“I was hoping you’d join us,” Phil said. “Hey congratulations, that’s some contract you got from Eagle.” “Thanks.” Reid asked a passing waiter for coffee. He was facing the opposite way when someone sat down next to him. He turned and his jaw dropped. His favorite actor, Brian Capo, sat there looking at him. Reid was at a loss for words and just stared. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Eagle. Congratulations Reid, it’s nice to meet you.” “Thank you, Mr. Capo,” Reid mumbled. “Mr. Capo! Ha.” Phil laughed. “You didn’t call me Mr. DiBlasio when we met. I get no respect.” Everyone around the table laughed. “Reid, please call me Brian.” “Okay, Mr. Capo, I…I mean Brian,” Reid stammered. “It’s great to meet you, too. I’ve always been a huge fan of yours.” A loud tapping noise hushed the room and carried all eyes to the podium. “Good morning. May I have everyone’s attention? I’m Bill Taylor, commissioner of the PGA, and I’d like to welcome you all to Augusta. I wanted to take a moment to explain why we decided to break from tradition and play a Pro Am before the Masters. The request has come up in past years and we’ve always declined. This year, we figured why not. We’ll still hold the traditional Par 3 Contest on Wednesday, but the money we’ll raise today for charity far outweighs any reason I can come up with for not breaking tradition. In fact, we decided that we would sponsor the event ourselves and donate the funds to the American Cancer Society. We have a gorgeous day for golf and the course is in perfect condition. Please join me in thanking Craig Jackson, the president of the club, for getting this place ready for an exciting day of golf.”
After a round of applause, he continued. “You will all have plenty of time to have fun, but I would like to get the day started. As soon as you finish breakfast, please go to the tables in the lobby to register your favorite charity. As you know, your winnings today go to the charity of your choice. So enjoy yourselves, have fun and let’s see some serious competition out there. Here’s our schedule. At 9:30 we will have a shotgun tee off. Then a horn will blow at 11:45. Finish the hole you are on, then come back here for lunch. Play will resume at 1:30. After the tournament, you will have time to clean up before we meet for cocktails and our awards dinner. Gentlemen, have fun and as always, may the best team win!”
A round of applause followed and everyone slowly walked to the lobby to register their charity.
Reid and Phil started on the fourth hole. Reid introduced Phil to Buddy, who was carrying both their bags. Phil hit his drive a little off to the right near the tree line but not in trouble. Reid teed his ball and was getting ready to hit when Phil made the mistake of interrupting him. “Come on Reid, this one’s up to you!”
Reid stepped away from the ball, looked at Phil very seriously and said, “Don’t do that again.” “Sorry,” Phil said, grimacing with embarrassment. Reid hit a perfect drive just short of the green. They all started to walk in uncomfortable silence. Phil once again said, “Reid, I’m really sorry. Don’t let it ruin our round!”
“Don’t worry, it won’t ruin our round, but I need to focus. I may not be much fun to play with in a tournament, but I’m a pretty good partner if you want to win.”
Phil gave Buddy a questioning look. Buddy just shrugged his shoul ders. “Okay,” Phil said. “Let’s win!” They enjoyed the rest of the round, finding a good balance between serious golf and kidding around. Thanks to Reid, they had the lead when they went in for lunch. After a light lunch they teed off on the 14th. Phil played very well, commenting that maybe he should play this seriously more often.
“Don’t get too serious, Phil,” Reid said. “No one will recognize you. On the other hand, maybe that’s a good thing.” “Ow, that hurt. Was that actually an attempt at humor, Mr. Serious?” “Phil, that’s about the best I’ve got,” Reid snickered. “Better stick to golf.” “So I’ve been told.” After 17 holes, Reid and Phil were leading by one. The press was all over them. “Hey Phil, what’s the matter?” a reporter asked. “No jokes today?” “I just figured out that if I take this game seriously, I’m actually pretty good. Too bad it took me 20 years to realize… I couldn’t take the golfpro out of Reid, but he took the clown out of me. Temporarily of course,” he added quickly.
The tournament came down to Phil’s putt on the last hole. He had to sink a four-footer to win. During past tournaments at times like this, Phil worked the crowd, making everyone laugh. Today was different; Phil was totally serious. He also was a nervous wreck.
“I can’t believe this,” he said. “I’ve never felt like this on a golf course. My stomach is in knots. Buddy, please help me read this putt.”
Buddy pointed the grip of a club to a spot about a ball’s width to the right of the hole. Phil looked at Reid for his confirmation.
“This one is up to you, my friend. You can do it, just focus and relax!” Reid didn’t let on that inside he was twisted with anxiety. It drove him nuts that someone else was in control of his winning or losing a tournament. He often wished he could take winning a little less seriously, especially when it was only a Pro-Am.
Phil took his stance and the crowd hushed. After a deep breath he hit the ball exactly where Buddy had indicated. The ball rolled toward the hole and dropped in.
The crowd roared. Phil yelled, “Oh my God, I did it.” He ran over and gave Reid a big hug and said, “I owe you one.”
Reid just smiled and said, “No you don’t, sinking that putt was enough. Nice job.” “Thanks. Okay if I joke around now?” Reid smiled and nodded. Phil immediately loosened up and started joking with the crowd, the press, and mostly Reid. They walked into the clubhouse with Reid’s arm over Phil’s shoulder. The cocktail reception was well underway when Reid and Phil entered the lounge. The gathering included Pro-am players and their families, PGA management, representatives from golf equipment companies and many celebrities. Even the president and first lady were there.
Reid wished he didn’t need to be at this party. He would have preferred just to rest back at the hotel, but he schmoozed with everyone who approached him. He quickly tired of saying thank you, but everyone was congratulating him on the endorsement and the day’s win. Then they would wish him luck in the Master’s.
Thank you, thank you, thank you. Enough already, he thought, how many times can I say it? At that moment the president and first lady walked up and congratulated him. “Thank you, Mr. President. It is a privilege and pleasure to meet you, and you, ma’am,” he said turning toward the first lady.