The Back Nine: A Novel About Life After Fifty

by E. A. Briginshaw

  “Hi Max. What brings you by?”

  “Just wanted to stop in and see how you’re doing.” Max was carrying two coffees from Tim Horton’s.

  Jerry invited him in. “Okay, I guess. It’s taking me a little longer than I expected to get my feet back under me.”

  Max placed the coffee on the kitchen table. “I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee, so I just asked them for black and you can dress it up however you like.” Max reached into his pocket, pulled out several creamers and packets of sugar and scattered them on the table.

  Jerry loved the smell of coffee. It had been several days since he’d bothered to get one. “Thanks. I’m a double-double man.” He proceeded to add the cream and sugar.

  Max sat down at the table. “I know I told you to take as much time as you need, but I was wondering when you think you’ll be back at work. The place is starting to fall apart without you. Everyone’s been asking about you.”

  Max reached into his back pocket, pulled out two envelopes and slid them across the table toward Jerry.

  Jerry opened the first envelope and saw it was a card signed by the staff offering their condolences. The second card was from the members. He was surprised by how many people had signed it and how many had written personalized messages.

  “Thanks,” Jerry said. “This means a lot.”

  “The club members consider you part of their family. We all do.”

  Jerry continued to read the messages on the cards. He was starting to feel a little overwhelmed and afraid he was going to start to cry.

  Max rescued him. “Look, next Tuesday is Ladies Day again and I don’t think we can get through another one without you. Scott filled in as starter last week but he lost all control. I’m pretty sure he just gave up and hid in the back shop until they all left. We need you back.”

  Jerry smiled. He could picture Scott trying to get all of the women organized and off the first tee.

  “Sure, I’ll be there next Tuesday.”

  * * *

  Jerry had set an alarm for the crack of dawn the following Tuesday morning, but he didn’t really need it. He was out of bed before it went off. It felt good to have something to do, to have a purpose, to be needed.

  As he sat at the kitchen table eating his breakfast, he looked up at the clock to check the time. He still hadn’t put in new batteries. He searched the drawer by the fridge until he found a package of new ones. Then he slid his chair over, climbed up and put the new batteries in.

  Tick-tock, tick-tock.

  Time was moving forward again.

  * * *

  When Jerry arrived at the golf course, there seemed to be even more chaos than normal. All of the ladies, every last one of them, gave him a hug and offered their condolences, but then they quickly moved on to their demands.

  “I’m scheduled to play with Bev, but Bev is only going to play nine today – her daughter’s getting married this weekend and Bev is organizing a bridal shower later tonight – so I was thinking that we’d move Bev up into Judy’s group and then move Irene back into Bev’s group, but since Irene shares a cart with Gladys, we’ll have to bump Sandra into Heather’s group – but I think that’ll work cause they’re both walkers. Is that okay?”

  Jerry was madly marking the changes on his tee sheet. “Yes, I think that’ll work.”

  He scanned the faces of the women surrounding him until he found the person he was looking for. “Judy, your group is next on the tee. Ladies, let’s keep things moving.”

  The chaos continued for the rest of the morning and didn’t slow down until after two in the afternoon. Jerry felt good about the day, but was exhausted by then. His back was feeling the strain of standing all day and he was resting in a golf cart by the starter’s podium.

  He saw Anne-Marie drive up in her cart and he checked her time on the tee sheet. She was scheduled to play at 2:52 with Janet. Jerry should have gotten up to greet her, but he lacked the energy. Anne-Marie came over and sat down in the seat beside him.

  “I’m early,” Anne-Marie said. “Any sign of Janet yet?”

  “No, but your tee time is not for another thirty minutes. She usually doesn’t show up until about ten minutes before.”

  Anne-Marie reached over and touched his hand. “Sorry to hear about your wife. How are you holding up?”

  “Okay, I guess. It’s tough dealing with the loneliness.”

