Author: Head Nut

Inspiring Story About Someone Who is Actually Growing the Game

At the recent Met Golf Writers Association National Awards Dinner, Mary Bea Porter-King (right) was joined by two of her great friends in golf — Pete Kowalski, a longtime communications official with the USGA, and Dottie Pepper, who was honored with the group’s Gold Tee Award.

Mary Bea Porter-King is a much-needed reminder that golf has heroes

Jim McCabe, Power Fades

Should selflessness and golf be two cherished components to the world in which you live, then these are turbulent times. Depressing, perhaps. Definitely sad. Greed is running rampant, which stinks, but we can handle that. It’s the disingenuity that sickens us.

What to do? A few deep breaths are highly recommended. Then wrap your emotions around a role model who embodies all that is wonderful about living life to help others and having a pure passion for golf that has never been corrupted.

May I suggest Mary Bea Porter-King. Her life story, her continued dignity, her sense of proper life structure. All of it inspires, but any mention of this marvelous woman begs for a flashback to that March day in 1988 when Mary Bea reacted to a badly-played golf shot in a way that still captivates our attention.

She ignored her ball, which was well off the fairway, and instead went rushing when she saw a 3-year-old boy floating in a swimming pool on property abutting Moon Valley CC in Phoenix. With help from her caddie, Porter was up and over a 6-foot fence and within seconds was helping revive a young boy by the name of Jonathan Smucker.

Stop the story there and Mary Bea Porter-King is a hero. She saved another person’s life, an overwhelmingly impactful reality when you consider it was a 3-year-old child who would have died had it not been for her selflessness.

But there is much more to her story, including what in tarnation Porter-King was even doing at Moon Valley that day. At 38 she was no longer exempt on the LPGA, but the passion for competition led her to that qualifier for the Samaritan Turquoise Classic in Phoenix, where she lived. (A year later she moved to Hawaii and Kaua‘i has been home ever since.)

“She was trying to balance playing and being a mom to a young son on the road,” said Dottie Pepper, who was a 23-year-old rookie on the LPGA in 1988. “She had the motor home, child, dogs – all of it.”

Pepper remembers being in the locker room that day when the incredible life-saving incident took place. She had already been befriended by Porter-King and clearly Pepper was in awe of what her fellow professional had done.

But there is so much more as to why Pepper looks at Porter-King as “a role model in so many ways.”

There have been all those years of looking at the big picture and creating ways for others to enjoy golf, the incomparable manner in which she helped build an impressive junior golf program in Hawaii, no easy feat when you consider that you’re navigating four islands for “state-wide” tournaments. Her volunteer work with the U.S. Golf Association, being a board member with the PGA of America, running national tournaments like the upcoming Ladies National Golf Association Amateur Championship in St. Louis, and serving as one of two officials overseeing Team USA’s participation in the hugely popular Palmer Cup, a team tournament that just concluded in Geneva, Switzerland.

Substantial and quantitative, all of her contributions back to golf, and at 72, Mary Bea Porter-King is more passionate, more influential, and more needed than ever. She truly is helping to “grow the game,” which is why her thoughts matter when it comes to what is going on in this LIV business.

No surprise, she is saddened.

“I read something about how these players will promote the game,” said Porter-King. “Are you kidding? How is this better for the game? They are brain-washing them, giving them talking points.”

They are also giving them gobs and gobs of money, which would be fine and good if players conceded they were in it for the money. They don’t. They hide behind this silliness about “growing the game” and Porter-King, speaking for herself and for so many colleagues who truly pour efforts into golf at the grassroots level, is offended.

To Porter-King, who lives on Kaua‘i with her husband, Charlie, the rewards for her efforts have always been gained by the way in which Hawaii junior golfers have used the game to great benefit. Michelle Wie is well known, of course, and Kimberly Kim won a U.S. Women’s Amateur, but Porter-King is equally proud of Allisen Corpuz, a rookie on the LPGA, and Dr. Miki Ueoka, who attended Kaua‘i High School, then starred at the UCal-Santa Barbara and is an internal medicine specialist in Honolulu.

