“We can go anytime, sir,” I say. “Put the ball in the cup, call it a scratch.”
He looks up from his club towards my voice. “Who’s that? Who said that?”
Was it stupid question day at the country club? “It’s me, sir,” I say with an unexpectantly squeaky voice. “It’s your caddy, and we’re past double boogie. Push it in the cup and we can go to the next hole.”
The golfer looks almost at me. “My caddy? Tell me, is the ball in the hole?”
“No, sir. It’s about fifteen feet to the north.”
“So I’m on the green.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then maybe in a pesky sand trap?”
“No, sir.”
“Then I must have some pissed-off club member right behind me waiting for me to finish.”
“No, sir. I believe you were the last party to leave the club house. It’s quite dark right now.”
“Damn straight. I don’t need much light. I can feel the ball. I can sense the shots. Who needs eyesight?”
Is it Obvious Question Day at the country club? I want to say, yes. Yes, eyesight is a good asset for a golfer, you blind freak. Boy, do I hate being the newest caddy and getting stuck with you. But the Angel of Good Tips lands on my shoulder and I say, “Absolutely not, sir. All it takes is skill. You are on the green after all.”
“You got that right,” he says. “I’m on the green. Don’t need nothing but ability. Diabetes can’t take me off the green, can it?”
“Not a chance, sir. It’s your shot.”
“Watch how it’s done.” He hacks at the ball and it meanders several feet past the hole. “How’d I do, boy? Did I make it? Are we done with this hole?”
Are we done with this hole? Is it Unanswerable Existential Question Day at the country club? No, sir. We will never be done with this hole. We will be stuck on this green panacea like purgatory until celestial trumpets herald the end of our sentence. Chip it to heaven, sir. Chip it to heaven.
Perhaps we shouldn’t leave this green. This green is home-base. It is olly olly oxen free. On this green you haven’t lost your sight to diabetes. On this green I am not your little snot boy for tips. On this green we surely must be blessed. Here it is Elysium Fields. It is HyBrasil. It is Eden. It is getting darker and darker.
I should tell him he made the hole. I should tell we’re done. I should tell him.
But I find myself leaning on the 8th hole flag saying, “No, sir. You missed. But you’ll get it next time. I’m sure of it. You’ll get it next time.”
He smiles. “Yeah,” he says, “this broken body ain’t licked.” The sun has set and he swings one more time, for salvation.
Dave Macpherson lives in Worcester, MA with his wife Heather.
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18 Responses to “GREEN • by Dave Macpherson”
Comments
« YOUR SMILING FACE • by Ann Wilkes | Home | September’s Table of Contents »
August 31st, 2008 at 12:36 am
Hole in one, Dave.
K.C.
August 31st, 2008 at 3:17 am
Dave, thought this was a really well-constructed piece. For someone who isn’t a fan of golf, you kept me reading, which goes to show, the art of a good short story is its character and shape, not necessarily its content.
August 31st, 2008 at 3:42 am
I liked this too. The existential question of golf…
August 31st, 2008 at 4:01 am
I liked it! The reference to “scratch” at the beginning had me thinking Satan was in on it, which was wonderfully misleading for a few sentences! Bonnie!
August 31st, 2008 at 5:32 am
I could visualize and emote with this story even though I don’t play golf. Great piece. Thanks.
August 31st, 2008 at 7:52 am
Terrific writing, Dave. I especially liked:
“Perhaps we shouldn’t leave this green. This green is home-base. It is olly olly oxen free. On this green you haven’t lost your sight to diabetes. On this green I am not your little snot boy for tips. On this green we surely must be blessed. Here it is Elysium Fields. It is HyBrasil. It is Eden. It is getting darker and darker.
I should tell him he made the hole. I should tell we’re done. I should tell him.”
Beautifully done.
Sarah
August 31st, 2008 at 9:00 am
thank you all for the kind comments. I haven’t been focusing on writing much, we have just had our first child, and he is a well voiced critic that must be taken seriously, especially in the middle of the night. So thanks all.
August 31st, 2008 at 9:46 am
Dave:
Congratulations on the new son!
K.C.
August 31st, 2008 at 11:11 am
Great story, Dave. You’ve either been a caddy, or you’re one of those rare golfers who pays attention to them. Got his voice just right. And beside that, a well-crafted and excellently told tale.
And congrats on your new son! (I totally understand what that does for writing.)
August 31st, 2008 at 11:22 am
Well told with a great voice and flow.
–dj
August 31st, 2008 at 11:25 am
Congratulations, Daddy Dave!
August 31st, 2008 at 12:45 pm
Good Story Dave…love the story that lies behind the golf scene. Grats on the kid
August 31st, 2008 at 1:00 pm
Right on the mark this one.
August 31st, 2008 at 2:51 pm
“Is it Obvious Question Day at the country club? I want to say, yes. Yes, eyesight is a good asset for a golfer, you blind freak.”
Perfect voice. I could just about see the look on his face.
August 31st, 2008 at 3:01 pm
As a follow-up (sorry, it took me a while to think about why my issue was) … I’d like to have seen something change. The boy change his view or the man succeed or fail – something. As it is, it feels like a scene, not a story. Nothing happened.
This might just be a me thing
September 1st, 2008 at 1:47 am
Great story! Really liked that.
September 1st, 2008 at 6:01 am
Great story, Dave. A protag we can identify with, great visuals and dialogue, and trim pacing. It felt complete to me: your protag’s compassion overcomes his impatience with his client. Well done.
Congratulations on your new baby. I can testify, lack of sleep makes for creative delusions
Greta
September 1st, 2008 at 11:30 am
Engaging and witty, nicely done.