  “I know all about that. I lost Bill a few years ago. One thing that really helped me was something the minister said. He said Don’t think of him as gone, think of him as gone ahead.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Jerry said.

  “Well, we moved here from out west. Bill moved here first when he got a new job, then I came a couple of months later after he got settled. I was lonely being left behind at the start, but I knew I’d eventually be joining him again. It made it bearable.”

  She reached over to pat his hand. “So, think of it as your wife has simply gone ahead to get things settled. When the time is right, you’ll be joining her again.”

  Jerry thought for a second. She was right. That did make it feel a little better.

  * * *

  Cheech was on the driving range trying out a new 3-hybrid which he’d borrowed from the pro shop. Max had recommended it after Cheech had complained about having trouble hitting shots out of the rough. Max accompanied him over to the range to offer his assistance.

  “Do I hit this thing like a 3-wood?” Cheech asked.

  “No,” Max said. “You hit your 3-wood with a sweeping motion. The shaft of a 3-wood is longer than a hybrid and is great from the fairway because you’ll get greater distance. You actually hit a hybrid like an iron, hitting down on the ball.”

  “Okay, so then what’s the difference between a 3-iron and a 3-hybrid?” Cheech asked.

  Max grabbed a 3-iron from Cheech’s bag and placed it beside the 3-hybrid. “The length of the shafts of both clubs is pretty much the same, but the club heads are quite a bit different. The 3-iron is more like a blade whereas the hybrid has a bigger head on it, but not as big as a 3-wood.”

  “Will that make it go farther?” Cheech asked.

  “Maybe a little,” Max said, “but usually not too much. Why don’t you hit a few to compare?”

  Cheech hit a few shots with his 3-iron. The balls came flying off the club face with a fairly low trajectory.

  “Now try the hybrid,” Max said.

  The shots went about the same distance, but they flew higher in the air.

  “That’s because hybrids have a lower and deeper centre of gravity.” Max said. “You may find them a little more forgiving if you hit it a little off the toe or the heel of the club.”

  “I’m usually okay from the fairway,” Cheech said. “It’s when I’m hitting out of the rough that I’m having problems.”

  Max grabbed a few balls from the bucket and headed over to the side of the range, where the grass was a little longer. He threw three balls down in the longer grass. “Let’s see you hit these with your 3-iron.”

  The first one that Cheech hit was almost perfect, going just as long and straight as the ones from the short grass. But the second one only got about ten feet in the air and hooked to the left.

  “The long grass grabbed the club and closed the club face on that one,” Cheech said.

  “Now try it with the hybrid,” Max said.

  Cheech hit three shots in a row that all went higher and straighter.

  “That’s why they’re called rescue clubs,” Max said. “They’re great out of the short rough. Straighter, higher, almost like you’re hitting from the fairway. If you hit it in the really long rough, you’re still better to just pitch it back into play with an 8-iron or a wedge, but if you’re just in the short rough, hybrids are the answer.”

  “Sold,” Cheech said.

  “I think this will come in handy in the Challenge Cup,” Max said to him as they headed back toward the pro shop. “We’re going to tighten up the f
airways a little bit for the tournament.”

  The Challenge Cup was just over a week away. Cheech had submitted his scores and easily qualified for the team, but he was starting to get a little nervous about the event.

  “How’s the team looking this year?” Cheech asked.

  “The ladies team is solid, but the guys will be in tough. With Glen’s death last year and Stryker now playing for Blackhawk Ridge, we’ll be counting on you, Ray and Bruce to play well if we’re going to pull out a win.”

  “We’ll give it our best shot,” Cheech said.

  Max knew they would. He just hoped their best was good enough.