“These girls loved to play, they got educations,” said Porter-King. “I’m always running into someone who learned to play in our program and it’s so rewarding to see their success.

“Golf is a gift that was given to me and it’s an honor to give it back.”

There is a “relentless resilience” within Porter-King, said Pepper. “She’s the standard for doing things the right way.”

Anyone who has had the pleasure to meet Porter-King would wholeheartedly agree.

Thirty-four years ago, Porter-King did things in a heroic way and while it was over-the-top inspirational the day she saved Smucker’s life, the story has only been enriched through the years by the special bond they share.

“He’s now 38 and has four children,” said Porter-King. “But in 2019, before COVID and when there were only three children, I flew Jonathan and his wife to Kaua‘i for a vacation. It was so much fun. He’s a wonderful young man.”

Porter-King laughs.

“Crazy story, I know. But it’s the best bad shot I ever hit.” Fortunately for golf, she has been on target ever since.

God Bless Mary Bea Porter-King. She has her priorities in order. – The Head Nut

An Amazing Story

The following letter arrived in my email inbox yesterday, June 27, 2022, and was such a heartwarming, emotional story that I wanted to share it with you…

An 18-Hole Love Affair

Why I Love Golf

by Richard Gudzan

If you’re a golfer, have you ever pondered why you spend so much time chasing a little white ball? Perhaps you view it as an unhurried hobby or an unconquerable challenge. Or maybe some days it’s reflected upon as a five-mile-walk spoiled – and that one perfect shot keeps bringing you back.              

No matter the reason, most golfers will tell you it’s time well spent.

The great American philosopher, Henry David Thoreau, once said this about his use of time:

“Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.”

His metaphor of an ever-moving stream as a symbol of time might also be applied to the global pastime of playing golf. To paraphrase, “Time is but the pasture we go a-golfing on” – shot to shot, day to day, season to season … all for the love of the game.

Here’s why I love golf – because my father did. Even though I barely knew him. He died when I was two, at age 27. But his love for the game was handed down through photos taken, articles written, and memories offered by those who did know him. Golf to me became a life-long love shared together through the spirit of the game, intertwined with the desire to continue his legacy.

My dad’s name was Nick Gudzan. Born in Pennsylvania, he had come south as a young man to play semi-pro baseball. Golf soon got his attention. A veteran pro named Orville White in Aiken, SC encouraged him to invest his future in golf. Here’s the rest of the story as told by Furman Bisher, former Atlanta Journal-Constitution Sports Editor, and member of the International Golf Writers Hall of Fame:

This story was first written by Mr. Bisher in 1954, titled “You Can’t Kill a Golfer”, and then followed up 37 years later with added commentary after Michael Jordan in 1989 was named by the Golf Nut Society of America as the official Golf Nut of the Year. Then David Earl of Golf Journal in 1990. Mr. Bisher picks the story up from there …

“I come before you today not to demean Messrs. Jordan and Earl, but compared to the candidate I shall introduce, they rank far back in the pack. In fact, this player would be my all-time champion.

It’s an old story, so old I was still editor of The Constitution at the time. Also, I apply the term “nut” apologetically here, for the memory of Nick Gudzan commands my deepest respect.

He appeared at my desk one day about the middle 50’s, a nice-looking fellow in his twenties. He had the compact conformation and carriage of a golfer, except for one thing — his left arm was missing. Once we dispensed with formalities, he told me his story and why he was here.

After a brief career in baseball, Nick began to apply his athletic abilities toward golf. He eventually became a club professional and was working at Lady’s Island Country Club in Beaufort, SC., when a nagging pain in his left shoulder sent him to see a doctor. At first it was thought to be a tumor that could be removed, but after the surgery, the pain persisted. The next stop was Duke University Hospital.

