Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Dusting off my yardage book

I came out of retirement last week to loop in The Spirit International Amateur Championships in Trinity, Texas. It's a 72 hole event held every other year at the Nicklaus designed Whispering Pines Golf Course with the combatants coming from 24 countries across the globe. It was a blast again this year. Some of the featured countries were Italy, Mexico, Sweden, Finland, Scotland, England, Canada, Australia, Russia, and Korea.
I was fortunate enough to work again this year for the USA Team, Captained by Duke Butler. I looped for Paige MacKenzie who is a 22 year old fifth year senior from the U of Washington-Seattle. She played in the Women's US Open this past summer as an amateur, made the cut, and finished T13 and would have made $67K for her efforts had she been a professional. This girl has GAME! Paige is about 5'10", hits it 280 off the tee, and was easy to pull clubs for because she and I hit our irons the same distance. Paige was an absolute joy to work for and made 14 birdies for the week. Her plans are to finish her college career and then turn professional. Look her up at an LPGA event near you soon.
She was paired with Amanda McCurdy from the U of Arkansas and also played in the ladies open and also made the cut. Amanda is 5' nothin', cute as a button, and also quite a player.
The men who represented the USA were Jaime Lovemark of San Diego and Sam Saunders, The King's grandson, from Orlando. Both men hit it a ton!
The USA Team finished T2, second only to the English team who won going away.
But as you may be able to surmise, I like the odd and humorous. Most of loopers weren't professionals. Far from it. Lost headcovers, missing clubs, whiffing tee times, and showing up drunk. It all happened last week. (and I wasn't the offender)
The best story of the week had to have been the veteran caddie from Houston who was working for one of the Puerto Rican men. The player was having an exceedingly difficult day putting the undulating, quick greens at Whispering Pines. The caddie kept telling the player how bad a putter he was. "You're the worst putter I've ever seen". "You couldn't putt in a pipe". This went on for most of the round, until the player threatened to kick the caddies ass unless he shut up.
The only lingering problems I experienced from the week were a few rogue blisters on my feet, and a raging case of caddie ass!

Thursday, February 10, 2005

I wanna be a tranny!

So I see that the British, in their infinite wisdom, have decided to allow transexuals to play in their Ladies Open Championship.
This brings up a few perplexing questions. Would Ben Wright have a problem with his fellow countryman's decision? Will he opine that dude's crank (or the space formerly that said crank occupied) will get in the way of his/her turn? Is there ever any confusion when going to the restroom which door to go into? Could Laura Davies beat Minnie/Maxi in an arm wrestling match? Will Jennifer Rosales ask dude to open doors and light her butts? Did dude ever date Lorena Bobbit? Does Eddie Murphy have him/her on speed dial? Were Minnie and Dr. Renee Richards ever a mixed doubles team? If he/she had man tits pre-op, would he/she have woman tits post-op? Paper or plastic? Inquiring minds...
All I know for sure is that I want to be a lesbian tranny. Hit from the red tees and eat all the cat you want.

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Allem's Exploits

Fulty's exploits on tour are legendary. He is one of the funniest individuals I've ever been around. When we were leaving the Princess for the Phoenix Autobahn, I was with the car which was illegally parked in a fire zone waiting on those two fools to return. Fulty comes out of a side hotel door down a concrete walkway of some 50 yards with his briefcase and a pair of shoes. That's it. Meanwhile Bull is bringing up the rear with a suitcase the size of a large steamer trunk, golf clubs in a travel case, three pairs of shoes in single shoe bags, and a hanging bag. He looked like a walking bellhop luggage cart. So Fulty arrives at the car and turns around to check on Bull's progress only to see him struggling some 30 yards back with his freight and yells, "COME QUICKLY, RRRRRRRRUUUUUNNNNNN!!!" He is want to treat his loopers like dogs. "COME, SIT, SPEAK" Then as we're on our journey to the airport and Bull coaxs Fulty to write him a check for his salary for the week. All the while he's sliding around the front seat while trying to write the check.
There was an occasion some years back where Fulty was in an especially crappy mood and not playing well. After hitting aother bad shot in a series of several, he turned to Bull and said, "Give me something to break!" Bull quickly replied, "How about par?" Needless to say they had quite a unique employer/employee relationship.
A couple of my favorite Fultyisms are:
-"My luck is so bad right now that if you cut a woman in half and gave her to me, I'd get the half that eats and talks"
-"I've never seen the hole come to the ball"
-Upon reaching the tee a number of years back at the US Open, Fulty addresses the ball late in the day as the shadows were getting long. There was a gentleman in the gallery whose head was casting a shadow directly over the teed ball. The man kept moving his head to try and get a better look at Fulty's tee shot. So Fulty takes his driver and starts pounding the ground wherever the shadow of the man's head moved. Without even looking at the gentleman, Fulty says "Sir, I know your head is hollow, but it still casts a shadow".

