The Hollow Men - Episode 15
Bud gets his nerve up and asks the important questions, Rick and Drew learn a few lessons about Uncle Bill and Drew's Dad during a Sunday afternoon at Golden Acres Country Club.
Welcome back to The Hollow Men after an unplanned break in our weekly trips back in time to those not quite true tales of Texas in the 1970’s and 1980’s.
Last week in Episode 14 Rick and Drew held their favorite August tradition of waving goodbye to a group of Odessa scholars from the Pinkie’s parking lot, the tank business keeps growing, Uncle Bill tells the boys two cautionary tales of Suitcase Oilmen and the Tomorrow Men, and Mr. Blessing enjoys a good laugh at Drew’s expense as Jack Blessing graduates from college.
Since I’ve been away for a week, let’s make this episode a little longer than the average. Hope you enjoy it!
Bud joins the family
In early January of 1981 Bud and Elizabeth were on Christmas break and back in Odessa. The first semester had gone well for both of them.
It was a Sunday. Mom and Elizabeth were at church and planned to go shopping after church leaving the house to Kaiser, my Dad and me. That made sense to us as that afternoon the AFC and NFC Championships were being played. It was a typical Odessa winter day, cold but clear, a good day to spend inside.
The Dallas Cowboys were hosting the Philadelphia Eagles for the NFC Championship at 11:30 am. Later in the day, the Oakland Raiders were in San Diego to play the Chargers for the AFC Championship. We were particularly looking forward to the Dallas-Philadelphia game. Both teams had finished tied with 12-4 records in the NFC East division, but Philadelphia had been given the division off of a tiebreaker. Dallas had gone into the playoffs as a wildcard team and had beaten the Los Angeles Rams and the Atlanta Falcons to qualify for the championship. It was the rubber game for the series, as Dallas had lost against the Eagles in Philadelphia and had beaten the Eagles at Dallas in the final game of the regular season.
We were making the final preparations for the games, making sure we had plenty of cheese, crackers, sausage, beer and iced tea for the afternoon, when the door bell rang. I opened the door and found Bud standing there.
“Hey, Drew, is Mr. Remington here?”
“Yeah, he's here.” I was a little surprised by his arrival, forgotten my manners and didn't invite him in.
“Can I talk with him?”
I woke up at that point.
“Oh, sure, sure. Bud, come on in. We're getting ready to watch the Cowboys game.” I looked at my watch and noticed it was 11:15 am. “The game starts at 11:30, and he likes to watch the game right from the start so you better start talking.”
Bud walked in, I closed the door and followed Bud into the living room. My Dad was sitting down, sipping a Coors, munching on a cracker and cheese and watching the pre-game show. Kaiser was happily eating as well so I knew Dad had tossed him a piece of cheese or sausage as Kaiser would not have been pleased with a cracker.
“Hello, Mr. Remington. I was wondering if I could talk to you?”
“Talk quick, game's about to start.”
“Yes, sir, well, you see, sir, I wanted to ask you, well, I wanted to see if you mind... You see, Elizabeth and I have been dating for quite awhile and I was wondering, well, I need to see if you... I need to ask you a question...”
“Damn it, Bud! Get to the point, or else you'll be talking to yourself on the porch while Drew and I are watching the game.”
That didn't give Bud any more confidence. He continued to hem and haw for the next few minutes. I was listening about halfway and by only listening to some of what he was saying I started to guess where he was going. This is what I spliced together from his rambling.
“Mr. Remington... Elizabeth and … I have been dating/seeing/been with each other for a year now.... and … it would have been longer if I had the courage to ask her out sooner... this past semester … we've spent a lot of … time … and I know … how I feel … about her … ask you …”
Ah, shit, I knew what he was trying to do, he was going to ask Dad for his permission to propose to Elizabeth. I was about to say something to help speed things along when my Dad spoke up.
“God damn it, Bud. I told you to get to the point. Now, get to the point or I'll kick your ass out of this house and I don't care how mad my daughter gets mad at me. You hear that, my daughter, she's my daughter.”
Everyone has a turning point in their life, when they show what they are made of, when they decide to either live fully or meekly. At this moment, Bud decided to live fully.
