I think I can speak for most us when I say that dares, challenges, and risks have become events we would rather watch than participate in anymore. That is, of course, unless the challenge is a simple one, like having a second slice of pie, exploring channels, reading instructions … No, scratch that—I don’t like being told “how,” and certainly not in Chinese or French, or by that ridiculous image of a man actually acting out the fucking instructions. Alas, I digress …
So let’s get back to the challenge thing.
Hole 16: Coach is not having a “Coach” day. I’m secretly loving it because he’s usually the Stagecoach and I’m usually his dust. He slices his second shot and it appears to be a water ball. (See picture: see Raggio smile, see that the ball is half—if not more—in the pond, loosely supported by leaves, algae, grass, and frog shit.)
Coach examines the ball, and there is a hesitation, a pause. I sense a wild possibility. I look over at Sam and say, “I think it’s playable.” Coach does not see my eyes roll. Sam quickly agrees. (We think we’re talking him into something he’s already made up his mind about.)
By the way, I miss the old Sam; this philosophical Sam is playing way too well, pissing me off. I liked him better when he was playing dueling Sputniks with Dick! (More digression.)
Okay, so when I see that Coach has decided to go hero, I rush to get my camera. Unfortunately, it misbehaved, and for some reason recorded the event in super speed. I was, however, able to break down the film into the important frames.
This is the ball. Notice the yellow contrast against the pond scum. I see the ball and think about the ponds that produce that flesh-eating disease there is no cure for. Coach does not see what I see.
Coach assessing his swing
Note the force of the splash. Note the tiny yellow orb exiting the water!
Note the golfer being rained on by the various elements he has tossed into the air with the ball.
Now check out the way the pond is still absorbing falling drops of water, and the golfer (Coach) is hollering his success at the ball. He’s sopped. Sam and I are threatening to wet ourselves. You just have to admire a man who wouldn’t tap out wrestling Goliath!
P.S. The ball indeed left the pond and made it to the fairway. Had there been grownups watching, golf claps would have been generously furnished. Instead, the cackling pair next to him were drying their eyes!
