There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep. Ralph Waldo Emerson

If you haven't time to respond to a tug at your pants leg, your schedule is too crowded. Robert Brault

Whats driving a bus like? Seventy of your kids in the back seat going to town. Mr. Brandon

Thursday, May 5, 2016

"Yardage"

When he stepped on the bus you knew this was not just a normal day. He had on a nice pair of pressed khaki shorts, a handsome pull over three button shirt, and sun glasses. After he was seated he addressed me as if we were already in the middle of a conversation, “That’s right I’m headed for Las Vegas. I’m playing in a big golf tournament out there. I’ve decided to play some professional golf.” Well this most defiantly explained the sharp outfit and it was a change of pace from all the professional athletes that I usually carry to school each day. Having played a few rounds of golf myself I felt this might lend its self to some tickets to the Masters or some other prestige’s tournament if he were playing in the area. I didn’t ask about ticket to the Vegas tournament a little too far to travel. Well, he sat quietly for a few miles. I assumed he was going over his game plan in his mind like most professionals do. The next thing I know he asked, “Mr. Brandon do you have a five iron?” I apologized, not have a five iron on me at the time and said it in that quiet tone that golf announcers use, because without me knowing it he had already teed off and was in the middle of the fairway. Trying to get a feel for the course and being a helpful caddie I asked, “Do you need it to finish out this hole?” “Yes, I’m trying to make a decision here.” You know yardage is critical in club selection and not to question his judgement I asked, “Well, how far are you from the hole?” He squinted as he looked down what appeared to be the fairway, out the front window of the bus. I looked and could not see the hole so it must have been a considerable distance so a five iron could have been the proper club selection. I repeated, “How far?” “Well,” he turned and gave me that thoughtful look, “about twenty….. about twenty minutes.” I’ve had rounds like that. I didn’t want to second guess him but for me, a distance to the hole of twenty minutes at least calls for a three wood.

1 comment:

  1. This was a very interesting read! love the way you were able to create the whole scene and explain the characteristics of the two in such a small post

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