“I understand, sir, I understand she is your daughter. I understand that, and the fact that matters to you is why I'm here. It wouldn't be right for me to do this anyway else. You see, sir, I love Elizabeth. Maybe I loved her from the first moment she talked to me, I don't know. But I do know I love her and as far as I know she loves me. This last semester I've come to realize that she matters more to me than just about anything else. That's why I'm here. I want to ask you for your permission to propose to Elizabeth.”
I had to admit he said it well. I sipped my Coors, wondering if I should really be a witness to this moment but couldn't think of a way to leave without being noticed, and being noticed would sort of defeat the point. Kaiser was a witness too but was more interested in the plate of cheese and sausage that was on the TV tray in front of my Dad. I leaned over and grabbed three pieces of sausage and three pieces of cheese. Kaiser's head tracked my movements and when I tossed the first piece of sausage to him he deftly tracked it, caught it and began chewing it without barely moving. I bit on a piece of sausage waiting for the next act of the play to unfold.
“You came here to ask my permission to propose to my daughter? Well, that's mighty nice of you. But before I answer, let me ask you a question. What are you going to do if I say no?”
My Dad took another sip of Coors, grabbed a piece of sausage and put it in his mouth.
“What's your answer, boy? What are you going to do if I say no?”
It didn't look like Bud expected this. He thought for a moment before he responded.
“Well, sir, if you say no, I'm not sure that changes anything. I still love her and I would still ask her to marry me. I would prefer I had your approval but I plan to marry her, if she will have me.”
Dad nodded, leaned back and took another sip of Coors.
“All right, I like that answer, I do. I wouldn't want a son-in-law that would back down that easy. So, my answer is yes, yes, you have my permission.”
I'm not sure what Bud expected from this meeting. He seemed speechless once again and just stood there for a moment.
“Bud, I'm not stupid. I see things. I've been watching you and my daughter ever since you showed up at our door last year. I like how you treat her. I can tell she cares for you. Now, I do think you're too young to get married, I do, but that doesn't mean it can't work out. That's what it will take, it will take work. Every marriage takes work. But Elizabeth has always been a hard worker so I have faith in her and what I've seen and heard about you, I think you might be a hard worker too. You never needed my permission, but you have it. We raised Elizabeth to be her own person, she's the one who will make the big decisions in her life, not us. I will warn you, don't hurt her. If you ever do and I'm still alive, I will break you, I guarantee it.”
I smiled at that, since I had said almost the same thing to Bud back in August when he and Elizabeth went off to Texas Tech.
“Drew, what do you think? How do you feel about maybe having a brother-in-law?”
“I'm all right with it, but I tell you one thing, the VP Tanks scholarship fund is not open to in-laws, just to blood relatives.”
That seemed to break the tension in the air as both Bud and my Dad laughed at that.
“That's my son, always looking at things from the perspective of money. There are some days when I wonder if he's not my son, but my nephew and really is the banker's son.” My Dad slapped me on the back.
“Bud, you going to sit down and watch the game with us, or are you going to get the hell out of the way? They're about to kickoff and I don't plan to miss a minute of this game.”
Bud sat down and watched the game with us. None of us missed a minute and while the game was paying we didn't speak at all save for grunts, curses and cheers. During the commercial breaks Bud told of his plan to propose to Elizabeth. He had bought a ring and was planning to ask her the next night. He was taking her out to dinner at the Barn Door and would ask her between the main dish and dessert.
The Cowboys lost 20-7 in an ugly game for a Cowboys fan. Bud left once the game ended as he wanted to make sure he was gone before Elizabeth and my Mom returned from shopping. I walked him to the door and wished him good luck.
Elizabeth and my Mom came home during the third quarter of the Raiders/Chargers game. This was a good game so all we did when they came in was grunt at them as we were watching the game closely. We didn't tell either one of them that Bud had come by.
The Raiders won in a close, exciting game and Super Bowl XV was set – the Philadelphia Eagles versus the Oakland Raiders at the Superdome in New Orleans.
Monday I went to work and didn't get home until after 7:00 pm. We had a lot of calls that day and things didn't quiet down until the late afternoon. I had several drawings I had to finish so I worked a little late that evening. Mary Ann and Rick left a few minutes after 6:00 pm, I wrapped things up, turned out the lights and locked the doors right at 7:00 pm.
