Charles E. Van Loan

“ They play together six days a week—a riotous, garrulous, hilarious foursome, ripping the course wide open from the first tee to the home green; and they get more real fun out of golf than any men I know. They never worry about being off their game, because they have never been on it; they know they can be no worse than they are and they have no hope of ever being better; they expect to play badly, and it is seldom that they are disappointed. Whenever a Dingbat forgets to count his shots in the bunkers, and comes home in the nineties, a public celebration takes place on the clubhouse porch. ”

“ Cutts is no Chick Evans, or anything like that, but, considering his physical limitations, he is a remarkable golfer and steady as an eight-day clock. He is so fat that he can't take a full-arm swing to save his life, but his little half-shot pops the ball straight down the middle of the course every time, and he plays to his handicap with a persistency that has broken many a youngster's heart. Straight on the pin all the time—that's his game, and whenever he's within a hundred yards of the cup he's liable to lay his ball dead. ”

“ He is intimately acquainted with every gopher hole, hoofprint and drain cover on the club property. Policing two hundred broad acres is a strong man's job, but Waddles attends to it in his spare moments. He waves his pudgy hand and says: "Let there be a bunker here," and lo! the bunker springs up as if by magic. He abolishes sand traps which displease him, and creates new ones. The heathen may rage, and sometimes they do, but Waddles holds on the even tenor of his way, hearing only one vote, and that vote his own. ”

“ Everybody knows that no two golf clubs are exactly alike, and that a favourite, once lost or broken, can never be replaced. A perfect club possesses something more than proper weight and balance; it has personality and is, therefore, not to be picked up every day in the week. The driver, the spoon, the cleek, the heavy mid-iron, the jigger, the mashie, the scarred old niblick, the two putters—everything was swept away in one wild spasm of renunciation; and if it hurt Coyne to part with these old friends he bore the pain like a Spartan. ”

“ At last he rose, tossed away the cigarette end and, reaching for his bag, drew out a wooden club. Again the caddie said something; but Ambrose waved him away. There was not a sound from his audience, but a hundred heads wagged dolefully in unison. A wooden club—out of a trap? Suicide! Sheer suicide! An iron might give him a fighting chance to halve the hole; but my last lingering hope died when I saw that club in the boy's hand. The infernal young lunatic! I believe I said something of the sort to MacQuarrie. ”

“ Both are retired capitalists, but when they climbed out of the trenches and retreated into the realm of sport they took all their business instincts with them.
Uncle Billy can play to a twelve handicap when it suits him to do so, and his partner in crime is only a couple of strokes behind him; but they seldom uncover their true form, preferring to pose as doddering and infirm invalids, childish old men, who only think they can play the game of golf, easy marks for the rising generation. New members are their victims; beginners are just the same as manna from heaven to them. ”

“ One foot in the grave, and he wins a cup sixteen hands high and big as a horse! Cheers, gentlemen, cheers for the Old Guard! It dies, but it never surrenders!"
"Here," said I, thrusting the rest of the tags into Henry's limp and unresisting hand. "You sign these."
"But," said he, "I—I didn't order anything, and I won the drink hole."
"You won the cup too, didn't you?" demanded Waddles. "Winner always buys—buys for everybody. Boy, bring the rest of those tags back here and let Mr. Peacock sign them too. Winner always buys, Henry. That's a club rule." ”

“ I never watched him jab at a putt without feeling certain that the ball was hit too hard to stay in the hole; but stay it does. Waddles actually putts with an overspin, and his ball burrows like a mole, dropping into the cup as if made of lead.
His brassy shots are just pusillanimous—there is no other word which describes them accurately—but somehow they keep on bouncing toward the pin. His irons run half-way and creep the rest of the distance. He always gets better results than his shots deserve, and complains that he should have had more. ”

“ Henry Peacock won the Brutus B. Hemmingway Cup!
Now as golf cups go the Hemmingway Cup is quite an affair—eighteen inches from pedestal to brim, solid silver of course, engraved and scrolled and chased within an inch of its life. Mr. Hemmingway puts up a new cup each year, the conditions of play being that the trophy shall go to the man making the best net score. A Class-B man usually wins it with a handicap of eighteen or twenty-four and the Class-A men slightingly refer to Mr. Hemmingway's trophy as "the dub cup." ”

“ As the summer drew to a close the annual team matches began, and we forgot Ambrose and all else in our anxiety over the fate of the Edward B. Wimpus Trophy.
Every golf club, you must know, has its pet trophy. Ours is the worn old silver cup that represents the team championship of the Association. A pawnbroker wouldn't look at it twice; but to us, who are familiar with its history and the trips it has made to different clubhouses, the Edward B. Wimpus Trophy is priceless, and more to be desired than diamonds or pearls. ”

