University of Virginia Library

Tee Time

Playing
With The
Pros

with Charlie Weir

With five victories in eight tournaments, Tom Weiskopf had
won over $185,000 in two months, going into last week's
Westchester Classic. Reading stories like that lead me to
sharpen up my swing in preparation for last weekend's
Jefferson's Country Open. Experience is the name of the game
in golf and the best way to get it is through the local
tournaments.

The pro at my home course in Maryland rates me as a 13
handicapper. I rate myself as a one handicapper. That's right,
one! That one is getting the little white ball into the much too
small cup. A score in the mid-80's is always to my liking.

Hoping for the best and preparing for the worst, my two
partners, Wayne Whitham and Cabell Moore, and I picked up
two six packs of Rolling Rock before Saturday's round and
headed for the tee. To round out the foursome, Keswick pro,
Glenn Reynolds introduced us to Roy Bruton of Farmington.
Poor Mr. Bruton never expected three young college golfers
for partners, I am sure.

Keswick's hilly lay-out runs for 6583 yards and plays to a
73 par. While courses are never as good as they could be,
Keswick was playable ... at least before I arrived.

Hitting the ball off the first tee in a tournament is probably
the most important stroke you will hit. My drive down the
middle drew praise from all three partners and a few
spectators. With the first hurdle crossed and a decent second
shot, I approached the third shot, a seven iron to the green,
telling Triumphant Tom to step aside because here I come.

It was here that I learned that the most important shot in a
tournament is really the third shot, for I shanked it and never
recovered. A resulting double bogey, followed by two bogeys
should have told me something about the beer getting colder
in the back of the cart, but they did not. My weak defense was
the four putts for the first three holes.

A perfectly played forth hole, on in two and down in two
for a par, and there I was walking to the eighteenth tee at the
Masters needing a birdie to beat Arnold Palmer. My drive
wasn't as long as Arnie's, so the decision loomed ahead. Play
short and settle for a bogey to tie the Golden Bear or aim that
wood at the pin and let her fly. You only go around once in
life, so we let her fly. Fifty yards ahead and in the rough. I
looked around for all the gusto I could. Man, did that beer
taste good.

Drinking alone is never fun. Luckily for me, Wayne had lost
his bid at about the same time. Score: four holes, four over par
- five holes, six over par ... Bad golf went worse. In the next
three holes, I scored a bogey on six, a double bogey on seven
that included hitting two shots into the trees, and a just plain
bad double bogey on the eighth. Finishing the front nine with a
beer and a par, I was ready to charge the back nine.

Adding another par on the tenth, I knew that I had my
game together and was ready to go. The eleventh hole at
Keswick is a 210 yard par three. A small creek about 90 yards
from the tee runs across the hole. It has never been a factor in
all the previous times that I have played the hole. This time
things were different. After taking a penalty stroke from the
creek, I scrambled to get a double bogey five. Score: eleven
holes, thirteen over par ... A crisis was looming, all thirteen of
my handicap strokes had been eaten away and I still had seven
holes to play. Only one way to beat it - another beer.

The next seven holes were played about the way they