By the time I got home, Bud had already come by and picked up Elizabeth for their date. Neither Dad or I had said anything about what was going to happen that night to Mom or Elizabeth. Mom and Dad had just finished dinner when I got home. I helped Mom with the dishes while Dad was watching “The White Shadow” on television. We both liked that show while Mom didn't care for it all that much. She did like the rest of the CBS lineup for Monday night: M*A*S*H, House Calls, and finally Lou Grant at 9:00 pm.
Turns out no Lou Grant or House Calls that night. At 8:35 pm, the door burst open and Elizabeth burst in screaming and waving her right hand hand in the air.
“Mom, look, look! He proposed. Look at this ring! I'm getting married!”
She said a lot more but you get the gest of the moment. She had said yes and she was happy. Bud walked in behind here and closed the door. Mom was hugging Elizabeth. Dad was up on his feet and giving Bud a firm handshake, Kaiser was dancing around everyone.
“Welcome to the family, Bud. Have you all thought about a date?”
Bud seemed a little dazed but it was becoming more and more clear to me that he was a planner and had been thinking it all out.
“We're thinking that a May wedding would be good, say a weekend or two after we complete the spring semester. That gives us plenty of time to get everything arranged.”
Dad smiled at that. He liked a man who has a plan.
Mom cried, so did Elizabeth, but there were tears of happiness. I offered Bud a Coors and he graciously accepted it. After a few minutes it was clear the girls had plans to make and things to discuss so Bud excused himself and left for the night. A few minutes after he left Dad and I both decided we might as well go to bed because there was no chance we would get a word in as fast as Elizabeth and Mom were talking. Kaiser chose to stay up with them anticipating some food might come his way as the night wore on. He didn't come to my room until nearly 1:00 am. It had been a long night for him but he seemed happy so I guessed some food did come his way.
The rest of the winter and spring Elizabeth and Mom planned the wedding. Elizabeth was back in Odessa twice a month to work with Mom on the plans. Dad and I stayed out of the way and only helped when we were asked to.
“Drew, there is one thing you need to know about weddings and it is a good thing to know before you go to your own wedding. The wedding is all about the bride. It has nothing to do about the groom. All the groom should do is show up on time clean, shaved and well dressed. He has no say, no opinion, and I pity the damn fool idiot groom who thinks the wedding has anything to do with him. For the men on the sidelines, it is even worse, all we should do is smile, stay out of the way, do what we are told and pull out the checkbook when asked.”
Dad was right, the best thing to do was stay out of the way. Luckily, work kept me busy. Soon the plans were firmly set. The wedding would be at the Saint Paul Presbyterian Church on May 26, 1981 at 6:00 pm. Rick and I would be ushers. Allison McPherson, Elizabeth's best friend since we moved into the house on 11th Street, would be Elizabeth's maid of honor.
For the second year in a row, May was a busy month. This time around the action was centered in Odessa. First off, with the large backlog of work we now had, we were starting to juggle work and actually kept two lines of tank manufacturing going on concurrently. With two lines we now had what was effectively a 260 day backlog. That's how busy things had gotten.
Elizabeth and Bud got married on May 26, 1981. They were both 19 years old. The wedding went off well, Mom and Elizabeth had done a superb job of planning. After the wedding, Bud and Elizabeth drove to the Midland Hilton and stayed the night. The next morning they flew to South Padre Island for their honeymoon. Then they would go back to Lubbock and summer school. They planned to find an apartment the first weekend they were back in Lubbock.
Looking back on Sue and J.T.'s wedding, Andrea's wedding and Elizabeth's wedding I came to a conclusion. The Catholics know how to hold a wedding. Any church where after the wedding I could have a beer in the reception hall next to the chapel was all right by me. In the back of the mind I thought if I ever got religious I would have to take a serious look at the Catholics.
Just one round
The data was maybe showing signs of a weakening oil economy. Nothing serious yet, maybe nothing more than a little burp, just something to keep our eye on over the coming months. The price of oil had dropped from $38.00 to $36.00, our work buffer increased just a little in June after the meteoric rise of the last several months. On the other hand, the rig count kept on climbing and the more rigs there were, the more tanks would be needed.
Bud and Elizabeth were back in Lubbock, found an apartment and were in summer school. Bud's civil engineering curriculum practically demanded going to school in the summers and Elizabeth's double major in Education and English kept her busy too.
Rick and I finished up nearly every week at VP Tanks with a Sunday round of golf at Golden Acres. We usually headed out for the course as soon as Rick got back from church on Sundays. By no later than 1:00 pm we would be out on the course.
