Ooook-lahoma, where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plain (part 2)

I play at Vache Grasse (French for fat cow – I have no idea – maybe in homage to Amanda Vanstone) Arkansas. I play with 4 fellows who are all in the 70s and play 3 times a week. And play pretty darn well may I say. Even though they are in their 70s they are as full of life as a lot of men in their 30s. These chappies have their own rules such as : lost balls don’t incur a penalty as they have had a lot of rain this year. They remind me of that thought of Peter Roebuck, (the English cricket writer), that Australian men turn 18, like it, and decide to stay around that age for a couple of decades. We now know of course that Peter would have preferred if they stayed around the 13, 14 mark.

I try to make a booking at La Fortune Golf Course, Tulsa, Oklahoma on Friday for a Saturday tee time. “We don’t take bookings for singles sir. If you turn up between 10 and 10.30 we will get you on pretty quick smart.” So I turn up at 10 am. I notice a little chappie buzzing about the starter wearing what looks like floral board shorts and a three sizes too big round collar Adidas shirt. I wonder what his deal is. Some sort of very odd job man? Anyway, “quick smart” turns out to be an hour and a half. I’m eventually teamed up with the little chappie (who turns out to be a golfer by the name of Richard – who has no time for a dress code) and Barry, a chiropractor originally from California. Richard starts drinking half way down the first fairway and swearing on the first tee. I’ve found that the Americans I’ve come across (while playing golf anyway) don’t seem to swear much. I’ve always thought cussing and golf sort of went hand in hand. Richard loves to swear incessantly. He also has an ongoing commentary about his game and your game that is incredulous about how unlucky we are. “That wind just cum and took it”. “That green slopes all wrong”. If smoking was an Olympic event I’m pretty sure Richard would at least finish on the podium. He has a smoke a hole. “If you want a beer, Brian just take it. Where is that beer bitch? What do you call those jumpy things” Me: “Kangaroos?” Him:“There the damnest things”. He is only small and never hits the ball further than 150 metres, but always down the guts. I don’t think he has worse than a bogy all day. He is drinking his beer from a plastic beaker with ice in the beer. Barry doesn’t approve of our Gollum like playing partner. Watching Richard scurrying around the green Barry says to me “That is what happens if you abuse alcohol and drugs all your life”. I on the other hand am in love with Richard. After we take a photo on the 18th and say our goodbyes I’m standing outside the pro shop when a hand holding a beer can whizzes one inch past my head. It is Richard going flat chat in his cart “You be careful driving now Brian” he yells and disappears into the distance. I’m not sure if Richard would fit in at Royal Melbourne, but he would be great at Royal Park.