A Stableford Story at Airways — Part the Second
by Dr. Seuss (who is starting to question his involvement with this league)
The back nine was waiting. It sat. It was still. It crouched in the twilight like a beast on a hill.
Ten golfers showed up — one more than before! Three faces returned who'd skipped Week One's war.
McKone! Stadnicki! Tom Wieland came too! They said, "We are READY!" The back nine said, "...who?"
But five men stayed home — yes, FIVE ducked the fight. Confrey, Keilich, Zogbaum — still nowhere in sight.
Alvarez and Oravec, who'd played the week prior, decided this Tuesday they'd rather retire.
Now HERE is the number that tells you the tale: ZERO. Zero birdies. Not one. Zip. Full fail.
Last week Kevin Kearns birdied nine — what a thrill! This week? That birdie's a GHOST on a faraway hill.
And pars? Only FIVE in the whole Tuesday night! Ninety holes were attempted — five pars. That's not right.
The back nine just grinned with its teeth sharp and wide. "You thought you could SCORE here?" it cackled with pride.
But WAIT — there's a hero! One man met his mark! Bill Gallagher shined like a lamp in the dark!
Six points on a target of five — hip hooray! A bonus point too at the end of the day!
He parred fourteen CLEAN — a par four, nothing more — then he bogeyed on ten, twelve, sixteen, seventeen's door.
Two weeks, two targets MET! Not a stumble! Not one! Bill Gallagher's the tortoise and the tortoise has WON.
(Well, not won. But he's STANDING. That counts. That's enough. When the back nine is biting, you celebrate stuff.)
Now Kearns shot a forty-six — lowest of all! Seven points on the evening! But that's not the whole ball...
His TARGET was eleven, and seven fell short by four! That's a gap of the un-fun-nest sort.
He parred hole thirteen, and he parred fifteen too — two pars on two par-threes! A feat for the few!
But doubles crept in on the rest of his card, and the man who BIRDIED last week found this week rather hard.
Now the PAR-THREES — oh my! — there are THREE on the back. Ten, thirteen, and fifteen — a par-three attack!
You'd THINK that means PARS! You'd think, "What a treat!" You'd think wrong, my friend. Take a sad little seat.
On hole number TEN, SIX of ten made a double! Only Jarvis and Kevin G. parred without trouble.
On hole THIRTEEN — worse! — EIGHT of ten went to pot! Only Kearns made his par. That's one. That's your LOT.
And FIFTEEN? Oh fifteen! Seven doubles or more! Kearns parred it, McKone bogeyed, Jarvis bogeyed — that's your score.
Par-threes, they all said, should be EASY and nice. The back nine just laughed and said, "Thank you. THINK TWICE."
The three who RETURNED from their Week One vacation? The back nine provided a rough re-orientation.
Tom Wieland got ONE point. A bogey on ten. That was it. That was all. Not a point more. Amen.
Len Stadnicki got TWO — bogeys twelve and eighteen. Not the triumphant return he had previously seen. (In his dreams.)
And McKone gathered THREE from his bogey collection — twelve, fifteen, eighteen — a modest selection.
"WELCOME BACK!" said the course with a wink and a sneer. "We've been SAVING your doubles. We're so glad you're here."
Now Deyette — DAVE DEYETTE! — last week's overachiever! Three pars! Seven points! A believer! A weaver of magic!
This week? One point. ONE.
A bogey on eleven, and that was his fun.
His target was four and he limped in with one. The man who parred three-out-of-four found this week parred him NONE.
Oh golf! Oh you GAME! You giveth, then take! You build up a man just to watch his heart break!
John Gallagher too had a dark, dismal night. One point — bogey, eleven — then nothing went right.
A NINE on the sixteenth! A nine on a five! That's four over par and it's barely alive.
Ted Cowles? He got two! Up from ZERO last week! Which is technically PROGRESS though it's modest and meek.
Like finding a penny when you needed a buck — it's still legal tender, but it's NOT the same luck.
Now HERE is where nightmares and bogeymen dwell: Holes SIXTEEN and SEVENTEEN — the back nine's worst hell.
NINE out of ten players made double or more on EACH of those holes. Let me say that once more:
NINE out of TEN! TWICE! On sixteen AND seventeen! The ugliest numbers these scorecards have seen!
Two nines on the sixteenth! A pair of fat eights! The seventeenth dealt out sixes, sevens — bad fates!
From TWENTY attempts on those two holes combined, ONE single point came back. One. That's all you will find.
Bill Gallagher's bogey on sixteen — that's it. One point from twenty tries. The rest? Not one bit.
So here are the numbers. I'll read them aloud. They're grim and they're gloomy like a thunderstorm cloud:
NO birdies! NO eagles! FIVE pars — only five! The average was three-point-one. Barely alive.
ONE man met his target (that's Bill G., take a bow). NINE others fell short and are wondering how.
FIVE golfers are MISSING through TWO weeks of play. Confrey! Keilich! Zogbaum! Where ARE you today?!
The back nine is quiet now, dark under the moon. The flags barely flutter. The shadows loom.
It won this round handily, laughing, supreme. It swallowed their pars like a fish in a stream.
But NEXT WEEK they'll come back — with new balls and new hope! And maybe — just MAYBE — someone birdies. (Don't mope.)
The season is young! There are weeks left to go! And the front nine comes back, which the back nine don't know.
So polish your drivers! Re-grip all your sticks! And pray to the golf gods for par-threes that don't... play tricks.
The End. (Again.) (For now.) (We think.)
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