“That’s where I got the hard news,” he told me. “The doctor had my history and when he took one look at my arm, he said it had to come off. Cancer. I almost cracked up right there. I could see the end of my golf career. I asked him how long I might live if I refused. He told me a few months, not long.”

His last resort was renowned Memorial Hospital in New York, where cancer specialists told him the same thing. His only hope was amputation. But that wouldn’t necessarily mean the end of golf. His hope was to earn a living playing exhibitions and representing sporting goods companies.

It was here that Nick Gudzan earned his credential as the unchallenged Golf Nut of Forever.  The day before his surgery, while lying weak in a hospital bed, he made one heartfelt request of the surgeon who was scheduled to remove his arm. “Doctor”, he said, “will you postpone the surgery one day and let me go out and play one last round of two-armed golf?”

The doctor pondered a moment, parried with his man, then gave permission. The next day, Nick Gudzan went to Long Island and shot 72 on 18 holes he had never seen before – his last round of two-armed golf. There was no Golf Nut Society of America then, but if ever a man qualifies retroactively, Nick Gudzan does.

“It wasn’t as bad as you’d think,” he said. “The arm was removed Monday, I shaved myself Tuesday. Five weeks later I was back on the course and shot a 93. They took my arm, but they didn’t take my heart.”

Nick was in Atlanta hoping to set up a series of clinics and exhibitions for the American Cancer Society. He could have had his old job at Lady’s Island, but he’d have felt like a charity case. He could still play and had shot an 80 just a few days before, hitting a 527-yard green in three.

Unfortunately, he never got his chance. About six months later, the cancer that took his arm took the rest of him. Nick died January 15th, 1955, at age 27 – leaving behind a young widow and three small children. Only man I ever met who got his doctor’s permission to play one last round of two-armed golf.

Sorry Jordan, Earl, and others, this outscores you all put together. – Furman Bisher

Fast-forward to 2022, and the continuing saga of an 18-Hole Love Affair.

Shortly after my dad’s death in 1955, I was diagnosed with having cerebral palsy and required to wear a leg brace as a youth. It was hard for me to walk. This meant sometimes being picked on at school during the early years. And sometimes being humiliated.

Such an event happened in 4th grade that forever changed my attitude and subsequently my life. In an ironic twist of fate, it became the catalyst that kindled my love for golf and gave me hope.

I remember coming home from school that afternoon as a 10-year-old. My clothes were dirty, shirt torn, brace in hand — disheartened, mad, and crying. My mom asked, “Have you been in a fight again?” To which I replied angrily, “Yes. And I’m never going back to school. I’m tired of being picked on. After school today, a 5th grader started making fun of me for wearing a leg brace. I took it off & beat him up. I don’t think he’ll pick on me again, but I’m never going back to school. I’m gonna be a pro golfer like my dad and Arnold Palmer.”

10-years-old, crippled, couldn’t even hit a golf ball … and I was gonna be a pro golfer like my dad.

That’s where my mom stepped in and said, “Young man, you are NOT quitting school. Your dad would not want that, and I’m certain Arnold Palmer would tell you the same thing. Maybe you should write him a letter and see what he says.”

Besides my dad, Arnold Palmer was my hero. With Dad having been from PA and being a club professional, he and Mr. Palmer were acquainted. So much so, that Mr. Palmer had put on golf exhibitions with other noted pros of the day to help my mom with medical & living expenses. Not once, but twice he wired her $5,000 as proceeds from the charity benefits. We still have the telegrams. This was 1954 & 55 – before the PGA played for big purses, before “Arnie’s Army”, before any major championships won – This was Arnold Palmer. And he was my hero. Still is. Here’s why.

You see, on that day way back in ’63, a 10-yr-old little boy who had given up, sat down in despair and wrote a letter to Mr. Palmer. Didn’t intend to mail it. Didn’t know how to mail it. But my mom found the letter and without me knowing, sent it to Mr. Palmer.

In the letter, I asked him if he would help me become a pro golfer like my dad and himself. Among other things, I let him know my plans to quit school and never go back. Arnie answered.

