[FASTLARRY]

CUSTOMER GOLF

When I was first sent out on the road I was taught the rules. The customer is always right. You never beat the customer at golf.

I have been playing customer golf since 1965 and I have only won one match. This is the story of how it happened.

You always make a modest but reasonable bet, and then find a way to lose. This makes the customer very happy, and he likes you then. Knock his dick in the dirt on the course, unfortunately, not all will like you. Some will be jealous of your ability over theirs. Some will just hate your guts. You lose 10 or 15 bucks on the bet, the customer is so happy he buys you $20 of drinks to celebrate.
Being able to play a lot of golf very soon I got better than all of my customers and taking a dive was a tricky thing to do. You 3 putted a few greens, if necessary; duck hooked one out of bounds. You just had to make it look good. Something the old pool hustler had down pat, setting up the mark and taking dives was something I had been trained at in pool halls as a kid.

Then I hit on the solution. They would enjoy seeing me play par golf and hitting great shots. They just did not want to lose. So I learned to give them so many strokes I could not win. Every bet I made with a customer which I knew their games, their handicaps and about what they would shoot, I handicapped the match for me to win I would have to shoot 69. This was easy to do since they were all sandbagged really bad on their handicaps. Then I could play all out, and lose and pay off in the bar. The bet, went on my expense account also so what did I care if I lost.

This system worked perfectly for four full years in KCMO and I never won a match. Charlie, one of my million dollar customers who were on my 737 jet trip every year, was a customer I played with twice a month. So in 4 years, I had played with him 28 times, and never saw him break 80. I was convinced there was no possible way for him to do it. He had totally brain locked himself out of that years ago. He could shoot 80, but he could not shoot 79. Every time he got close to it, with a chance, he would blow like Krack a Tow A. He would grab both hands around his neck and choke till his eyes popped out. He would 4 putt, hit it out of bounds, self destruct in ways it would make the angles weep. His life’s goal and main wish in life, was to shoot that 79.

This poor guy had very little athletic ability, and he was the worst putter I ever saw. This guy invented the yips, he would get over a clutch putt and it would look like he had the bad DT’s. I saw him 6 putt once out in Colorado at the Garden of the Gods.

His normal round was 85 to 86, but now and then he would get hot and flirt with that illusive 79. I would always make our usually bet and give him the spot for me to win I had to shoot 69. We were playing at my CC, Blue Hills where I came up as a caddy and knew like the back of my hand. I was scratch there, and 69 were not out of my range, I had shot that there, many times, and my low was 68. It was early fall in 1972.

The round began in perfect weather, soft greens and both of us began scoring well. Then on the back 9 I caught fire and birdied 4 holes in a row. It fired Charlie up and he began paring holes. It was not until we hit the 18th tee that I came to my senses and realized what I was about to do. The 18 was a very short simple finishing hole. Leave it out right and you are in the parking lot, which was where Charlie always put it, OB. It was a dog leg left and then you had only a wedge left into a green trapped on all 4 sides by very deep big bunkers.

I pared the hole every time, it was quite simple. But, it just dawned on me, if I pared the hole, I would shoot 67, my lowest score ever, and man, I wanted that par. But if I did, I would break the rule, not to beat the customer. I thought, fook the customer, I want the 67, but I thought, chill, blow the hole, don’t do anything to shake this guy up, he can’t handle any pressure. Plus, if Charlie pared the hole, he shot a 78, hell he could bogey the damn thing with a 3 putt and achieve his lifelong goal. Charlie was in his early 50’s and he and I knew, if he did not do it soon, it would never happen. I knew if he did it playing with me, I would be his best pal for life and he would love me forever. Plus all the free drinks I would get.

So my decision was made, to take a dive, go into the tank. I hooded my 693, and duck hooked that bad boy way left which kicked down a hill even more left into the deep forest where the animals had no necks. I looked at Charlie saying damn, there goes our bet, you have won the match with my screw up, so just ease up on your drive, and the hole is not long, aim down the left side and just think smooth. He put it right in the middle of the fairway. I said, Charlie, I will probably never find my ball, go ahead and hit into the green, all of this was to give him no pressure and it worked, he hit it 6’ away. Holy Cow, the man can two putt for his 78.

He is coming over to look for my ball and I am waving him off saying its lost, and hell, no way I am walking back to the tee to hit again, I’ll pick up and you win the match.

