Man Down: Part Two, or Fuji’s Fiasco

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

Huck Tales

Man Down: Part Two, or Fuji’s Fiasco

After a Friday afternoon round, the Hucks were enjoying drinks and cigars on Golden Eagle’s patio. Fuji, with the encouragement of Burger, was enjoying a double gin martini. A Huck, who enjoys almost any kind of gambling and whom we shall call Bud, issued a challenge, “Fuji, I bet you a hundred bucks you can’t drink five of those martinis and then make par on number one before dark.”

After a little back and forth, the challenge was accepted, and Fuji began working on his five double gin martinis. He had already drunk about ten beers on the course, a factor that would indicate greater difficulty for the challenge. Another Huck, L.A., sensing a chance to make a buck, placed a side bet of another hundred with Burger but against Fuji. Ricky Bob and I were encouraging Fuji to guzzle the five martinis as quickly as possible and head out immediately before the gin could take effect. Fuji went through the first four fairly quickly, but the last one went down slow.

By this time, a couple of wives had shown up, and the whole horde went to the first tee to watch Fuji attempt his par. He was stumbling around and certainly appeared to be drunk. But, then, he hit his tee ball. Fuji is good player, and he hits the ball a long way. He blistered the ball with his three metal about 265 yards straight down the middle. At this point, a few of us begin to suspect that Fuji was not as drunk as he seemed. We would be proven wrong.

Fuji jumped in the cart with Burger; and, with about fifteen people following, the two of them headed down the fairway. Burger informed Fuji that they had an additional bet for another hundred dollars. Burger said, “Don’t worry about the money; I’ll cover you.” Fuji responded, “I’m not worried about the money; where’s my ball?” Burger pointed to the side of the cart, which had now stopped, and said, “Your ball is right there.”

Fuji was left with about 135-yard, uphill shot. It was at this point we began to realize that Fuji was not faking his drunkenness. He hit it somewhat fat, but the ball did clear the front bunker, though just barely, and landed just off the green on the left side. One of the wives, whom we shall call Saint, called her husband, Joe, who was in New York on another golfing adventure. Saint told Joe the situation and asked him, “How do I bet?” Joe asked, “Is Fuji still standing?” Saint replied, “Yes.” Joe said, “Bet on Fuji.” My wife was present and somehow got into a bet of her own; she won a hundred dollars from somebody.

Fuji had about a thirty-five foot chip. When the chip ended up ten feet left, no one doubted Fuji’s inebriated condition. When he lined up the putt, he fell over backwards and almost rolled into the trap. Harkening to a phrase with which both he and I were familiar during our early morning workouts, I shouted, “Rebound Fuji, Rebound! Rebound Fuji, Rebound!” Fuji gathered himself, realigned the putt, and made the stroke. Despite its rapid pace, the ball scurried in the side of the hole. Those who were rooting for Fuji were elated and cheerful, but even those who lost money on the evening’s events felt good about the entertainment they had seen.

The horde made its way back to the patio. Bets were settled, and jibes were exchanged. Fuji soon departed in his private golf cart. We were not too worried about him. He lived close by and seemed well off enough to make it home in a golf cart. We later learned that he made it as far as the tennis courts before he pulled over for a nap. Bud and L.A. saw him when they left. They woke him up and followed him home, at least to the point where he turned off to his house.

Meanwhile, back at the patio, after a couple of hours, our thoughts turned to Fuji. My wife was particularly concerned. I called his house at least fifty times; no one answered. My wife and I drove to his house. As we turned into the driveway, I saw his cart, lights still turned on, parked next to the unattached suite and garage. I did not, however, see Fuji until I walked up next to the cart. There he lay, on the ground, coiled in fetal position with ants crawling all over him. I woke him and told him, “You’ve got to get up.” He replied, “Roy, I can’t get up.” I left Fuji under the care of my wife and went inside the house to get Fuji’s son, a sixteen-year-old. When I informed him about his father’s condition, he said, “I wondered what he was doing out there. I saw him drive up, but he never came in.” The son did not have a good reason for why he did not answer the phone one of the fifty times I called.

The son and I went outside to help Fuji up. We learned that, for some reason, the garage door would not open, so he could not get the cart inside. In exasperation, he sat down in the cart, passed out, and tumbled to the ground. As his son, my wife, and I helped Fuji upstairs to his room, Fuji informed his son that if he told his mom about this, he would not be going to college. The mom, Fuji’s wife, was out of town. She would have been soo… proud! We got Fuji into bed, and my wife began to remove his clothes, a process in which, even in his stupor, he seemed to take great delight.

On the next afternoon, Fuji, my wife and I were going over to Ricky Bob’s for a little barbeque. My wife and I picked up Fuji, and we headed to Rick’s. We had to stop at a grocery store, though, so that my wife could get something. Rather than park, I just drove around the parking lot, waiting for my wife to reappear at the door. After a few minutes of this, Fuji turned to me and said, “If you don’t park this vehicle, I’m going to throw up all over it.” In the course of six hours over at Ricky Bob’s house, Fuji nursed one beer. I do not think he has ordered another gin martini since that night.

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

{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }

Vanessa April 19, 2015 at 1:58 pm

This is one of my favorite Hicks tales! Especially since I was present… love you crazy guys!

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Roy M. Barineau, Ph. D. April 19, 2015 at 6:02 pm

Thanks Vanessa. Yes, you lived through a few of these stories.

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