“ By acting upon all the advice given him Henry managed to achieve that first hole in eleven strokes. He said he hoped that we would believe he could do better than that.
"Sure you can!" said the Bish with enthusiasm. "One thing about you, Peacock, you're willing to learn, and when a man is willing to learn there is always hope for him. Never let one bad hole get your nanny."
"Eleven!" murmured Henry. "No chance for me to win that big cup now."
"Aw, what's one cup, more or less?" demanded the Bish. "You'll get something to-day worth more than any cup. You'll get keen competition—and advice." ”

“ The Elder-Smathers match came to Number Seventeen all square; but our man ended the suspense by dropping a beautiful mashie pitch dead to the pin from a distance of one hundred yards. Smathers' third shot also reached the green; but his long putt went wide and Elder tapped the ball into the cup, adding a second victory to our credit.
"It's looking better every minute!" chirped the irrepressible Doc Pinkinson. "Now if Moreman can lick his man we're all hunky-dory. If he loses—good-a-by, cup! No use figuring on that red-headed snipe of a kid. MacNeath has sent him to the cleaner's by now, sure!" ”

“ Any old stiff who brings in a net of sixty-four has a cut coming to him. Leave it to me!"
"Well," said Henry, "I just wanted you to know how I felt about it. I—I want to be quite frank with you. Of course, I probably won't shoot an eighty-two every time out"—here Waddles gasped and plumped down on the bench outside his locker—"but when a man brings in a net score that is twelve strokes under the par of the course I think some notice should be taken of it."
"Oh, you do, do you? Listen, Henry! Since we're going to be frank with each other, what do you think your new handicap ought to be?" ”

“ You see, nothing was said about the sort of clubs Windy was to pick out, and he had selected eight of the same pattern, no good on earth except for digging out of bunkers or popping the ball straight up in the air! Harry Vardon himself can't drive with a mashie niblick!
"What are you beefin' about?" asked Windy. "Eight clubs, you said, and here they are. Play or pay."
"Pay! Why, man alive, it's a catch bet—a cinch bet! It's not being done this year at all! It's like stealing the money!" ”

“ I was on hand when the visitors filed into the locker room at noon—MacNeath, Smathers, Crane, Lounsberry and Jordan—five seasoned and dependable golfers, veterans of many a hard match; fighters who never know when they are beaten. They looked extremely fit, and not in the least worried at the prospect of meeting our men on their own course.
They brought their own gallery, too, Bellevue members who talked even money and flashed yellow-backed bills. The Dingbats formed a syndicate and covered all bets; but this was due to club pride rather than any feeling of confidence. ”

“ No man ever hit a longer ball at a more opportune time. As we toiled up the hill I tried to say something hopeful.
"He may have stopped short of the trap."
"Not a hope!" said MacQuarrie, chewing at his cigar. "He'll be in—up to his neck."
Sure enough, when we reached the summit there was the caddie, a mournful statue on the edge of the sand trap. The crowd halted at a proper distance and Ambrose and MacNeath went forward alone. MacQuarrie and I swung off to the left, for we wanted to see how deep the ball was in and what sort of a lie it had found. ”

“ Coyne drew the club from the bag.
"It's yours," said he briefly.
"Mine!" ejaculated Butch. "You—you ain't giving it to me, are you?" Coyne nodded. "But—but what's the idea? You can't get along without that iron, sir. You use it more than any other club in your bag!"
"Take it if you want it, Butch. I'm going to quit playing golf."
"Yes, you are!" exclaimed the caddie, availing himself of one of the privileges of long acquaintance. "Nobody ever quits unless they get so old they can't walk!" ”

“ Sam is a human firebrand, a dash of tabasco, a rough comedian and catch-as-catch-can joker. Years have not tamed him, but they have brought him into prominence as a consulting specialist in real estate and investments. Those who should know tell that Sam Totten can park his itching feet under an office desk and keep them there long enough to swing a big deal, but I prefer to think of him as the rather florid young man who insists on joining the hired orchestra and playing snare-drum solos during the country-club dances, much to the discomfiture of the gentleman who owns the drum. ”

“ At this point Adolphus came in from the locker room and there was an embarrassed silence, broken at last by Windy. "Somebody introduce me to my victim," said he. "We've never met."
"You don't tell me!" exclaimed Cupid. "Of all the men in this club, I'd think you fellows ought to know each other! Kitts, this is Wilkins—shake hands and get together!"
Among the other reasons for not liking him, Adolphus had a face. I'm aware that a man cannot help his face, but he can make it easier to look at by wearing a pleasant expression now and then. Kitts seldom used his face to smile with. ”

