It was one of those weekend mornings in mid-summer when you knew it would be too hot to play more than nine holes. But in the early morning, when the air was still crisp, and the dew was covering the fairways and greens, it was the perfect time to get out to the course. So, Mike and I drove to the golf club to tee off before the reserved times began at 7:00am. Fortunately at that time of day, Beth, the kitchen manager, would be just pulling out a batch of morning glory muffins from the ovens and filling an urn with fresh coffee. And with still-hot muffins and a cup of coffee balanced on our golf carts, we were quickly into a positive frame of mind. This was golf at its best.

 

It was early, but not that early for the Saturday morning regulars, many of whom had already teed off. These were the golfers who abhorred the crowds, the ones who appeared at the course at the crack of dawn and who later bragged about the fact they could play 18 holes in less than three hours. Who could ever test their boasts, anyway? Who would be crazy enough to get up that early to play every Saturday morning, rain or shine? These were the guys, by the way, who wore the plastic golf shoes to repel the dew; those toe-squeezing, rigid all-weather shoes that would turn your socks into a swamp of sweat when the temperature went up. More power to them. I’ll bet they never even stopped long enough to sample Beth’s muffins.

 

We stood on the tee, awaiting an open fairway so that we could hit our first shots when a young couple came running up to the tee and asked if they could join us for nine holes. That was fine, we noted, since we were only going to play nine before it got too hot to play. We introduced ourselves. Jennifer (Jen, she said) and Todd immediately impressed us with their easy-going manner and engaging smiles.

 

Unlike Mike and I, this friendly couple seemed dressed for a major golf event. Jennifer wore a quaint Scottish tam with a lightweight matching plaid sleeveless vest over a cream coloured golf shirt. She had on one of those golf skorts (a hybrid skirt and short combination) and socks with little pom-poms on the back. Yellow and white golf shoes too. Where do they find these things? Every clothing item was definitely a fashion match. In those days there weren’t too many women golfers and those that played often seemed to be more in tune with the emerging ladies golf fashion than the skill required to take on the game. How false an impression this conclusion turned out to be.

 

Before she teed off, I noticed Jen as she taken out a sleeve of Wilson Ultra golf balls – top-line expensive balls with a lower compression, advertised as beneficial for those with slower swings, and for ladies, of course. Inside the sleeve were yellow coloured balls – the first coloured balls I had seen outside the driving range. I had never seen yellow pro-line balls like that in all my golfing experience to that time. I also noticed, too, that the ball colour matched her shoes.

 

Todd was equally turned out. He wore a golf cap pulled back to expose a solid head of hair above his forehead – a la Lee Trevino. The hat was a (very) clean looking white with “Top Flite” in big bold letters across the front. No dirty finger prints, no sweat lines on that hat. Obviously, it must have recently been purchased from the pro shop. He wore a white golf shirt with “Top Flite” emblazoned above the pocket. He also had smartly styled black pants and matching black “Foot Joy” golf shoes, the expensive ones with the black feathered flap to cover the laces. His ball, he noted, was a Top Flite XL, Trevino’s favourite. Unlike Jen’s, though, his were the traditional white colour.

 

We quickly sensed that these folks came to play. Jen proved to be an amazing golfer, driving straight and regularly hitting her drives well beyond our shots. Todd was a big hitter and a great iron player. He was obviously a low-handicap golfer. He used that same Wilson 8802 putter that his idol used, and he could putt very well. In fact, as we watched the two of them play, we realized that this was more a demonstration game by two excellent golfers for two Saturday morning duffers.

 

On the second hole Jen chipped her ball from just off the green to within a foot of the hole. Mike graciously hit it back to her, commenting that it was a great shot. She thanked him but said emphatically that she and Todd did not take “gimmes”. She enquired about where her ball had stopped, proceeded to mark it in that place, and then waited for all to hole out before knocking it into the hole. Mike and I looked at each other, recognizing that this leisurely nine-hole game had suddenly become a more formal match.