A few weeks later a surprise package arrived addressed to me from Arnold Palmer Enterprises. The unexpected parcel included golf balls, a personalized autographed book “Arnold Palmer’s How to Play Golf”, and a 2-page, handwritten letter from Mr. Palmer himself — to a 10-yr-old kid.

He kindly let me know that my dad would want me to stay in school. Education was more important than golf. Golf could come later. And he made a deal with me: If I would commit to staying in school, he would make a phone call to a nearby teaching pro, Earl Tinsley, in Laurens, SC, and Mr. Tinsley would teach me how to play — all for free.

I remember that first lesson from 59 years ago like it was yesterday. On the appointed day, my mom drove me to Laurens Country Club, 15 miles from home. I’d never been to a “country club”.

We couldn’t afford something like that. Mr. Tinsley was waiting for us in the parking lot. As I got out of the car, he sized me up from top to bottom and without hesitation or judgement said these words I shall never forget,

“Well little man, Mr. Palmer says to teach you how to play golf. So, by dang it, let’s get after it.”

And that began an ongoing, 60-year-plus love affair with golf. Not only did Mr. Tinsley teach me fundamentals in the beginning, and nuances for limited physical ability, he showed me kindness and respect. Something I never forgot. I outgrew my braces and adapted. Eventually I became a 2-handicap player. All because Arnold Palmer wrote a letter, made a phone call, and gave a discouraged little boy something priceless … HOPE.

Yeah, I’ve had challenges in life (don’t we all). But that day “way back when” changed my attitude and my future.

I’ve been blessed to have played great courses from Pebble Beach to St. Andrews. In 2015 while there, got to see Mr. Palmer make his last ceremonial “Champion Golfers” Open appearance. The Scots gave him heartfelt ovations after every shot. And Arnie loved them back. That was special. Also been privileged to play charity rounds with the likes of Neal Armstrong, Jim Valvano, and even an older “Spanky” from the Lil’ Rascals. That was a hoot.

Through the decades, I’ve somehow made my way to the Masters Tournament for 50 consecutive years without fail — and joyfully walked & hobbled every step of those hallowed grounds. Sometimes with my wife, our children, friends, or alone – but never really alone – the spirit of the game and memory of my dad & Mr. Palmer was always there.

Today finds me happily “semi-retired” with my wife of 41 years, abiding in Bay Springs, MS. Almost daily, you can find me playing the terrific 9-hole local course, “Bay Springs Country Club”. Imagine that. The young boy that Arnie encouraged, grew up to be a member of a Country Club. I’m a little older now with a few more aches & pains, but still with the fervor to play. Nothing better than a late afternoon match with similar-aged, knuckleheaded friends “talking smack” and playing for a buck as if it were high stakes.

Yesterday, at 70-years-old, I bought a replica of the original Ping Putter. The one Earl Tinsley taught me to play with in ‘63. Made the 1st putt tried, heard the unforgettable “ping”, and the memories flooded back. Golf has been good to me. Life has been good to me. Still is.

And that’s why I love golf. It’s been an 18-hole love affair for life.

By God’s grace, I wouldn’t change a thing.

____________

Golf Nuts,

I have been The Head Nut for 36 years and have read and shared many amazing stories during that time, but none that topped this one for how one man’s love of the game had such a powerful, lifelong impact on someone who loved him dearly.

Nick Gudzan and his son, Richard, are now Golf Nut #4070 and #4071. God Bless them both. They are the embodiment of the Golf Nut Society and all that it represents.

The Head Nut

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It’s Time for a Change

Golf Nuts,

Peter Moore (#0002) and I launched the Golf Nut Society 36 years ago on July 4th, 1986.

The whole idea of the society was to give golfers their fifteen minutes of fame. We did it with an Entrance Exam that measured a golf nut’s “Commitment”, “Attitude” and “Mechanics”, and by awarding Bonus Points for anything a Certified Golf Nut submitted to earn additional Nut Points.