We viewed it as a business meeting, a chance to close out the previous week and prepare for the next week. Yes, a business meeting, which meant we wrote off the green fees, the burgers and the beer. There was no cart to write off as we both liked to walk the course.
We had been doing this for awhile when my Dad asked about our weekly game. Next thing I know he decided that he and Uncle Bill were going to join us on our next Sunday game. That caught me off guard for two reasons: I didn't know he played golf and I wasn't used to spending much time with my Dad. But there was no good coming out of me telling him no.
The next Sunday Rick and I rode out together and my Dad rode out with Uncle Bill. We pulled into the caliche parking lot of Golden Acres. The dust rose up into the sky as we came to a stop near the clubhouse. Uncle Bill's gleaming white Cadillac DeVille took on a dusty tan as the caliche settled. Rick and I grabbed our golf bags from Rick's trunk. Uncle Bill pulled out a fancy golf bag out of his trunk, the stainless steel of his irons glaring in the sun. My Dad watched us as we put on our golf shoes. He was wearing a pair of Keds sneakers.
“Mr. Remington, you didn't bring any clubs or golf shoes?”
“No, Rick, I didn't. I don't have any golf clubs or shoes anymore. Figure I'll play with Bill's set. As for shoes, I'll just try to avoid swinging too hard.”
The three of us carried our golf bags to the front door of the clubhouse. Rick and I dropped our bags to the ground, the irons clanking as a little dust rose up. Uncle Bill's bag was big and stable enough that it would stand on its own and that's what it did. We walked into the clubhouse. Just inside Pete Moore was waiting to take our money.
“Hello, boys, right on time today I see.” He always had a comment if we were running early, late or on time on Sundays.
“Hello, Pete, it's been a while.” That was my Dad speaking.
Pete looked at my Dad for a moment as if he was trying to place the face, then a broad smile went across his face.
“Well, God damn, it's Gene. I haven't seen you in years. How the hell are you?” Pete came walking around the register, stuck out his hand. My dad took his hand, and the two shook hard, ending with a couple of slaps on the back.
Pete then looked at Uncle Bill. “Hmm, Bill, good to see you too. How are things at OCC?”
“Pete, good to see you. Things are going great at the country club. My handicap is down to a 12.”
“Are they still mowing the rough? I don't mow the rough here at all.”
Uncle Bill laughed. “Yes, they're still mowing the rough. I'll let them know you asked.”
With that little bit of conversation over Pete turned and looked down the clubhouse, towards the eating and card playing area of the clubhouse. “Nettie, come here, see who the wind brought in.” Pete called out to his wife, who was sitting down at one of the tables. A serious gin game (there was not any other kind of gin game at Golden Acres) was being played. A few seconds passed before she looked up from her hand only to see my Dad and Pete walking towards her.
When Mrs. Moore recognized my Dad, she screamed in joy, which seemed completely out of place for someone like Mrs. Moore, who was as refined as one could be at a hard scrabble golf course.
“Gene, Gene Remington, you old cuss. Where have you been all these years?”
She stood up and gave my Dad a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Oh, you know, trying to make a living and keeping a step ahead of the tax man. Haven't had time to make my way here.”
Several minutes passed as my Dad, Pete and Mrs. Moore swapped stories, asked questions and caught up on the years. Larry Dean, Pete and Mrs. Moore's youngest son, walked up. Pete introduced him to my Dad and the laughter started up all over again.
“Damn, Larry Dean, why I haven't seen you since you were so high.” My Dad held his hand just a little below Larry Dean's shoulder. “That must have been fifteen, maybe twenty years ago.”
Rick was taking it all in. “Drew, you never mentioned that your Dad knew Pete and Mrs. Moore.”
“I didn't mention it because I didn't know.”
About that time, my Dad was pointing at me. Pete and Mrs. Moore had a look of surprise on their face, then a look of stern joy. The three of them walked over to Uncle Bill, Rick and me, still standing by the cash register.
“Drew, I can't believe you never told me you were Gene's son. Why, I ought to bend you over and give you the spanking of a lifetime.”
My Dad chuckled at Mrs. Moore's threat. “I've been tempted to do it myself once or twice these last few years, but as you can see, he is as big as me. Don't know if I could still do it.”
I felt like I had suddenly dropped into a reunion for a family I didn't know I was a part of.
