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Carefully he examines his 15 foot putt from 10 angles. Finally he pulls the trigger and blows the putt 12 feet past the hole. Lining up again he sends it 8 feet past. This guy has hands like Hormel Hams and the sensitive touch of a hockey fight.
Mr. Golf Joke spends the whole round reeling off one joke after another. His recall is amazing.
Fred got home from his Sunday round of golf later than normal and very tired. "Bad day at the course?" his wife asked.
"Everything was going fine," he said. "Then Harry had a heart attack and died on the 10th tee."
"Oh, that's awful!"
"You're not kidding. For the whole back nine it was hit the ball, drag Harry, hit the ball, drag Harry.
He can go from a long, story type joke to a short one liner faster than a Nick Price swing.
I told my friend I got a set of Callaways for my wife and he said, "Nice Trade."
At first it is entertaining but by the fifth hole you are ready for his show to be cancelled.
Giant Visor Lady has a visor that is 43 times bigger than her head and expands out from her forehead like an awning. I believe the idea is to keep the sun from ever hitting her face. You could keep the sun off half of a Western state with that visor. Sometimes you get several Giant Visor Ladies in one foursome- when they get to the green they cannot move without cutting each other.
Unlike Mr. Golf Joke who remembers thousands of jokes, I Can't Remember Golf Jokes Guy starts jokes with aplomb but is soon lost.
"Tiger, Arnie and St. Peter are teeing off. Wait, I mean Tiger, Jack, and God are teeing off.....wait......"
Ben Hogan worships at the Church of Ben Hogan-- he has every book,video or filmstrip created by Mr. Hogan. He has a tattered 25-year-old paperback copy of 'Five Lessons: The Modern Fundamentals of Golf' in his golf bag which he refers to between each shot. He is using a set of Ben Hogan blades his dad bought for him in 1968 and he has used ever since. After the round is over he will sit on the golf discussion boards and pontificate about Hogan's secret and the correct use of pronation.
He is the first to hit his drive. Rather than wait for everyone to hit, Mr. Walk Ahead is off to the races, walking along the tree line to his ball. Later in the round you will start to hit an approach shot when you notice Mr. Walk Ahead is actually up on the green.
He doesn't seem to be watching so you yell "Fore!" or "Heads Up!"
He waves impatiently as if to say, "go ahead and hit, I see you."
So you do just that, wondering to yourself why someone in your own foursome is standing on the green when everyone else is 150 yards out.
He's the last to putt so he has had plenty of time to fix ball marks or stray pebbles in his line. But he waits until it is his turn to putt. All of a sudden he is walking up and down the line, taking a survey of every blade of grass between his ball and the hole, leaning down to stab the green with his ball mark tool or to sweep the ground with his hand. This goes on for 20 minutes while you recalculate your quarterly taxes in your head.
Quickly he pulls the five iron out of his bag. Looking again at the yardage he puts back the five iron and pulls the four iron. After a couple of nice practice swings he settles in to his shot. Looks at the flag. Looks down. Stands up, walks bag to the bag. Might really need a hybrid, he decides. Walks back to the ball with his 3 hybrid. Checks the wind by throwing grass in the air. Settles in. Stands up. Maybe it is a five wood, he thinks. No. Definitely the hybrid. He slashes down at the ball with the hybrid and shoots it over the green into a condo complex.
After hitting his drive, he begins the search for his tee. However, the tee has decided to make itself scarce. It must be made of gold and silver because Gotta Find My Tee Guy is making ever broader search circles trying to rescue it.
Mr. Stand in the Tee Box has hit his drive, watched it land in the trees, and continues to stand in place talking to himself about what he did wrong on the shot. You are standing behind waiting to hit. He is muttering and doing a slow motion replay of his swing to see where it broke down.
Golfers are charged with repairing their ball marks, the indentation the ball makes when it hits the green. Left untouched a ball mark becomes a brown scar. Some golfers are less than attentive to this duty. Greenskeeper Guy has made it his personal mission in life to right this wrong. He will repair his ball mark and 47 more. As you reach to repair your own mark, suddenly he is there with his special tool, saying "I got it."
Blades are thin, knife-like golf clubs favored by better golfers. Mr. Real Men Play Blades looks down on disdain on anybody playing perimeter-weighted game-improvement clubs, which is to say 99% of golfers.
With huge brand name logos on his hat, shirt, shirt sleeve, belt, slacks and shoes, he looks like a NASCAR driver who crashed into the pro shop.
Ms. Alignment is very concerned with aligning every molecule of her body before beginning her swing. She stands next to the ball and presses the club across her shoulders as she looks toward the target. Next she holds the club across her thighs and rechecks the target. Light is slipping away as she holds the club at arms length like a weight bar, checking that her feet and toes are aligned. Satisfied, she lashes at the ball and drives it straight into a house.
All day you will hear a color commentary of your game followed by the catchphrase "No pressure." Sometimes they are just trying to be funny, other times they are setting up the betting, or at times they are just being a dork.
You line up your putt. He says, "You've missed this putt all day but you need to make this one for your par. No pressure."
You step into a shot. "Looks like you are 150 yards out and you really need a cut shot here but you don't have that in your bag. No pressure."
You are in the rough in the trees. "Well you could go over the top but it's risky but going under the branches is worse. No pressure."
Frozen in Time Gal has settled in to hit a shot. Soon she will hit the ball. Any. Time. Now. There she goes. Nope. Still frozen. She's thinking. About something. Here she goes. Nope. She still hasn't moved. Maybe she died in her golf shoes and her body went into rigor mortis. Wait. I saw a flicker of life. Now she's got it! Nope, false alarm. Just a waggle. My mind is wandering now. I need to pick up milk on the way home.
Over-The-Top Reaction Guy lines up quietly for a putt. When it misses the hole he runs around the green making loud choking noises while laughing uncontrollably and looking up at the sky with hands outstretched. The ball has rolled six feet past the hole which leaves him still away. At first, the other golfers wait to see if he is going to return to the game. Noticing that he is now dancing around the fringe flailing his arms and repeatedly yelling, "That's insane!", they decide to putt out without him.
Overbearing Husband Instructor Guy is out with his wife who is learning the game. Rather than spring for lessons he has named himself her pro. She seems rather quiet the whole time. All is low-key until she misses a putt on the fourth green.
"NO, I said aim HERE!" he yells, pointing at a brown spot surrounded by fifty other brown spots.
Later she chunks a three-wood which skitters 30 yards along the grass. He shoots forward in the cart without her and stomps on the brakes near her ball. As she walks up he yells, "NO! That's not what I showed you!"
Mr. Multi-Bet isn't happy unless there are 9 bets and games going on at the same time.
"OK, Sam got a Sandie and Ben got a Greenie. Ben was Wolf on that one and also completed the Bingo Bango Bongo. Our side got the Nassau on the back and the 18. I used up all my Criers and Whiners and missed the putt. Jimbo got two, count em, TWO, Barkies which I've never seen. We did a Double Secret Probation Press and you guys countered with the Houston We Have A Problem. All told, you owe us $457,000."
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