If my memory serves me right, I think that this article dates way back to 1973 when I was sixteen years old. That would make my father fifty-six, which is seven years younger than I am today. I remember that sunny day very well and how happy I felt holding that trophy in my hands.
What a fantastic round of golf that was. My father and I complemented each other perfectly. We made amazing recoveries, drove long drives straight down the middle, shot chips landing next to the hole, and sunk many a long putt for birdie. Beyond recalling the feelings of excitement and being pumped up with adrenaline, I don't really remember that many exact details. One episode though that does remain clear in my mind is the following.
The 17th hole was a par 3 and my father had a long uphill birdie putt from the front of the green. I was attending the flag and hoping that he would putt it close enough for an easy par. When he struck the ball too hard and realized that it would end up rolling much too far past the hole, he screamed "Step on it, stop it!" When I ignored his cursing he repeated it with such aggressiveness and furious anger that I began to tremble doubting whether or not he was serious and if he was directing his anger at me. I hesitated but held my ground doing my best to ignore him. Then at the top of his lungs, he hollered "Step on it!" one last time. Despite the rules of golf, the fact that we were playing in a very important club championship, and to make things worse we were leading with a fantastic score, I acted like the good and obedient son that I was. Not wanting to go against my father's wishes, worried about the possible repercussions of ignoring his orders, believe it or not, I actually stepped on that ball and stopped it dead in it's tracks.
I guess after that embarrassing display of poor sportsmanship, we should have been either disqualified from the tournament or given the usual hefty penalty of two strokes. We were playing with Bill Chapman and his father, and they were so kind to look the other way, let us place the ball about where it would have ended up, and allowed us play on as if nothing had happened. Just a small glitch, and it was after all a friendly good old club match. We had played an amazing round of golf (despite a bogey on that hole), truly a stellar performance, so in a way we still deserved to win that trophy.
I really had never ever thought about it, not even at the time of holding that trophy as the winners, the memory had been erased from my mind in the joy of that moment. Not until thirty years on when I met up again with my former golfing buddies Craig, Danny and Bill. When Bill recounted the scene in excruciating and embarrassing detail, we couldn't stop laughing and rolling on the ground. Strange how a long lost memory can be rekindled and brought back to life again in that way.
