I arrived at the golf club about half an hour after his tee time, slotted my car into the space the officials with orange flags waved me to, then found no signs pointing to the gate, so I adopted the strategy of following other people. Surely, they'd be heading to the gate, right? No, it was so early that volunteer officials were arriving. They were all heading toward a tent to get their various supplies and instructions. Someone pointed me to the nearest entry point, a back entrance.
When you enter the front way, you can get almost anywhere easily because it takes you to the hub that the holes keep coming back to. Because the holes fan out away from the hub, I found myself in a random spot that had me puzzling over the course map to think up a strategy for finding Cliff. On my first try, at the 7th hole, I see Kevin Na, who is golfing alone, since there are twosomes, made of an odd number of players, and Na was the one chosen to golf alone, because he had finished last yesterday. He had to start first too. Cliff, I know, is two groups behind Na, so I try the 6th and then the 5th hole, where finally meet up with Cliff. I learn that, unfortunately, he has already bogied two holes. He birdies the 5th hole, which makes me start to feel like a good luck charm again--see here and here--but my lack of charm is thereafter soundly confirmed, as Cliff goes 6 over par today and finishes the tournament at 10 over par.
His partner, Steve Pate, didn't do much better. One of the spectators tells me Pate is nicknamed "Volcano," because of his bad temper. I notice his name, as written on the caddy's vest, is S. Pate---spate---and try to think of a more poetically satisfying water-related nickname for a guy with a bad temper: Torrent? Surge? Niagara?
But I never see an S. Pate outpouring, even though he experiences plenty of provocation. In fact, Cliff and Pate seem to be enjoying the game, like recreational players. There is plenty of talking and joking. I overhear a lot of discussion of the brawl at last night's Yankees-Red Sox game. Both men started the day at 5 over par, but at one point, Cliff, who had started out badly, has struggled back to 5 over and Pate is at 10 over. A few holes later, their scores meet at 7 over, and Cliff, who has been losing ground, claps Pate on the back and announces playfully, "Now, we got a dog fight!" That happens right after I had found myself thinking about how important the function of denial is to a human being. One always hears of denial as a bad thing, and surely it can get you into trouble, but it came upon its place in human psychology because of all of the good it can do so much of the time. Often there are hardships, and the best hope of making it through to a better time is to refrain from realizing how bad things are.
I stop at a refreshment stand and order a soda.
If you want anything to eat, it's all ready.
It's a little early for a hot dog.
Nah! Breakfast!
I guess it is kind of like a sausage ... It is a sausage.
Yeah, sausage!
The men soldier on to the bitter end, in the beautiful park, on this calm and cool Sunday morning. No tears were shed, no tempers lost. And it's on to Grand Blanc, Michigan for the Buick Open next week. Good luck!
UPDATE: And all those Jerry Kelly fans will go home unhappy too, as he bogied 3 of the last four holes and fell to 13th place. And the winner is Carlos Franco, who, according to his bio, "Grew up in poverty in Paraguay. Family of nine shared a one-room, dirt-floor home...Father was a greens superintendent and caddie at course in Asuncion...All five of his brothers became golf professionals."
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