Damn, he is having none of this, and yes, he found my fookin ball. I am 200 yards from the green, with a high lip bunker guarding it, and a zillion trees in front of me. I am thinking it’s impossible to get out of here without hitting a tree, and impossible to get on the green even if I do, so I aim at the closets tree, I figure to bounce it back deeper in and then pick up. I hood my 1 Iron, make a full body coil and then grip it and rip it. It comes out of there like a frozen rope, goes through the zillion fooken trees, lands in front of the trap, runs through it and up the lip and plunks on the edge of the green. Charlie is standing there, shaking, saying, that is the greatest golf shot I have ever seen. I am going, no shit, ditto.

The Devil smiled and said, ditto also.

I have had holes in one, a double eagle, and you would have had to be there to see this shot. To see, there was no way to get out of there. It was, the greatest shot I ever hit, and I ever saw. And the Devil hit it.

You could put me out there, in that same spot, every day with 1,000 balls, trying to get on that green from there, and 37 years later, I would still be tying to get on. It could not be done. There was no clear opening, too many trees, and how did it happen, it hits a tree on the left edge, kicks it left, it hits another tree on the right edge, it kicked it back right and through. You could here that click click. I am looking for the ball to be coming back and when it went through, I damn near had a coronary.

And I was not even trying to do it. So the devil was at work screwing with me that day. When we get up on the green I am 40’ away and I plan to hit the putt to hard, go 20’ past, 4 putt and still lose the match and let Charlie have his 78. I don’t even aim, I just walk up there, plant and wack it hard, it’s smoking across the green just as I wanted it too, but it hits the back of the cup, jumps a full foot up into the air and slam dunks in 3 points all net. I damn near had a stroke on that one.

Charlie drops his putter, saying that is the most amazing birdie I have ever seen, and that was a 66. He is saying, I have to two putt to tie. When he said that, I knew he was toast, stick a fork in the guy, he's done.

He begins to shake, I can’t watch, and he blows his 6 footer 6 feet past, then 5 feet past, and he 5 putts for 81. He blew the 79 and he lost the match and the bets. He glared at me whom I could see; he blamed what I did, for him choking like a dog. He was so pissed; he drove right up to his caddy, threw his clubs in the trunk, did not get out of his shoes and burned rubber out of the parking lot leaving me sitting in the parking lot. No pay off the bet he lost, no drinks in the bar. I knew I was in big trouble with the guy. I did not go near him for a month to let him cool down.

I mean bull shit, all the guy had to do was 3 putt from 6', and he fooked that up, and he blamed that on me. What a croc.

It would be 15 years later until I got under the 66 with a 65, and then after that, never shot under 68 again.

Here I am trying to shoot a fookin ten, and I card a three, go figger. The Devil was putting that ball in the cup, I am convinced of that. The next week I played in one of these little industry golf tourneys, you can shoot 74-75 and win some of them, I shot 69 to win, and Charlie was sure to tell my Vp about my 66 and 69. He is on the phone with me saying, any salesman shooting those kinds of scores, is playing too much golf and not working enough. So he banned all my customer golf for 90 days.

In 90 days I got out of the dog house and everything went back to normal sort of. I got to resume playing golf and was sure to shoot 80 in those future tourneys. Charlie always made excuses that he was busy and could not play with me. We never played again. Then the Sob tried to frame me, said I made him a deal that put his prices 5% under all my other customers in town which would give him an unfair advantage over them and I was always careful to keep them all on the same level playing ground for four years. He lied, saying I was lying to cover my memory, or my mistake. We had gone from best pals, to this guy now trying to get me fired.

This had gone from a PR disaster into something now very sinister. Charlies solution was since he did not want me around any more, he would just get me fired, then he would have a new salesman to break in and play golf with, one that probably could not beat him. There are some guys like Charlie, who owned the company, was a millionaire, and was used to getting his way. He liked to control people.

The national sales manager had to come to town to do a sit down between the two of us to bring peace. I would not relent that I had made a mistake, and no way the boss was going to fire his number one salesman in the country. He gave him the deal to make him happy. Charlie was happy, he had fooked me good and profited from it as well. All over that fookin one hole. So much damage was done. The Devil smiled.

It really didn’t affect me the way it could have, because a few months later, a big Oil company would hire me. I would go from a salesman to a Regional manager, double what I was making, and move to Florida out of the then zero weather into 80’s in January. It all ended well. But the terrible lesson always stayed with me which was what could happen to you, when you beat your customer, on the golf course and he loses his dream of a lifetime, that he thinks you, snatched it away from him. Anything then goes.

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