At the clubhouse, Champions Golf at Bluff Creek.
“Hey Howie, buddy, how are ya?”
“Good, Jamie. And you, buddy?”
“I’m good, Howie. A nice day to play the course.”
“I already trekked the green. I goofed today.”
“Goofed today?” said Jamie a bit puzzled.
“Yeah, I played golf,” said Howie.
Jamie replied, “Oh, you did goof today! Well, did you tee off?”
Howie to Jamie, “Of course, I made it that far. How was your game today?”
Jamie replied, “Always good. I made par. I aced the hole four times. How about you, Howie? Parred under one hundred yet? Last time, I remember your par was about one- twenty. Any better? Probably not. Try to get it under a hundred, if you ever can, Howie. Really, how is your game?”
“Well, I did a bogey on hole two.” “Not bad,” said Jamie. “What about the rest of them?”
Howie thought to himself, I’ll exaggerate about my game, just like Jamie and the rest of them off the green. A little bluff can’t hurt. They all do it. One thing I did do today, I got out of the sand trap in two strokes. Jamie doesn’t know it. Actually it took ten times, but he doesn’t need to know.
“Jamie, did you tear up any turf today? Leave any work for the maintenance crew?” “I never dig the earth, ever!” replied Jamie, a bit annoyed. “Me neither,” said Howie. “Oh really? How come, Howie, I seem divots everywhere after you play a hole?” “There’s gophers underneath. They can’t seem to get rid of them.”
“Howie, you’re doing good for a ‘lefty.'” “What do you mean, Jamie?” “You could use some lessons from a pro. But since you’re left-handed, I doubt you will ever find a left-handed pro. Just aren’t any around here. Check with the clubhouse manager, he may know of someone.”
“You know, Jamie, Phil Mickelson and Bubba Watson are both lefties. Phil won the Masters at least three times.” “Well, Howie, they both learned to play the game the right way and then switched over to the left. Howie, I doubt you will ever be able to learn how to play golf the right way. You’re just a ‘lefty.'” “How do you know that, Jamie?” “I just know.”
“Jamie, golf is a game you play on your own. It’s your game and you’re not competing against anyone, unless you’re a pro and playing for the big money.” “Howie, you will never play for the money. It takes years to become a pro, I know.” “Well, Jamie, has the PGA invited you to join?” “Not yet, but I’m hoping.”
“Howie, you will never see Augusta.” “Well, Jamie, I don’t see you putting on a green jacket ever. By the way, I have been to Augusta. The most beautiful green I’ve ever seen and so many azaleas. Jamie, when you’re at the Masters, you just feel the greatness of all the pros who have won there. Arnie, Jack, Tiger and Phil. The excitement is just electric. What a thrill! Arnold got jackets. Nicklaus got several of them, and so did Tiger. Phil got three of them, and Bubba just got his second one. He’s a southpaw and always makes par. Just had to say it again. Nothing like Augusta.”
“Well, Howie, I gotta go. Glad you had a better game today. One day you will play golf, but until then, you’ll just goof along.” “Jamie, I know you will never admit it, but I betcha you played goof for awhile and then became pro, now that you are a real golfer.” “Never goofed!” “You’re a bluff, Jamie!” “I bet you are too, Howie.” “Aren’t we all, Jamie? All of us at Bluff Creek.” “I’ll never say, Howie.” “No one will, Jamie. It’s a ‘green code of silence.'” Both exchange smiles and winks.
“Howie, next time at the club? I expect to see you here.” “Jamie, I know I’ll see you here. You’re such a champ. I idolize you.” “Now, you’re talking the right talk, Howie.” They both laugh. “See ya, Jamie.” “You too, Howie.”
By the way, Jamie and I are friends outside of golf. I like him better there. We are buddies, I think?
Goof or golf. Whatever you call it, its just a game, but it’s always par for the course. Even if you fib a little about it. That’s what Bluff Creek is all about, a bluff club.