 

The couple’s game became a spectacle for us. It’s hard to recall what shots we played – they weren’t important. But I do recall we continued to give each other respectable gimmes. There were certainly no “mulligans” though. It would be embarrassing with these two around. It was apparent that Todd had given Jen a five-stroke advantage, and after each hole ended, they checked their respective scores, noting how many strokes Jen was “up” to that point. Their friendly manner interacting with us was remarkably the opposite when they spoke or looked at one another. What was it that was making them such ferocious competitors?

 

I must say as we got to the ninth hole, I was happy that the round was coming to an end. No longer was I relaxingly taking in the warm sunshine or listening to the call of the blue jay in the pine trees along the fairway. I was actually feeling quite tense. I am sure Mike felt the same way. After everyone hit on that last tee, Todd announced that he and Jen were all even and this last hole would produce the match winner. Where were the TV cameras, I thought?

 

Todd’s drive had gone to the top of the hill which meant he would have a relatively easy second shot to the green. Jen’s ball had landed near the top but had rolled backward about halfway down the hill. For her, it was a steep incline before getting to the top and a long way to the green. Members regularly huffed and puffed to get up that hill. (I had often thought that some teenagers looking for quick cash could make a fair bit of money simply pulling the member carts up that hill). Anyway, the scene was now set for a dramatic finish which certainly did not include the games of Mike and me. While I do not recall the specifics today, I am sure we eventually got to the green, but the focus of attention suddenly was definitely on Jen.

 

We knew that from where her ball sat Jen would have a blind shot to the green. We all stood at the top of the hill to watch her hit. Amazingly the ball sailed over the crown of the hill and landed just short of the green. A terrific shot from that location.

 

Then Todd hit a great iron shot to a spot on the green about 15 feet short of the pin. He strode up to the green with a lope that Rory McIlroy would have envied. Jen maintained a determined look and as she walked toward the green, she surveyed the slope of the green in front of her ball.

 

I can’t remember seeing so much concentration in any “friendly” match I had ever been a party to. But we knew this was not a friendly match. Indeed, it had the air of a grudge match between two badly bruised gladiators. Jen hovered over the ball. She asked me to take the flag out for her chip. Her stroke was clean and direct, and the ball rolled into the hole as if it was on some kind of a leash.

 

A birdie three! Awesome! She leaped into the air and ran over to hug Mike. As she then ran to me, I felt a high-five might be more appropriate and as our hands touched, she yelled out, “Alright Todd, this one is mine. Prepare to get dirty”! What a strange statement. I looked at Mike and he back to me. Was this some kind of incredible long foreplay? We knew from the smile on her face that there was definitely going to be a valuable reward for her that day if Todd missed his putt.

 

Meanwhile, Todd held his 8802 up to his lips. He whispered some magical incentives to that putter. He crouched in that same style so characteristic of Lee Trevino. His putt was straight in but slightly uphill. If he hit it hard enough, it should have been an easy putt – for someone of his caliber, I should clarify. He stroked it perfectly and as it rolled his stern look changed to a faint smile. But just in front of the hole the putt died. Not enough power to make it in. Jen jumped into the air, screaming in what now seemed ridiculous delight. Todd threw his beloved hat onto the ground. He then walked over to Jen and they embraced on the green. “You got me this time”, he said.

 

Suddenly the ferocious competitors became the gregarious smiling couple again. We asked them to join us for lunch, but Todd said he had to get home to finish some chores. Mike, always the one to ask the sensitive questions, put it to them both: “You played so competitively, what on earth were the stakes you were playing for”? Jen smiled and replied, “Every Saturday we play nine holes to see who has to clean the bathrooms. Today, Todd lost, and now he has to do them”. “It’s a hot day today. While he does that, I think I’ll just sit by the pool and sip on a glass of white wine”. “Hope we see you next week, she said, “We really enjoyed our game”.

 

Well if the truth be known, I didn’t. Nor did Mike. Next Saturday we made a point of getting a tee time and teeing off later than the early morning risers and the household gladiators.

 

Wonder what they do to see who does the laundry?