We kept track of the points and named a Golf Nut of the Year annually. It was fun, but also a lot of work. However, it’s time for a change.

My objective going forward will be to continue sharing the great stories from you Certified Golf Nuts. Your stories and your Nut # will always be what makes the Golf Nut Society unique. We just won’t keep track of the Nut Points anymore.

The other change will be to mix things up a bit by sharing a variety of golf stories and opinion pieces of interest to golf nuts through our blog while asking our Certified Golf Nuts to weigh in with your comments on any of those stories. We will hopefully have some lively and enlightening conversations!

Golf Nut Society memberships will also continue to be free, so let your golf buddies know that we’d love to have them join us!

I hope you will like the new format. As always, I welcome your feedback and I am confident that my dear friend and co-founder Peter Moore (#0002) would share that sentiment. May he rest in peace.

The Head Nut

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Now, to kick things off, here’s a great 40-second video about Ben Hogan sent to us by Bob Scavetta (#1696).

Rest In Peace, Dear Friend

Peter Moore: Co-Founder of the Golf Nut Society and the best friend I’ve ever had…

In 1985, I went to my golf buddy Peter Moore and said, “What do you think of this idea?”…and the Golf Nut Society was born.

For those who may not know, Peter was the genius behind the “Air Jordan” brand and so many others in the world of sports and athletic equipment. He was worldwide creative director at both Nike and adidas and served on the board of the latter during his storied career. To be able to bounce my crazy idea off him was a godsend to be sure, but also the source of some of the most fun I’ve had in life. That amused look you see in the above photo is something I’ve seen hundreds of times in the nearly 50 years I knew that wonderful man.

One of my favorite moments was when he told me I was visually illiterate (The nerve!). And then there was the time his staff voted me “Most Difficult Client” one year. I never did get the plaque they promised me.

Sadly, we lost Peter Moore recently to a long and difficult struggle with a vicious disease that finally took his life on April 30, 2022.

It is so hard to put into words the depth of the man because it was so very deep. To him, his word was his bond and friendship was a responsibility as well as a privilege. I tried so very hard to give as much as I received from Peter Moore but he made it impossible. To say he was a giving man is wholly inadequate because that is what defined him. In all those glorious years of friendship I never doubted our relationship. Not once. Loyalty was everything to him. Loyalty to an idea, a friend, his family.

But let’s talk about golf because he dearly loved the game. He just worked too damn much, as I told him so many times. Peter Moore didn’t just love golf, he was good at it too. He won the California Public Links Championship back when it was a very big deal, defeating talented players such as Victor Regalado and other outstanding amateurs in capturing the title. He played on Saturdays when his work and travel schedule would allow it, and I was privileged to be in those foursomes over many years.

When there was a local best-ball, I would enter us and tell him he had to play. He would always complain about his game not being ready, and I would remind him that best-ball competitions are not about winning, they are about friendship. And he always played well because he did everything well.

So many memories…

Our regular foursome at the club was equal parts laughs and serious competition because we were all competitive golfers on the local scene. One day, on the 17th hole, I got a little hot after chunking a chip shot and was having a bit of a hissy fit. This was back in the day of the television series “Wild Kingdom” with its host Marlin Perkins. Peter just stood there leaning on his putter until I calmed down somewhat and quietly said, “Marlin will hold Ron down while I administer the tranquilizer.”

Funny boy…

Speaking of friendship, he called me at the office one day many years ago and asked, “What are you doing tomorrow?” “Why?” I replied. “Because Michael Jordan is coming to town for a meeting with us about being sponsored by Nike and he wants to play golf after the meeting. Do you want to join us?” “I’ll see if I can make it,” I joked. And thus began the relationship with the man who would become one of the most famous athletes in history.

