Handicaps and Other Tom Foolery
by Holy Chip
Blue Moon Retainer, my trusty attorney, and I trekked down to Monterey for an audience with the Pope of Slope. After kissing his ring, diamonds inlaid on an emerald field encased in gold, we began a lively discussion of the merits of the handicap system. So lively in fact, the Pope's security force, the Swiss Guard, was placed on high alert. There is nothing neutral about the barrel of an Uzi.
Our main point of contention was how clubs could take established handicaps and lower them at will, with your blessings. This, I argued, rewarded mediocrity at the expense of the honest golfer who practices and plays tournaments well. He explained, a golfer should only shoot under his number 3 times in twenty rounds. Exasperated by such lunacy, I asked if the PCGC, our club, was trying to become AYSO. Could we expect a hug and an orange slice at the end of a round? Will we throw our scorecards into a hat, blindly draw and give everyone a chance to win? Where have the hard liners like John Noce (CSM), Bud Presley (Menlo), and Ricky Bobbie (SAG) gone? If you ain't first, you're last.
The Pope placed his calming hands on our shoulders, had the Swiss Guard stand down, and then very patiently explained his position. Between us, he said, my system is a flawed mathematical algorithm designed to baffle, bemuse and befuddle those with a handicap under ten. I will never admit this in open court, sorry counselor, but I hate golfers. I only do this job so I can ride around town in that bubbled golf cart. Clint doesn't even have one. Now give me two "Our Fathers", and a "Hail Mary". And you Chip, leave a little something in the basket.
*SAG=Screen Actors Guild
Next month: who knows, just depends of the quality of the well scotch.