last two

  holes, dropping into a tie for first

  with Tia Johnston. Tami was four

  back, in a tie for second, but her

  hot round on Saturday had

  prompted the tourney officials to

  place her in the final group.

  Marty understood the pressure

  that was on the young golfer, just

  as it had been on her at the Open

  in 1966. But Marty hadn't had a

  Pat Shapiro in her corner. Sure,

  she'd had Wallace, but as her

  caddy, he'd grown to be more

  concerned about how they lived

  day to day than what was best for

  her future in golf. Looking back,

  she could have used his

  encouragement that day rather

  than his reproach. She longed for

  the chance to give that same

  encouragement to Tami Sparks,

  and hoped that Pat Shapiro could

  do just that.

  All three in the last group started

  off solid, each making par on the

  first five holes. The co-leaders

  seemed to be holding back on this

  final day, playing their most

  conservative game, each hoping

  the other would make a mistake.

  That was exactly the opportunity

  Tami Sparks needed, and Pat

  pushed her through it. Number

  Six was a long par five, the

  entrance to the green narrowed by

  sand traps at the front on both

  sides. A prudent golfer laid up for

  the best position from which to

  loft one onto the green. From

  there, a solid putt would net a

  birdie.

  Tami crushed her drive, and

  boldly went for the green on her

  second shot. The crowd erupted in

  cheers as her ball inched off the

  fringe beyond the trap on the left

  side. If her putting game held, she

  would likely birdie the hole;

  putting pressure on her opponents

  to do the same.

  As expected, both of the leaders

  laid up, finding the green on their

  third shot. Tami was away, and

  shocked the crowd by sinking a

  15-foot putt for eagle. Just like

  that, she'd closed the gap to two.

  But the leaders weren't conceding.

  Johnston parred, and Coleman

  birdied; Tami remained in third

  place, but had netted one stroke

  on the leader.

  Two holes later, she picked up

  another stroke on a par three; and

  on the ninth hole, moved into

  second place as each of her

  playing partners dropped a stroke.

  Heading into the back nine, she

  was tied for second, one back

  from the leader.

  The gallery had almost doubled

  since their start. When the

  electronic leader boards around

  the course showed the movement

  in the last group, fans abandoned

  their old favorites to see if

  history might be made today. No

  qualifier had ever won The Dinah.

  "I can't believe how well Tami's

  playing, Marty. She's got a real

  chance to win it all." Louise was

  genuinely excited to see "their"

  player making her move.

  "Yeah, it's great. But she's got to

  keep pushing herself," Marty

  agreed, hustling ahead to see if

  she could catch what Pat was

  saying. The coach needed to keep

  Tami focused. She had to seek the

  advantage and seize it, keeping

  pressure on the leader to force a

  mistake.

  Louise drifted away from her

  partner, feeling almost like she

  was intruding by her presence

  alone. Marty was barely aware of

  the others around her, intent on

  staying close to Pat.

  Suddenly, Louise understood. It

  wasn't about Tami at all, but about

  Pat Shapiro. Marty wasn't thinking

  about her collapse at the Open

  almost forty years ago; she was

  kicking herself for her own lost

  opportunity to coach this rising

  star.

  And the realization that Marty

  might ra
ther be back on the tour

  made Louise very sad.

  On Number 12, Shelley Coleman

  reminded all those in attendance

  why she was out in front, and why

  she was the leading money-winner

  on the tour this year. From 80

  yards out, she dropped a wedge

  shot within four inches of the

  hole. Her birdie, combined with

  Tami's par, stretched her lead to

  two strokes.

  But the young golfer reached

  deeper into her resolve, returning

  the favor on 14. She tightened the

  screws even further when she

  chipped in from the sand trap on

  the 15th hole. With three holes

  remaining, the two were tied. By

  this time, Tia Johnston had fallen

  back three strokes behind Tami

  and was pretty much out of the

  race.

  Marty was astounded at the way

  Pat had kept the golfer on an even

  keel throughout the day. At 23

  years old, Tami was handling the

  pressure like an old pro. But the

  real test came on 16, when the

  young golfer's tee shot caught the

  treetops on the right, falling into

  the rough well behind her co-

  leader's lie in the center of the

  fairway.

  Hanging back, Marty looked for

  signs that Pat would soothe the

  player's frazzled nerves. This was

  no time to come unglued. Looking

  ahead, she watched Tami circle

  her lie, studying the trees in her

  path and the angle of the incline.

  The young golfer had a narrow

  opening to push it into the fairway

  if she nailed it precisely between

  two stands of trees. But if she

  caught one of the trees, the ball

  might careen to an unplayable lie.

  From the corner of her eye,

  Marty caught another image, that

  of Louise Stevens squatting low to

  study the golfer's approach. She

  smiled as she noticed the flat-

  brimmed hat with the black band.

  It was the same one the blue-eyed

  woman had worn when she'd

  returned to the driving range two

  days after their initial prickly

  meeting; the day Marty had felt

  something inside her click for the

  retired schoolteacher. Suddenly,

  this profound longing she felt

  from seeing Pat and Tami on

  center stage seemed trivial and

  misguided. She didn't want to be

  in Pat Shapiro's shoes. All she

  wanted in the world was what she

  had with Louise.