A year or so later, Michael was in town for a game against the Portland Trailblazers and joined our foursome that morning for a round of golf. On the 3rd hole, a creek crosses the fairway, so I decided to have a little fun with the hyper-competitive basketball legend. As we approached the creek, I said, “Michael, I’ll bet you can’t jump over that creek.” He said, “How much?” “Five bucks.” “OK, you’re on.” He laid his bag down and started running toward the creek when Peter appeared out of nowhere and jumped in front of Michael, waving his arms frantically and yelling “STOP!”

I said, “Why? It’s only ten feet across.”

“I don’t want to read about this in the newspaper tomorrow morning if he doesn’t make it.”

MJ and I were both disappointed. What a buzz kill…

So, back to the Golf Nut Society…yes, Peter Moore designed the first GNS logo and advised on all subsequent revisions. This is the current logo…

And if you’re wondering how Michael Jordan became a member, the answer is Peter Moore. The Society was only a couple of months old when Peter asked me to join him and MJ for that first round. He also knew how desperately I wanted the Golf Nut Society to be a success. So, as we stood on the 18th hole that day, without mentioning to me beforehand what he was planning, Peter said to the greatest basketball player in the world, “Hey Michael, Ron has a new club you might be interested in.”

“What kind of club? A driver?”

“No it’s a membership club called the Golf Nut Society.”

And I chimed in with, “Yeah, and I’ll give you a free membership!”

Michael looked at me like I was nuts and said, “You don’t understand, man…you’ve got to pay me to be a member!”

And I replied, “No man, you don’t understand, “I can’t afford you!”

He laughed and said, “OK, give me some information and I’ll take a look at it.”

And the rest is history…thanks to Peter Moore.

Remember what I said about Peter and friendship? There you go. And now you know why it’s almost impossible to return favors with him. He’d have you 4-down at the turn before you knew it.

Peter Moore has been much more than a friend to me. He has been an image, branding, and marketing strategy consultant; confidant, brilliant idea man; a 2nd opinion at times when I really needed one; and a wise counsel on all matters great and small. Most important, he has been my partner in this labor of love called the Golf Nut Society.

Peter Moore was, is, and will forever be #0002…

And I miss him more than words can convey.

Ron Garland

The Head Nut

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Here is a link to Peter Moore’s obituary…

The Masters

In 1934 Bobby Jones requested the USGA to host the US Open at Augusta. USGA said no. Angry at the rebuff. Bobby Jones and Clifford Roberts decided to have their own event, which became the Masters. The Masters is not a Championship of anything.

“You are the winner of the Masters”.

The Masters is one of the most unusual events in sports. It’s all about tradition, and it’s defined by a set of odd rules and customs that just don’t exist outside of Augusta National. It’s great. We compiled the oddest traditions that make the Masters and Augusta one of a kind.

Food prices are ridiculously low…

Tipping is banned.

Cell phones are prohibited at all times and cameras are not permitted during the tournament.

It’s one of the only places in the U.S. where there are long lines for pay phones.

There’s a huge fence around the course to keep out animals. There has been one deer sighting in the last 65 years.

Only four minutes of commercials per hour are allowed during the broadcast and no blimps are allowed. TV commentators are not allowed to refer to fans as “fans” or “spectators” They are to be called “patrons” (Spare me…)

And the rough is to be referred to as the “second cut.”

The Masters banned CBS broadcaster Gary McCord in 1995 for saying, “They don’t cut the greens here at Augusta, they use bikini wax.”

Players had to use local caddies provided by Augusta until 1983. Players are allowed to use their own caddies now, but they have to wear the Augusta uniform — green hat, white jumpsuit.

Fans, oops, we mean patrons, aren’t allowed to wear their hats backwards (Spare me again…)

Patrons can bring collapsible chairs to sit on, but those chairs are not allowed to have armrests (And again…)

Running is not allowed, unless you are a player (And again…)

Grounds crew members used to wear hard hats.

There is an odd myth that the grounds crew at Augusta packs the azalea plants with ice if spring comes early. The idea is that this will keep the plants from flowering too soon before the tournament.