“ He was on intimate terms with every member of the Country Club and entitled to speak his mind at all times. He had made a close study of the male golfing animal in all his varying moods; he knew when to sympathise with a loser, when to congratulate a winner, and when to remain silent. Jasper was that rare thing known as the perfect locker room servant.
"This isn't laundry," explained Coyne. "I'm just cleaning house—that's all.... Think you can use these rubber-soled golf shoes?"
"Misteh Coyne, suh," said Jasper, "them shoes is as good as new. Whut you want to give 'em away faw?" ”

“ In the second place, Adolphus didn't care how he won a cup, and, as Cupid used to say, the best club in his bag was the book of rules.
If you don't know it already, I must tell you that golf is the most strictly governed game in the world, and also the most ceremonious. It is as full of "thou shalt nots" as the commandments. There are rules for everything and everybody on the course, and the breaking of a rule carries a penalty with it—the loss of a stroke or the loss of a hole, as the case may be. Very few golfers play absolutely to the letter of the law ”

“ Sam broke the news to me while I was practising mid-iron shots on the other side of the eighteenth green. Sam has carried my bag for years. He is too old to be a caddie, too young to be a member of the Supreme Court, and too wise for either job. He shoots the course in the seventies every time he can dodge the greens keeper—play by employes being strictly prohibited. He has forgotten more golf than I shall ever know, and tries hard to conceal the superiority he feels, but never quite makes the grade. You know the sort of caddie I mean—every club has a few like Sam. ”

“ When such a renegade as Purdue refused to go turf-tearing with him Ambrose gave up in disgust and devoted himself to the serious business of learning the royal and ancient game. He infested the course from dawn till dark, a solitary figure against the sky line; our golfing Ishmael, a wild ass loose upon the links, his hand against every man and every man's hand against him. ”

“ When the tension was almost unbearable the redhead turned and grinned at MacNeath.
"I suppose you'd shoot this with an iron," said he; "but the baffy is a great club—if you've got the nerve to use it."
Ambrose settled his feet firmly in the sand, craned his neck for a final look at the flag, two hundred yards away, dropped his chin on his chest, waggled the clubhead over the ball, and then swung with every ounce of strength in his sturdy body. ”

“ Why, if I cut you from eighteen to ten that'll put you in Class A!"
"I think that's where I belong."
"I'll have to talk with the head bar boy," said Waddles. "He shouldn't be so reckless with that gin. It costs money these days. Listen to me, Henry. Take hold of your head with both hands and try to get what I say. You went out to-day and shot your fool head off. You played the best round of golf in your long and sinful career. You made an eighty-two. You'll never make an eighty-two again as long as you live. It would be a crime to handicap you on to-day's game, Henry. ”

“ She may be a wonder on the putting green, but she offers herself no credit for that. It is the long tee shot that takes her eye—the drive that skims the bunker and goes on up the course. Waddles says the proposition of sex equality has a bearing on the matter, but I claim that it is just ordinary, everyday pride in being able to play a man's game, man fashion. ”

“ Flashing now to a close-up of the scores for the qualifying round, there were two strange faces in the first sixteen—Cyril's and the Major's—and Cyril walked off with the cup offered for low man. His seventy-three created quite a commotion among the Class A men, but the Major's eighty-one was what knocked them all a twister. Even Waddles was amazed. Waddles had turned in an eighty-five, which barely got him into the championship flight, but medal scores are nothing in Waddles' life. Match play is where he shines—match play against a nervous opponent. ”

“ Nobody knows why they are so dead set against letting any one through.
Everybody knows the fatal effect of standing too long over the ball, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Everybody knows of the tee shots that are slopped and sliced and hooked; of the indecision caused by the long wait before playing the second; of the change of clubs when the first choice was the correct one; of the inevitable penalty exacted by loss of temper and mental poise. Everybody knows that a slow foursome gives the Recording Angel a busy afternoon, and leaves a sulphurous haze over an entire course. ”

“ I don't care the snap of my fingers for your ratty old cup. I care even less for the members of this club—present company excepted, you understand; but I can't stand it to have anybody think I'm not game. Ever since I was a runt of a kid I've had to fight, and they can say anything about me except that I'm a quitter.... Why, I've stuck round here for nearly five months just because I wouldn't let a lot of old fossils drive me out and make me quit—five months without a friend in the place, and only MacQuarrie to talk to. ”