Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, September 22, 1993 TAG: 9309220151
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: RANDY KING
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
An 18-handicap hacker teeing it up with a former Masters and U.S. Open champion? Playing in front of a gallery?
I shuddered at the thought. My first reaction was to say thanks, but no thanks.
But the next day, I got to thinking: Hey, this is tales-to-grandkids material, and here I'm thinking about whiffing an opportunity of a lifetime.
So I said, "Go for it." Fuzzy Zoeller? Bring him on. I'm ready.
At least I was until 1 p.m. Tuesday at Hunting Hills Country Club. There I was, standing on the seventh tee box with one of the PGA Tour's biggest names and three area club champions, all of whom could clean my clock.
My first thought was to cry "back injury." I couldn't use that one, though. That's Fuzzy's line.
And all these people. The 200 or so at that point might as well have been 2,000. The biggest crowd I had ever played in front of before Tuesday was three.
Then came the real moment of truth. It was my turn to hit.
"I can't wait to see this," Fuzzy said as I nervously placed my ball on the tee. "I've never seen a sportswriter who could play, yet."
Good players all have swing keys. Well, my swing key was simple: Just make contact.
Unbelievably, I caught it right in the screws, the ball traveling approximately 240 yards dead down the middle.
"How are those pants, Randy?" Fuzzy asked, insinuating my nervousness may have sparked some kind of problem.
Walking down the fairway, Fuzzy decided it was time to work on my head. "I think you're bogus," he said. "You ain't no 28-handicapper or whatever you said you were."
After I jerked my 155-yard approach shot left of the green and made bogey-5, Fuzzy quickly altered his opinion, hollering, "Boy, you'd better keep your day job."
The adrenaline flowing inside my body like never before, I pumped another frozen rope - at least for me it was - off the tee at the par-4 eighth, leaving myself only 90 yards to the hole. From that point, I hit a beautiful wedge that flew right over the top of the pin to 18 feet. Two-putt par. So far, so good.
Then reality set in. After a well-placed tee shot at the dogleg par-4 ninth, I jerked a 5-wood left off a sidehill lie. Stymied behind a tree, I played a low-runner third shot that scooted over the green.
Before I hit my chip shot, Fuzzy said, "I haven't seen a 7 today, Randy." Two minutes later, he had.
"Seven. On tour, we call that a walking stick," Fuzzy said.
Yeah, walking stick. By this point, the only walking sticks I needed come in a glass . . . as in 7-Up and Seagram's 7.
Somehow, I got through Nos. 10 and 11 with bogeys, hitting the pin on a chip shot at 10 to save a 5.
At my final hole, the par-4 12th, I played two solid shots to the green. After running a 70-footer four feet past the cup, I hunched over the putter for the par effort.
"This is for the Screen Door Open championship," Fuzzy muttered as I addressed the putt.
As I took the putter back, I heard this disconcerting whooshing sound. Zoeller, always the prankster, had grabbed the pin and swung it like a baseball bat over my head.
I missed the putt, but Fuzzy said, "We all knew you could make it. That was good."
It wasn't near as good as the experience. Fuzzy, in his joking, comical fashion, made it comfortable for everybody, even the out-of-place hacker.
"Hey, we're out here to have fun, and who gives a damn what you shoot," Zoeller said. "I know I don't."
"Just remember you can always take up bowling. At least in bowling, when you hit a [lousy] shot the ball comes back to you."
Fuzzy's final analysis of my game wasn't all bad.
"The best part of your game is that you're fast," Zoeller told me. "You don't mess around out there, and I like that. But you really should trying using a new ball every now and then. That one you've got has nine shades of color. And those shoes? I don't know where you found them. And those woods? You say you paid $30 for all three? Well, boy, you got robbed."
Nobody was robbed Tuesday, however. Before the day was over, Zoeller had entertained some 1,200 fans with his shot-making ability - he casually carded a 1-over-par 71 without making a concentrated effort - post-round clinic, jokes and one-liners.
"It was really some experience," said Hanging Rock club champion Ted Comer, who shot 74 to capture the Champion of Champions title by one shot over Hidden Valley's Greg Caldwell and Botetourt Country Club's Scott Prince.
"Man, it was nerve-wracking at first playing with him," Comer said. "I bogeyed three of the first four holes with him. I was much more nervous than any tournament I've been in. But Fuzzy has a way of settling people down.
"About all I will remember from this day is that I played with a U.S. Open and Masters champion. You know, I still can't believe it."
Neither can the hacker.
by CNB