“Drew, the stories this one could tell you. Oh, we had some good times, didn't we, Gene?”
“Yes, sir, Pete, we sure did. But I don't think the boys are that interested in hearing about the past. They came out to play some golf and I did too. Any chance you might have some clubs I could borrow?”
“Hell, yes, I've got some clubs. I'll let you borrow mine. They ought to work for you. When was the last time you swung a club?”
“Last time I was out here, that must have been fifteen, twenty years ago.”
Pete looked sternly at Rick and I for a moment before he started smiling again. “Boys, you need to take it easy on old folks like Gene, Bill and me.” He looked out the window at the carts parked outside waiting for players. “Gene, you and Bill take cart 35, the green fees and cart are on me.”
Well, that just about caused my jaw to drop to the ground. Pete was a thrifty man, he didn't give too many things away and to give two green fees and a cart was something I had never seen.
Larry Dean came walking out of the locker room carrying Pete's tour pro bag, a monstrous thing, too heavy for anyone to carry for long. He carried it out the front door and strapped it on to cart 35. He then picked up Uncle Bill's bag and strapped it onto the cart.
“That'll be five bucks for each of you, boys.”
Rick and I each gave Pete a five dollar bill and Pete rang up the sale. Yeah, Pete was not known for giving too many things away. We picked up our score cards and pencils and walked out into the sun.
I'm guessing that Uncle Bill normally warms up by hitting some range balls because he complained about how stiff he was and how could he expect to play up to his handicap without warming up properly. Dad just shushed him. Rick and I didn't waste time on range balls. Rick warmed up by taking a few hard swings with a driver. I warmed up by gripping and swinging two irons (giving me sort of a weighted club). The last thing I would do is hold an iron in one hand and make wide swinging circles until the shoulder quit popping, then I would do the same with the other shoulder. Dad took an iron, placed it behind his back, looping his elbows around the shaft and made several windmill turns.
The first hole at Golden Acres has a slight dogleg to the right, with a sand bunker about 250 yards out on the right edge of the fairway and a water trap guarding the right front of the green. There was also out of bounds on the right as the hole ran against the driving range. The hole from the back tees was about 375 yards long. The smart play was a draw down the right edge of the fairway, leaving one with a short iron to the green.
“What are we playing for? It might make the day more fun if there was something at stake, what do you think, Gene?”
“I don't know, Bill. It's been a long time since I've played, much less played with something on the line.” My Dad paused for a moment before he spoke again. “If we do play for something, I would think that these young boys ought to give us some strokes, considering our age and all.”
“I don't think we need any strokes. I think once the pressure is on these two will fold right up. I say we make it interesting. We'll play even, best ball, five dollar Nassau, one dollar skins, automatic double downs on both nines and the eighteen. What do you think, boys? You could make a lot of money off us old men.”
Rick was taking the bait “Man, we could pick up a few bucks. I mean, your Dad hasn't played in years and I don't think your uncle is all that good. We should take the bet.”
I winced for two reasons. This was the same kind of bet that Larry Dean and I got cleaned out on several years ago. Double downs and skins can turn a game around real quick and the right shot at the right time can beat a consistent, steady game. The second reason I winced was because Rick was taking the bait.
“Rick, we could win some money, but we could lose a lot.”
“So what are you two boys going to do? Take the bet or just play around?”
I thought for a moment and then said “We'll make a bet, just not that bet. I'm okay with the Nassau, but no double downs and we'll play standard skins. Don't want to take too much money from our banker, after all, he might give us some bad advice to get back at us.”
My Dad smiled at that and said “Drew, sounds like a bet. Let's do it.” We all shook hands.
We flipped for who would go first. Uncle Bill won the honors, followed by Rick, then Dad and me bringing up the rear.
Uncle Bill steered a decent shot down the left middle of the fairway about two hundred yards out. Rick, playing to his slice/fade, aimed way left and hit a hard fade that moved across the fairway, ending up in the right rough about 230 yards out. Dad was next. He swung stiffly and cold topped his shot. It bounced down the fairway about fifty yards right down the middle The shot was bad, the swing did look stiff and a little rusty, but there was something in it that held promise.
“Gene, go ahead and hit a mulligan. Let's consider that a warmup.”
“No, let's not. We're playing golf, not some country club bullshit. By the way, in case anyone didn't know we're playing the ball down, fairways and rough.”