  The crowd exploded in applause as

  Tami's second shot sailed from

  the trees into the fairway. But

  Marty had missed it; she'd been

  watching her partner. Partner…

  Out of the blue, her thoughts

  wandered back to the night

  before, when she'd unselfishly

  climbed out of bed to go in search

  of something that might help

  Louise feel better. No doubt about

  it, Louise Stevens brought out the

  best in her, and her best had

  nothing at all to do with playing

  golf. Her best was giving love, and

  receiving it openly in return.

  As the gallery shifted forward,

  Marty pushed her way through

  the crowd to walk alongside the

  taller woman. Without a word, she

  suddenly caught Louise's left

  hand, wrapping their fingers

  together to feel the ring she had

  proudly given as her promise of

  their life together. Yes, indeed:

  Louise Stevens was the only thing

  she really needed to be happy, to

  be fulfilled.

  "That was some recovery, wasn't

  it?" Louise asked.

  "Oh, yeah," Marty agreed, though

  her thoughts hadn't made it back

  to the course yet. "I love you,

  Lou."

  The gray-haired woman smiled,

  surprised at the sudden display of

  affection and declaration of love.

  But Louise wasn't the kind of

  person to look a gift horse in the

  mouth, and she knew Marty well

  enough by now to know that

  something had just happened to

  trigger the abrupt change in her

  behavior. Whatever it was, it was

  welcome. "I love you, too."

  Tami salvaged a par on 16, but her

  opponent birdied and moved back

  into the lead. When they both

  nailed the par three 17th, the

  crowd held its collective breath

  for the exciting finish.

  Marty and Lou moved ahead

  quickly to pull up even with the

  middle of the fairway on the last

  hole. From here, they could see

  both the tee and the pin. The 18th

  green was situated on a small

  island at the end of a long fairway.

  A grandstand lined the right side,

  and camera crews looked on from

  behind the green.

  All three players had driven their

  tee shots down the center of the

  fairway, but Tami's had gotten a

  generous roll, stopping almost

  thirty yards beyond the others. As

  the others were away, they hit

  first, laying up in front of the lake.

  Excitedly, Marty explained to

  Louise that the young golfer had a

  chance to go for broke. A perfect

  second shot could clear the water,

  almost guaranteeing a birdie. But

  the risk was enormous: Anything

  less than perfect most likely meant

  finding water and dropping two

  strokes.

  Louise pulled out the small

  binoculars. "It looks like a four-

  wood."

  "She's going for it."

  Several long minutes later, Tami

  Sparks made the shot of her

  young career. The ball sailed

  cleanly over the lake, landing with

  a soft thump on the deeper right

  side of the green and rolling to

  the back edge. The pin was

  positioned on the left, but two

  good putts would net a par.

  Tami relaxed with her caddy as

  the other two golfers hit their

  third shots. Once again, Coleman

  showed her skill with a nine-iron

  shot that landed 10 feet from the

  pin, but spun back to stop only

  three feet from the hole. If she

  sank the putt, she would almost

  assuredly win the championship.

  Johnston cleared the lake, but her

  ball rolled off the back of the

  green into the high fringe, just a

  breath away from falling into the

  water on the opposite side.

  Though she was closer to the pin

  than Tami, she would take the

  next shot because she was not yet

  on the green.

  Marty and Louise hurried ahead to

  find their friends in the

  grandstand. As the players walked

  in front of the stands to the

  footbridge for what would likely

  be thei
r final hole of the

  tournament, the crowd stood in

  unison to cheer the wonderful

  play.

  Johnston hit a fine chip shot that

  rolled within only two feet of the

  pin. To extract herself from the

  drama of the thrilling finish, she

  putted in and waved to an

  appreciative crowd.

  It was Tami's turn. The young

  woman and her caddy walked the

  area a dozen times, assessing the

  break and the speed of the green.

  Finally, she stilled with her putter

  in hand. The silent crowd waited

  to see if she could bring the ball

  within range to birdie the hole,

  perhaps forcing the leader into

  sudden death.

  Thirty feet of void lay between

  the ball and the cup. At last, a

  swift, smooth stroke sent the ball

  rolling, eating up the green,

  breaking at the last moment as

  though it had eyes. The roar of

  the crowd started when the ball

  was 10 feet from the hole, the

  excitement building to near

  pandemonium when the tiny white

  object disappeared from sight.

  Eagle!

  It was all Tami Sparks could do to

  keep from throwing her club into

  the air. She led by a stroke!

  But the drama wasn't finished.

  Shelley Coleman diligently

  repeated the process, studying

  her shot with the realization of

  what was at stake. If she sank the

  putt, she had to face Tami Sparks

  in sudden death. If she missed,

  she finished in second place.

  Three feet. Three feet. Three

  feet… The ball stopped at three

  feet… one inch to the right of the

  hole.

  Qualifier Tami Sparks had just

  won The Dinah.

  In a long-standing tradition, the

  young woman flung herself into the

  lake, dragging her caddy and Pat

  Shapiro along behind. It was one

  of the greatest finishes in the

  history of women's golf, and

  Marty Beck could not have been

  prouder if she'd been in the

  water herself.

  "Let's go congratulate them," she shouted above the roar of the

  crowd. They'd have only a small

  window to do so before the media

  mobbed the winner as she exited

  the course.

  "I still can't believe that finish.

  I've never seen anything like it,"

  Linda gushed.

  "I feel sorry for Shelley Coleman,

  but I swear, it was like Tami was

  fated to win," Carol said.

  The six ladies sat on the

  bleachers at 18 waiting for the

  crowd to clear out. Traffic would

  be a mess, and besides, it was nice

  to have one last chance to absorb

  the enchantment of their

  wonderful week together.