Bobby paused, waiting to make sure the hook was set. He had been on the practice green for over an hour when Don and Victor showed up. They were older guys, well dressed, good equipment. He figured a grand each for the outfits and shoes, more than that in the bags. He had watched them chip and putt as he did too, for about fifteen minutes, before he went into the clubhouse to see if he could be sent out with them.
He had been through a rough couple of weeks, blocking tee shots for some reason he couldn’t quite put a finger on. He had been playing in Connecticut and Massachusetts. A fellow at a course in Massachusetts had told him about Triggs in western Providence, a Donald Ross course, once the Providence Country Club, now a public course with a lot of old money and a lot of old egos.
He was broke and he needed a score, and Triggs Memorial seemed like the place. He had played it three times earlier in the week, his swing gradually straightening out, and figured he knew the course well enough to make a play.
“Don and Victor?” Stan at the desk had asked. “They’re good.”
“How good?”
“Victor is a ten handicap, maybe. Don’s about a seven. Be careful with them.”
“That sounds good to me.” Bobby was officially a five, though it was a carefully managed five. He could be scratch easily if he didn’t keep the handicap up where he wanted it. He gave up the last of his money, except for fourteen dollars for the greens fee and a cart. On the first tee they had exchanged the information. Bobby had suggested a hundred-dollar Nassau—a hundred to the winner of the first side, another hundred for the second side, and a hundred on the total score. Pretty simple, pretty conservative. If they didn’t take the bet, he would have to beg off and wait for someone else. He didn’t play for free.
“I don’t know,” Victor had said. “Young kid like yourself. Probably hit the ball a ton. How about you against both of us? We’ll play a better ball, our best score against you.”
“We’re within three strokes of each other. That gives you a huge advantage. Odds are at least one of you is going to play pretty well on every hole. I got to beat that.”
“You’re young and I’m figuring you’re a little bit better than a five. I think it’s a good bet.”
“I need a lot of incentive to pull this off.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred?”
Don and Victor exchanged looks, then Don nodded. “Done. Five hundred–dollar Nassau.”
They had played even on the first two holes, birdie, par. Now he was in the fairway of the third in three. He would lose the hole and go one down. It was exactly what he wanted.
“We’re up by one,” Victor said.
“Maybe Bobby Boy here would like to increase the bet. Say, a thousand.”
“A thousand?” he asked.
“That’s right. You’ve made your mistake. Don’t figure you’re going to make a lot more from here on out.”
With no money, he could afford to lose only one of the bets. He had to have at least one very good side and a decent score on the other so that he would take two of the three bets, win a thousand, and be on his way. If he didn’t, he was in trouble. He didn’t have the thousand, and he hadn’t had the hundred, either. Neither did he have an obvious way to get it. He was pretty much tapped. He would need to lose a couple more to make it convincing, which meant he would have to win four or five holes by at least a stroke. That was doable. “Okay. Fuck me for a fool. A thousand.”
“Oh yeah,” Victor said. “Now we got a game.”
Bobby bogeyed the third, Don and Victor each parred it, Don lipping out his birdie putt, then giving Bobby a smile. They played the par-three fourth hole even, Bobby and Don birdieing it, Victor parring. They did the same on the fifth, with Victor getting the birdie to match Bobby’s.
At six, he was still one stroke down, feeling pretty good about the way this was going. Don and Victor had the tee, and both put good shots into the middle of the fairway just beyond the beginning of the dogleg. Bobby teed his high and hit a long fade that took the turn and left him little more than an eight iron to the green.
Bobby dropped his eagle putt, Don parred, and Victor bogeyed from the fescue in front of the green. Bobby picked up two strokes and went one up.
On the seventh, Don made the birdie to tie Bobby. On the eighth, Bobby’s tee shot ended up in the rocky burnout in the right rough, and he carded his second bogey. Don and Victor both parred. They were even after eight.
On the ninth, Bobby’s drive put him just in front of the green, forty-five yards out. Both Don and Victor were behind him some forty yards. Don got his second shot to within fifteen feet, Victor was at the very back of the green thirty-five feet away. Bobby followed with an easy wedge to within six feet. Victor lagged to within five feet, but Don put his in for a birdie. Bobby had an easy six-footer with a little right-to-left break at the end. His ball rolled toward the hole, hopped on an old ball mark, and lipped out.
“Damn. Did you see that?”