Should I Wait?

-
We were on the 17th hole.

Patience was wearing thin.

Before each drive, Johnny would look off into the distance and see the group in front of us pulling the pin on the green some 400 yards away.

"Should I wait until they're done?" He'd ask.

"Hit the ball!" Chuck and I would yell in unison.

Following what would be a dribbler that would send Johnny and Sam into fits of laughter, Johnny would turn to walk away.

"Pick up your tee!" I would yell out.

18 times I told him to grab his special tee.

(It's there in his mouth in the photo).

And I look dumbfounded in the photo because just before he took it he said:

"My phone doesn't work."

I was trying to figure out what he was doing wrong.

He snapped the photo.

Yet, the 17th hole was the one that got me.

I was seated in the cart...

...very physically worn.

Johnny was right in front of me, lining up his shot.

I watched the placement of his club. He actually had the ball centered in his stance. He had the right club. He looked to be lining it up perfectly.

"Head stays down," I said for the 400th time.

Then I waited.

And waited.

Eyes never leaving the spot where his club would meet the ball.

Waited some more.

Finally looked up at him...

...and he was smiling menacingly, with two raised eyebrows.

"Hit the ball!" I said, laughing.

He was simply standing there, doing it all right, waiting for me to glance up so that he could laugh.

I did laugh, but my heart jumped straight to my throat.

There were so many moments when he pulled the exact same antics as Jeff.

Neither Sam or Johnny were good.

It didn't bother either one of them in the least.

Sam took four swings at a ball, never moving it an inch.

"Getting prepared," he said after each missed stroke and then the two of them would be crippled in laughter.

The more he missed the harder they laughed.

The laughter echoed all along the fairways of the same course that I had played hundreds of times with my brother...

...who was always looking to make us laugh.

"Did you have fun?" I asked the boys as we headed towards home.

"The not talking when other people are swinging is bullshit," Johnny said.

That about sums up our day.

My back aches, and my legs are buzzing, to be sure...

...but other muscles also hurt from non-use...

...the ab and face muscles from laughing that had been a forgotten part of my game.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Suits

-
Like a lot of other people we got pulled into the series, ‘Suits’ on Netflix. I’ve never had much fun hanging around lawyers who have questioned me as a construction safety officer. I once testified in a case where the opposing lawyer started questioning me by going through my educational background. “So,” he said, racing to a crescendo, “You graduated from college with a degree in Communications-Journalism and suddenly, 30 years later, you’re a ‘safety expert.’” He actually made the quotation marks with his fingers. I just looked at him. “How does that happen?” He bellowed, sure that he was going to discredit me. “Well,” I said. “I knew I was overqualified to become a lawyer.” The courtroom erupted in laughter. Even the judge chuckled. The rest of his questions landed flat. So, I wasn’t all that keen on a show about lawyers, but ‘Suits’ is great. Meghan Markle became a princess because of the show, and she is very good in it (and a beautiful woman). Yet, there is so much more. The wri
Read more

My Buddy, Dave

-
Way back in 1997, I started working with a steel erection company out of Syracuse. I was coming straight from a long stint with a steel erector here in Buffalo so I knew my stuff when it came to steel erection safety rules. On day one, I met with the safety director and he was just getting started as a safety guy, but man, he certainly cared about the guys he worked with. Dave was a good man from the start. He’d say things like: “You’re so full of beans.” Just a down to earth, hardworking guy who became a fast friend. We drove all around New York State setting up jobs. I always let Dave drive so that I could rest. One fine day, way up North of Syracuse, we passed a state trooper.  I glanced at the speedometer. “You’re screwed,” I said, and seconds later, the lights came on. Dave was beside himself.  The cop stopped by the window, grabbed the license and registration and headed back to his vehicle. “Here’s the thing,” I said. “You’re pissed, but you’re such a good guy that I bet you tha
Read more

Mom & Ollie

-
Image
 Ollie Stadium is a mess. The heavy rains rendered the backyard a mud pit and even though we threw in the side yard, the Big O was looking for more, and we were both covered in mud. I had to take some steam out of him somehow so I suggested we go visit Grandma. Ollie hates the car, but he laid quietly as we made the trip. We even brought the football because there is plenty of room to play at Grandma’s. Mom opened the door and started laughing. I thought about the love she had for every single dog we ever had. Oliver was quick to give my Mom a kiss, and then he stood beside her. The love between Mom and Dogs is a mutual bond. Through the years, Mom would make breakfast for the dogs.  Fried eggs, toast, bacon… She would wrap Christmas gifts for them. “To Jeter, Love Santa,” she would write on the cards. They played with the big chicken that made a lot of noise. Mom tossed the football and Ollie brought it back to her. As the visit drew to a close I headed for the door.  “C’mon, Oliver,”
Read more