Man Down: Part One, Or Tequila Bill: Part One

Roybob’s Book on Golf: The Hucks, A Golfer’s Divine Comedy, and a Religious Philosophy of Golf

Huck Tales

Man Down: Part One, Or Tequila Bill: Part One

Every year, near Christmas, the Hucks hold an event referred to as “The Dash for Cash,” or, for short, “The Dash.”  In addition to our usual game, everyone puts up a pleasing sum of money that goes to the winner of the points game.  We use a modified Stableford system to determine one’s points: three and a half points for birdie, two points for par, one for bogey.  We measure one’s points against the sum of thirty-six minus one’s handicap.  If someone were a five handicap, for example, he would subtract five from thirty-six, and the sum of thirty-one would be the number of points the player strives to attain or surpass.  The winner of the Dash stands to win a sizeable sum, but he will also be responsible for what is ordinarily a very hefty bar tab that may surpass more than half the amount of his winnings.

One year at the Dash for Cash, we had groups going off the front and back nines.  One foursome included Joe and a man who, because of the events recounted in this story, came to be called Tequila Bill.  Tequila Bill already had a history with the group.  A few months earlier, he and a Huck called Fresh were motoring down the cart path on the fifth hole, making their way to their second shots.  Tequila Bill, in the driver’s seat, was observing one of Golden Eagle’s cart girls as she came up the hole from the opposite direction.  Golden Eagle has a reputation for employing some very attractive cart girls.  Caught up in his flights of fantasy, Tequila Bill ran into an oak tree just off the right side of the cart path.  He did not graze the oak tree; he hit it square.  After a few seconds of damage assessment, uproarious laughter ensued, even on the part of the cart partner, Fresh.  The two remained in the cart as Tequila Bill backed up and then set off again.  WHAM!  They slammed straight back into the same oak tree!  The first strike had broken the front axle, so the tires were stuck in the same position.  They had to back the cart several yards and then maneuver their way to their balls by driving in circles.  A call to the cart barn brought a fresh, undamaged cart.  In a couple of weeks, Tequila Bill received a $500.00 bill from Golden Eagle to cover the insurance deductible on the cart.

During the Dash for Cash, Joe and Tequila Bill thought that their foursome was in front of a foursome that included J.K. and my foursome.  J.K. and I like to drink Crown Royal, and Joe and Tequila Bill thought they would throw J.K. and me off our games by buying up all the Crown Royal from the drink cart.  As they drank the Crown, they would stack the empty little bottles in pyramids on the tee boxes.  J.K. was indeed behind Joe and Tequila Bill, and he was not happy about the Crown block.  I, however, was on the opposite nine, not behind Joe and Tequila Bill, and by the time the drink cart got around to me, the delightful server had already reloaded.  I did not go without my Crown, a fact contributing to my victory that year.

By the close of their round, Joe and Tequila Bill had consumed a great deal of Crown.  The golf ended, but the drinking continued on Golden Eagle’s back porch.  Tequila Bill, well into the juice, invited everyone to join him in shots of Patron, a fine Tequila.  We were all agreeable, but we secretly told the server to bring us shots of water rather than Patron.  Since Patron was clear in color and since we all knew how to act, Tequila, Bill was not aware of our deception.  After three or four shots, Bill rose from the porch table and began to waddle away.  Two posts lined the exit from the porch.  Bill hit the right post first, and then he bounced into the left one.  Clear of the posts, he disappeared into the darkness, presumably, we thought, to empty his bladder.

Not long thereafter, a guy called Peedrow, a mere acquaintance at the time, was leaving the club restaurant with his dinning guests.  Peedrow was enjoying a “fine dining” experience when he saw Tequila Bill bumble down to a lake by the clubhouse and fall on the ground.  Peedrow is a large man, and he has a big voice.  As the door was shutting behind him, he announced, “Boys, I think you’ve got a man down.”  A couple of our guys, then, ran to Bill’s rescue.

Since Bill and I lived close to one another, I went to get my vehicle so that I could take him home.  When the guys informed Bill that I was coming to pick him up, Bill was grateful, but, with his drunken speech, the boys were confused.  Bill was trying to say, “Oh yeah, Roy’s my neighbor.”  The guys, however, were certain that he was making a racial slur against me, “Oh yeah, Roy’s my n.….”

We got him into my truck, and I drove him home.  Halfway home, I had to stop so he could open the truck door and disgorge the night’s toxic mix, much of which, of course, ended up on my truck door.  After he had heaved for a while, I noticed that he was slipping out of the truck, and I had to pull him back into his seat.  I escorted him to the front door of the house, rang the doorbell, and fled in a cowardly manner, leaving him alone to deal with his wife.

Peedrow, the guy who informed us that we had a man down, decided the same evening that he wanted to play with the Hucks.  Though more of a social member than a golfing member, Peedrow has been a part of the group ever since.  In fact, he and his wife gave birth to the Bob family: Woody Bob, Donna Sue Bob, Roybob, Ricky Bob, Billy Bob, Markey Bob, Johnny K. Bob, Bobby Bob, Timmy Bob, Kimmy Lou Bob, et cetera.  All the Bobs are connected with the Hucks in one way or another.

The Dash for Cash has since occasioned many acts of foolishness.  Oddly enough, even though the Dash is held in December, the event has been an occasion for some of the Hucks to demonstrate their swimming prowess.  One year, while sitting around the table, a Huck nicknamed Jeffrow offered Fresh a hundred dollars if he would swim out to the decorated Christmas tree located on the lake next to the clubhouse.  Without hesitation and without thought, Fresh walked into the lake, shoes and all, and began swimming.  He made it there and back, got Jeffrow’s hundred dollars, but was sick for the next two weeks.  He got home that night soaking wet and smelly, and he informed his wife about what he had done.  She simply shook her head and pleaded, “Please don’t tell the children.”  She was sooo… proud!

At yet another Dash for Cash, Joe and a Huck, who will become known as Tequila Bill II, challenged each other to a swimming match in the club pool.  Joe, at some point, lost the underwear in which he was swimming and began going in the wrong direction.  Joe appeared much faster than Tequila Bill II, but there is still controversy about the outcome.

Roybob’s Book on Golf: The Hucks, A Golfer’s Divine Comedy, and a Religious Philosophy of Golf

{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }

Buddy Romero March 13, 2011 at 9:34 pm

Roy, I have really enjoyed reading the stories. My goal as a Huck is to never do anything so stupid that I become a character in one of your stories.

I think there is a typo in the second paragraph. Should the word be ensued rather than ensured?

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Roy Barineau, Ph. D. March 13, 2011 at 10:55 pm

Buddy, don’t worry. In every story, I’ve changed your name to “Joe.” Nobody will ever know! Thanks for the typo correction.

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Tequila Bill II March 14, 2011 at 10:37 am

Roy, I do not believe there is any controversy over the outcome of that race! Joe could not find the finnish line so I won!

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Roy Barineau, Ph. D. March 14, 2011 at 10:49 am

Tequila Bill II, I’m on your side, but I’m sure Joe will have something to say on the matter.

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Wrongway Joe March 14, 2011 at 11:31 am

It was a speed event, not an accuracy one. Army 2, Michigan State 0.

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