That kicked the game up a notch. Normally, one played winter rules as there were some bare spots in the fairway on some of the holes. Winter rules meant you could nudge the ball in the fairway a few inches to a good lie. Playing it down meant no guarantee of a good lie, even in the fairway.
It was my turn to drive. I was nervous, I could feel my stomach growling. I pulled a two iron out of my bag and teed the ball up. About the only holes I used a wood off the tee were the par fives or one of the really short par 4s if the wind was with me. On the other holes, I figured a well struck iron or fairway wood in the fairway beat a possibly longer drive in the rough.
I setup to hit a draw out over the right edge of the rough and back into the fairway. I made a good swing, had good contact, but blocked the ball, hitting a dead push right. The ball landed in the rough, just past and to the right of the fairway bunker.
Uncle Bill and Dad got in their cart and drove down the fairway. Rick and I grabbed our bags and started walking down the right edge of the freeway. It didn't take long for them to get to Dad's ball. He got out, selected a fairway wood, took a practice swing and stared down the freeway. This time the swing looked a little smoother, but he still hit it thin. The ball went straight down the fairway and rolled and rolled, ending up about 100 yards from the green. Uncle Bill hit an iron about 10 yards to the left of the green. Rick went next and hit a soaring slice that ended up in the water trap just short of the green. I had a decent lie in the sand and hit an 8 iron just off the back edge of the green.
Dad hit a 9 iron into the middle of the green. Uncle Bill near whiffed his third shot, trying to hit a cute pitch when a bump and run would have been far better. Rick was out of the hole. I chipped up to five feet. Dad three putted from 15 feet for a 6, running the first putt 8 feet past the hole. Uncle Bill got his fourth shot onto the green, but was still playing it too cute and two putted for a six. I missed my five footer and made bogey, but still won the hole.
With the honors I teed off first on number two, a dogleg left about 400 yards long. No push this time, just a nice hook that put me in the left rough. Uncle Bill put it in the fairway about 200 yards out. Dad pulled his tee shot, but wound up on the edge of the fairway about 220 yards out. Rick split the fairway with me, hitting a lovely slice/fade into the right rough. Uncle Bill tried to be brave and hit a 3 wood to the green. It bounced about 75 yards down the fairway. Dad hit another thin shot, but this one bounced up about 10 yards short of the green. Rick managed to hit it even further right. Out of the left rough I hit the ball straight, no draw and wound up on the right edge of the green, behind a mound. Uncle Bill and Rick played themselves out of the hole and picked up their balls. Dad chipped the ball onto the green about 12 feet from the pin. I decided to play a bump and run into the mound and played it as good as I could. The ball bumped into the mound, took a nice hop into the air, dropped on the green and rolled down to three feet. Dad was away and putted first. He still didn't have the feeling of the greens, this time leaving himself four feet short. He ran his bogey putt along the left edge of the hole and about a foot past. The pressure was off me and I sank my par putt. Rick and I had won the first two skins making us two dollars up and we had a three stroke lead in the Nassau.
Number three is a par three, about 165 yards in length. I had the honors and hit a looping hook well into the left rough. I was pissed but tried not to show it. Dad hit a middle iron on the right edge of the green. Uncle Bill hit a screamer, dead straight and forty yards short of the green. Rick must have liked that as he hit nearly the exact same shot. I grabbed my bag and walked quickly into the left rough. I was even with the hole forty yards to the left with a shitty lie with the ball in between two small sand mounds. Rick and Uncle Bill both scraped their balls on the green, but were a long way from the hole. I tried to hit my ball cleanly but picked up too much sand and my ball made it about halfway to the green. My third shot still caught too much sand and ended up on the left edge of the green. I was steaming, three shots and still not on the green with Uncle Bill on the green in two and Dad just off the green in one. Dad hit a Texas wedge with his putter. He had the line, but his shot rolled five feet past the hole. I looked over my shot carefully, but was so pissed that in my mind I was imaging all of the dreadful things I was going to do to the ball if it didn't go in. With a seven iron I hit a good, no, a great chip, the ball walked towards the hole and with the last roll, dropped into the hole for a bogey. Uncle Bill, Rick and my Dad all missed their par putts and we managed to tie the hole.