  Chapter 22: Foreplay

  The Challenge Cup was always held on the September long weekend. On Saturday, the competition consisted of three best-ball matches for the men and three best-ball matches for the ladies. On Sunday, the pairings consisted of six alternate shot competitions, with a man and a woman on each team. On the holiday Monday, the event finished with twelve singles matches. Twenty-four points were available in total. If a match was tied, then each team earned a half-point. Since Blackhawk Ridge was the defending champion, they only needed twelve points to retain the cup. Riverview had to beat them outright to wrestle the cup away from them.

  Every year, a reception was held at the club on the Friday night before the competition began. Since the Challenge Cup was a charity event, there were numerous activities held to raise money. Local companies and suppliers donated merchandise for a silent auction and a few items were raffled off through ticket sales. The club also donated the profits from liquor sales, so the event had the potential to raise a fair bit of money.

  The designated charity had changed a few times since its inception. For the first few years, it had been the United Way, then it was the Heart and Stroke Foundation. This year it was Autism Canada. Max had created a brief video showing Tyler’s golfing ability and the club had taken up the cause. As an added bonus, the great golfer Ernie Els, whose son Ben is autistic, had donated a golf bag with his signature on it as one of the auction items.

  The reception was also when the team members for both teams were introduced and the matches for the first day of competition were announced. Max made a brief speech in tribute to Glen Watkins, their captain from the previous year, and then asked for a moment of silence in his memory. There were several tears shed when the Riverview team members donned golf caps with “In Memory of Glen Watkins” written on them.

  “It seems strange seeing Stryker playing for Blackhawk Ridge,” Bruce whispered to Ray as they stood at the front of the room with all of their teammates.

  Ray scanned the faces of their opposition who stood on the other side of the podium. “Is that your son over there?”

  “Sure is,” Bruce replied. “Josh made their team. So did his girlfriend, Robyn. She’s the one wearing the blue top.”

  All of the players from the Blackhawk team looked young and fit. Stryker was the oldest player on their team by far, but Ray knew he was probably their best player. “Could be another tough year,” Ray whispered.

  Max stepped up to the podium. “We’re now going to announce the matches for tomorrow which will be a two-person best-ball. Since Blackhawk Ridge are the visitors this year, they get to go first.”

  Darren Fletcher, the pro from BlackHawk Ridge, moved toward the microphone. “First out on our side will be our two rookies, Josh Thompson and Kyle Smith.”

  Max called his team together in a huddle. “So who wants to be first out and take these guys on?” he whispered to the team.

  “I’ll go in the first group,” Bruce said. “Josh has never beaten the old man in a match.”

  His wife, Marilyn, shot him a dirty look. She was a good golfer and had made the team, but she was more interested in everyone getting along than in winning. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for one family member to play another.”

  The final decision was up to Max. He thought for a second. He didn’t want to start a family feud right out of the starting gate. “How about we put Cheech and Ray out in the first match? You guys play together all the time so I think you’ll be a good pairing.” He waited for their reaction.

  “Sounds good to me,” Cheech said.

  Ray nodded his agreement.

  “Okay, we’ll send you guys out first. Bruce, I’ll put you and George in our second group.”

  Bruce really wanted to go up against his son, but he relented. “I’ll play wherever you think best.”

  Max stepped up to the podium. “Our first pairing will be Cheech Martin and Ray Ferguson.”

  The MC wrote the names of the first match on a huge whiteboard at the front of the room. The Riverview team got to go first in announcing their players for the second match.

  “Our second group will be Bruce Thompson and George Wilson,” Max said into the microphone.

  Darren briefly huddled his team together to discuss who would be going up against them.

  “Our second pairing will be Jeff Stryker and Brandon Young.”

  Bruce didn’t know anything about the other fellow, but he knew he’d be in tough going up against Stryker. He hoped he didn’t let the team down.

  They continued to announce the names of the rest of the matches and the MC recorded them on the whiteboard.

  “First match tees off tomorrow morning at ten. Good luck everyone.”

  There was a brief applause from the crowd.

  “We’re going to take a ten minute break for everyone to refresh their drinks,” the MC said, “and then we’ll be holding the auction and draws for the prizes. Last chance to get your tickets or your bids in.”