Saturday, February 05, 2005

Ahhh.....Phoenix in the Winter.

Ah yes, I remember the Phoenix Open. It was the winter of '94. I travelled to see what the buzz was all about. I'd heard for years from my caddie confidants that this week was off the hook, so I had to see for myself what the buzz was all about. I arrived on Friday afternoon and immediately made my way to the Princess, checked in and I was literally out the back door to the TPC of Scottsdale. I caught up with my buddy Bull, a veteran tour looper. He was working for a crazy South African player that week. We'll just call the player Al, for short. (These names have been changed to protect the perhaps not so innocent) When I caught up with them, they had just made the turn to the front nine to finish their round. At that time, they were well positioned to make the chop by a couple of shots. So I see my buddy Bull in the fairway of a par 4, and he was not acting as a seasoned caddie of some 15 years should act. He was jumping back and forth from his fellow caddies for some peculiar reason then consulting his player. Al hit his shot and wasn't pleased with the outcome, which became rather obvious due to his agitated state. About that time I made contact with Bull who came over to the ropes and explained to me that unbeknowst to him he had inadvertantly dropped his yardage book in the porta john on the last hole and was having to consult the other caddies in the group for Al's yardage. He said he had dispatched a volunteer to see if his book was able to be located in the john he had just visited. A short time later, the volunteer could be seen walking with the yardage book between two fingers dripping blue liquid, amongst other things. The bogey man cometh. The next hole was a par 3. The newly returned book in hand, Bull gives the pertinant info to Al, and he proceeds to hit a horrible shot and then proclaims to anyone within earshot, "THERE WAS SHIT ON MY GRIP!!!", referring to the newly returned, but maybe not so sanitary, book. The bogey man returneth. Flash to their final hole. Al was on the number to make the weekend when they arrive at the green in regulation. Al proceeds to miss a 2 footer on the last to miss the cut by a shot. Road. Trunk slammer. Whatever you wish to call it. Obviously having his chili running a little hot, Al storms off the green towards the scoring tent to sign his card when he saw a tour official in a cart. Al marches over to the official and says, "NO self respecting goat would graze on these greens!" So now we have to return to Al's suite, get him packed, and drive him in the courtesy car to the Phoenix airport to so Al can catch the last flight of the day to San Jose I believe, for the next weeks event at Pebble. And all this has to be done in a little over an hour or Al might completely melt down. So now we're off to the airport from Scottsdale at a high rate of speed. Bull driving, Al in the passenger seat, and me in the back seat with a death grip on the seat in front of me. Now at the time, the was no good way to get from Scottsdale to the airport in Phoenix. Nothing but surface streets with a stop light every 5 iron or so. So Al is barking instructions at Bull as we weave in and out of traffic between lights, "BIRDIE IN THE RIGHT LANE....EAGLE IN THE FAR LEFT LANE!" All the while people in adjoining cars seeing the Phoenix Open logo on the side of the courtesy car wondering who the player was who had obviously just missed the chop due to the excessive speed and reckless driving. At one point in the journey, the 3 lane road was slowed to a snails pace as 3 elderly drivers slowly drove side by side by side. Furious, Al starts screaming, "MOVE YOU FUCKING OXYGEN THIEVES!" It was a brief turtle dance. Well, by the grace of god we made it safely to the airport, got Al on his plane and returned to the courtesy car outside. When we returned to the car, there were a number of skycaps surrounding the car as brake dust and asbestos wafted through the air. One of the skycaps asked if we had driven over with the emergency brake on. We expained that no, we hadn't but that we were instead Hollywood stunt drivers. Shame on the eventual owner of that poor, abused car. We made our way back to the Princess where Bull had instructions to check Al out of his room since there was no time to do so prior to our excellent airport adventure. Of course, as any good seasoned looper would do, he moved himself into Al's suite for the rest of the weekend, repleat with Dom, room service and women. All on Al's tab.