Number four is a double dogleg, first to the right and then to the left, 575 yard par five. Having the honors I hit a nice drive down the fairway. Dad followed right behind me, but about thirty yards shorter. Uncle Bill and Rick both decided to visit the right rough. By the time we got to the green, I was lying three on the green with a fifteen footer for birdie. Dad was just off the edge of the green in three and Rick and Uncle Bill were trying to escape making double bogeys. It was becoming obvious to me that this was a match between my Dad and me. Uncle Bill and Rick weren't adding anything to the match. Dad got it up and down, and I missed my birdie putt. We both ended up with pars. Through four holes Rick and I had won the first two skins and were three strokes ahead in the Nassau.
Rick, my Dad and I went inside to get a beer while Uncle Bill waited in the cart. As we walked out with our beers (I was carrying two, one for Uncle Bill) Pete pulled my Dad aside. Rick and I walked on out the door but as we turned to head for the tee I could see out of the corner of my eye that Pete was giving Dad a quick lesson.
It must have been a good lesson as my Dad ran off four straight pars. Standing on the ninth tee with the honors, my Dad had tied the Nassau up. I double bogied number six to my Dad's par and lost a four hole skin, putting Dad and Uncle Bill up two skins. Number nine could be a good hole with the Nassau up for grabs and a three hole skin. Dad ran his string of pars to five straight and I somehow managed to knock knee a twisting 12 footer to save par, win the front nine Nassau and avoid losing two more skins. I had shot a 39 for the front nine. My Dad had shot a 40, not bad for someone who hadn't played in 15 years. Rick and Uncle Bill? Well, let's just say I doubted that 12 handicap Uncle Bill said he had.
After burgers in the clubhouse we moved onto the back nine. I had number ten in my hand, sitting on the green in two with a twenty foot birdie putt and my Dad scrambling to get on the green in three. I butchered my first putt, running it five feet past the hole. I two putted from there and ended up with a bogie. Dad two putted and we tied the hole. I walked off the green pissed.
Number 11 is a dead straight par 4, 385 yards long with out of bounds on the far left. Dad still had the honors after my three jack on ten and he hit a decent drive along the left edge of the freeway about 220 yards. I was next and was still pissed. I murdered a four wood, pured it, put every bit of anger into it and the ball soared straight down the fairway, hit the ground and rolled past the 100 yard marker in the middle of the freeway.
“Damn, you put all your piss in that one. Nice shot, son. That's how to channel your anger.”
Uncle Bill managed to find the fairway and amazingly Rick this time hit a hard hook and we all watched as his ball soared out of bounds.
“I've never seen anyone so attracted to trouble on the golf course. You're like a magnet to out of bounds, water and sand.”
“Thanks, Mr. Remington, appreciate the compliment.”
“Anytime, anytime, good thing you've got another way to make a living other than golf.”
Uncle Bill and Dad rode down the fairway. Rick walked with me, there wasn't much hope in finding his ball out beyond the fences. Dad put his shot on the green about thirty feet from the pin. Uncle Bill ended up about ten yards short of the green. My drive was right at 93 yards from the green. The pin was in the left middle of the green. I chose a wedge, looked at the hole and could see the ball in my mind bouncing around the hole. I hit the ball cleanly and held my finish as the ball came to a stop three feet to the left of the hole. Dad putted first and left the ball short. I made my birdie and gave him his par putt. That meant we had won a five hole skin, putting us up three skins and had a 1 stroke lead for the back nine and eighteen Nassau. Walking off the 11th, I felt pretty damn good.
The next four holes were either boring or exciting depending on your perspective. Dad and I parred number 12, a short par three and number 13, a 360 yard par 4. Uncle Bill and Rick continued to play their own game. Number 14 is a double dogleg par five, about 525 yards long. I wound on the green in three with a 20 foot birdie putt. Dad had missed the green and had a 10 footer for par. We both missed, I parred, he bogied, and Rick and I won another three skins.
In what must have been well against the odds, all four of us parred the 15th, a 370 yard par four.
Number 16 is a longish par three, about 200 yards long from the back tees. I managed to scramble for a par, but Dad bogied it.
I hit a beautiful drive on number 17, just pured it. Dad blocked his tee shot off to the right. He moved his ball down the fairway and was about 20 yards short of the green lying two on the par 4. I only had 130 yards to the pin, but blocked the shot and ended thirty feet from the pin. Dad pitched to eight feet from the pin. I left my first put four feet short. Dad missed his par putt and I could win the hole by making my four footer. I missed it, pulling the putt two inches to the left. We tied 17 with a bogey fives.