There is a house located in the middle of the Augusta National parking lot because the owners refuse to sell it. The family has reportedly turned down “millions.”

You can’t apply to become a member. It’s nearly impossible to become a member at Augusta. You have to be nominated by a current Augusta member, and new initiations generally aren’t accepted unless someone quits or dies. The total membership hovers around 300 members (Don’t call, I’m not interested…not my kind of people.)

Augusta National is closed in the summer to keep the course in pristine shape.

Even the press conference podium is immaculate.

Players are given a brand new Mercedes for use during the week. Golf cart drivers who are hired to drive the players around Augusta National also pick up the golfers at the airport in the Mercedes they will be using. The cars also have a number in the back window so that employees can always identify the players by which car they are in.

You can go to jail for selling tickets.

Twenty-four people were arrested outside Augusta in 2012 for trying to scalp tickets. The course is insane about who it lets into the tournament and it’s illegal to sell tickets within 2,700 feet of the gates.

You can only ask for autographs in one part of the course. Fans always line the ropes at big tournaments in hopes of getting a signature. But this is tougher to do at Augusta. You can only try and solicit an autograph on the Washington Road side of the clubhouse, near the practice facilities (Gag me…).

The bunkers at Augusta are filled with mining waste. You know those pristine white bunkers? They’re actually composed of waste product from the mining of aluminum, according to Golf.com. Basically, there’s this company that mines feldspar (rocks) for aluminum. This process produces waste in the form of really bright, pure quartz — that’s what Augusta uses.

OK, that’s all Folks!

Enjoy The Masters! (But DON’T RUN!!) 🙂

The Head Nut

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Dear Head Nut

Dear Head Nut,

Five years ago, as a new “Nut” I joined Bermuda Dunes Country Club. A benefit of membership is a reduced rate to play in the Bob Hope Chrysler Classic.

Technically you have to have a low of the year index of 18 or better. I say technically because it has become obvious that the right amount of cash can get you a playing spot. (That’s a whole other story.) Although my index was 18.1, I was allowed to sign on as an alternate. As the first alternate in the “C” field I just had to wait until someone didn’t show to play.

Well after three days of patiently waiting…no luck. I figure if the guys showed the first three days I may be out of luck. So I inform the starter that I can’t hang out all day Saturday hoping that someone doesn’t show, but I would be available on short notice to play.

A big part of the reason for not hanging out at the club was that I organize a customer appreciation party at my home. As I live on the 15th fairway at Bermuda Dunes it allows my clients access to viewing the “Hope” in a party atmosphere. I was expecting 125 guests. My wonderful wife, Mary, is always very helpful in hosting this event even through she knows very few of my clients.

Well Saturday morning, having just finished the last of the party preparations, I’m showering and in comes my wife with phone in hand. “It’s the pro shop and you are not playing in this #@!@#$ tournament and sticking me with your guests!” she says.

Well, of course, as a good “Nut”, I have to play. I am informed I’m on the tee in 25 minutes. Not a problem, I am out of there and leave my not very happy wife with the task of entertaining 125 strangers.

I am the “C” player in Woody Austin’s foursome. As we get talking I tell Woody the story of leaving my wife to entertain while I am here with him. On the 15th tee, I look down at my home and see a wave of 100+ people cheering for me.

Woody looks over and comments that I have a bigger gallery than him.

After teeing off, we walk briskly down the middle of the fairway (I hit my best drive of the day.) Woody makes a sharp left and proceeds toward the swarm of people at my home. He asks for my wife. Upon dragging her through the throng, he gives her a big hug and thanks her for allowing me to play with him that day.

Truly a class act. Made her day and a few points for me.

Sorry for the long set up, but it’s a day I won’t soon forget.

Joe Deisenroth

#2953

Dear #2953,

That is one of the most heart-warming Golf Nut stories I’ve read in a very long time. Long suffering wife gets hug from Woody Austin because she couldn’t keep you around the house to entertain 125 of YOUR business clients. LOL!

The Head Nut

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