  * * *

  As Cheech approached the bar, he saw Maggie standing in line. He hadn’t spoken to her since she’d driven him home from the hospital several weeks ago. He debated turning in the other direction, but then realized it seemed stupid. He knew she was on the Blackhawk team; she knew he was playing for Riverview. It was inevitable they’d cross paths at some point over the weekend. Might as well get it over with.

  “Good luck in your match tomorrow,” Cheech said.

  “Thanks,” Maggie said. “You, too.”

  A few awkward seconds passed. She seemed to be studying his hair.

  “I see you stopped using that crap in your hair.”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t sure it was actually doing anything.”

  “I don’t know why you started using it in the first place. You look pretty good with some grey.”

  A few more awkward seconds passed.

  “I heard you landed a position with NBT. Congratulations,” Maggie said.

  “Thanks. I like it there. How’d you know about it?”

  “You know, people talk.”

  Maggie reached the front of the line. “Bacardi 1873 and coke,” she said to the bartender.

  “Make it two,” Cheech said. He waved a twenty at the bartender. “I’ve got this.”

  “Thanks,” Maggie said. “I thought you started drinking those new fruity shooter-like concoctions.”

  “Yeah, I did for a while, but I grew tired of them. I decided to go back to one of my old favourites.”

  She smiled at him. “I’ve heard that happens sometimes.” She touched his hand. “Thanks for the drink. I’ve got to get back to my teammates.”

  * * *

  It took about an hour to hold the raffles and announce the winners of the silent auction items.

  “All right everyone,” the MC said, “we’re now ready to auction off the main prize for the evening. This one wasn’t included in the items for the silent auction. We figured we’d raise more money by having live bidding for this very prestigious item.”

  He reached down and picked up the golf bag donated by Ernie Els and held it up so everyone could see it.

  “This is a replica of the bag used by Ernie Els in the President’s Cup competition. Not only has it been signed by Ernie Els, but it’s also been signed by all of the members of the International Team. I see Jason Day�
�s signature, Adam Scott’s, and Canada’s own Graham DeLaet. How about we start the bidding at five hundred dollars.”

  Numerous hands shot up and people started shouting out their bids. It quickly rose to over a thousand dollars.

  “Twelve hundred,” Bruce shouted as he raised his hand.

  Two more bids followed quickly.

  “Fifteen hundred,” Josh said. He smiled at his father when he said it.

  “Sixteen hundred,” Bruce shouted.

  Marilyn elbowed him in the ribs. “What are you doing bidding against Josh? That’s his favourite golfer. Just let him have it.”

  Someone else bid seventeen hundred, but Josh quickly responded with eighteen hundred.

  “Two thousand,” Bruce shouted.

  He leaned over to whisper to his wife. “I’m actually trying to buy it for Josh to give to him as a present. I didn’t think he’d go this high.”

  “Twenty-one hundred,” Josh yelled.

  Marilyn shook her head. “You two are so damn competitive. You don’t even realize what you’re doing, do you?”

  “Twenty-five hundred,” Bruce shouted.

  Bruce saw his son’s shoulders slump. Josh waved his hand to the MC to indicate he was done bidding.

  “Sold,” the MC said.

  Chapter 23: Integrity Of The Game

  The following morning, a small crowd gathered around the first tee to watch the players tee off. Even though Bruce was in the second match, he made sure he got there in time to see his son tee off in the first group. He could tell Josh was nervous with everyone watching and was pleased when he hit a good tee shot. His partner, Kyle, wasn’t as fortunate and hit it in the bunker. Both Cheech and Ray found the fairway with their shots.

  On the first day of competition, each player played their own ball. The team score on each hole was the lower of the scores of the teammates, or “best ball” as it was sometimes called.

  “Good luck, son,” Bruce said as Josh walked off the first tee.