I was just as pissed as I had been on number 11 and once again hit a great drive, leaving myself 90 yards from the green. Dad pushed his ball into the right rough. He managed a solid second shot, just falling short of the green. I walked up to my ball, saw that it looked like my second shot on number 11 and used that memory to hit this shot. I hit exactly the same shot. Only problem I was 90 yards out, not 93. My ball landed and came to a stop 9 feet past the pin. Dad missed his par putt, I missed my birdie and we were done. We tallied up the numbers. Playing best ball Nassau, Rick and I ended up with a 39 on the front nine, 37 on the back nine for a total of 76, which happens to be what I shot that day. Uncle Bill and Dad shot 40 on the front and 40 on the back for a total of 80, which happened to be what Dad shot for the day. Rick and I had won the entire Nassau and that was worth $15 a piece. We had won 14 skins, including every skin on the back nine to four skins won, all on the front nine, by Uncle Bill and Dad. That meant a net 10 skins at $1 a piece. Add it all up, Rick and I each had won $25. Personally I thought Rick owed me a big piece of his $25 as he didn't help at all that day. He didn't see it that way, pointing out that he provided much needed moral support all along the way.
Looking back on this I think exhaustion might have had something to do with our victory. Rick and I were used to walking 18 holes or more every weekend while Uncle Bill and my Dad weren't. In my Dad's cases he wasn't used to swinging the club and over the last few holes might have gotten worn out. In other words, he wasn't in golf shape. Looking at his scores over the last several holes it sure seemed like he hit the wall. He had a nice run of pars, then bogeyed four of the last five holes.
Now, I will admit that shooting an 80 with someone else's clubs after not having played in 15 years was damn impressive. What was more impressive was how good at pool both Dad and Uncle Bill were. After we finished up on 18 we went back in the clubhouse. Uncle Bill ordered a round of Coors and we sat down. After a few minutes Uncle Bill got up to go to the rest room and when he came back casually asked if anyone was interested in a game of pool. We took the bait, figuring that since Rick and I played pool at least once a week we had an advantage over both of them so when Uncle Bill slyly suggested a small wager of $5.00 a game we took it. Actually, that was a pretty big wager, but we had $25.00 of someone else's money in our pockets so we were confident.
An hour and a half later Rick owed my Uncle Bill $10 and I owed Dad $10. We had been hustled, plain and simple. Pete watched the last game as my Dad called the 8 ball in the corner pocket and sank it and said “It's been a long time since I've seen the Remington brothers hustling.”
“Yeah, Pete, it has been awhile. Never figured I would hustle my own son, but it just sort of felt natural. He played a good game of golf, but he got cocky, thinking us old folks couldn't hold a cue to him and Rick. Today reminds me of the old days, when one could pick up a few bucks shooting pool, on the links and shuffling cards. Sort of forgot how much fun it could be.”
“Same here.” said Uncle Bill.
This time Pete talked to Rick and me.
“Boys, you could learn a lot about gambling from these two. They may not be the best I've ever seen, but they were damn good in their prime. And together? It just seems that when they get together they will figure out a way to win in the end, sort of like today.”
I felt a little foolish. I thought I knew my Dad and Uncle Bill rather well. I sure didn't expect them to know how to gamble and hustle. I sure as hell didn't think I would get hustled by them. I sort of liked to think I knew people. That by watching them I figured out who they were, but I was continually reminded how little I knew of the people around me. Rick surprised me with his ruthlessness in dealing with the thugs, he surprised me with his knowledge of the bible, he surprised me with his vision for VP Tanks. My Dad just kept surprising me. He had been a boxer, a golfer and from what I could tell damn good at both, he was a hustler. Uncle Bill? Who the hell would have thought that Uncle Bill was a hustler as well. I wondered who was going to surprise me next.
I didn't know it then, but that was the only round of golf I ever played with my Dad.
Author’s note
Similar to Drew, my dad Warren Eugene Akins, was a serious golfer but had quit the game before my first memories. Similar to Drew my Dad and I only played one round together. In the “real” world we played that one round in 1984 in Freeport, Texas.
Next week in Episode 16 Rick and Drew learn of Uncle Bill’s plans for their financial future and things get real crazy at VP Tanks.