...of worthless golf course employees, no individual is a bigger waste that the marshal. In an effort to keep play at a reasonable speed, the octagenerian will circle the course, in the search of the most shady spot for relaxation, while the third tee has a three group backup and the guy in jean shorts with a towel hanging from his back pocket is on his third mulligan.
In an ideal setting, which should exist, the role of marshal would be rendered obsolete. Groups would advance at a reasonable pace of play, and if they were being pressed, they would let the faster group play through, preferrably on a par-3. A simple premise.
The most ridiculous/brazen example of a marshal's stupidity was a round in the summer of 2004 at Cannon Ridge in Fredericksburg, VA. Our group had reached the 15th tee (195 yd. par-3) when the marshal cart approached from its low moan in the distance, delaying our tee shots.
"Gentlemen, your group is ten minutes behind the pace, please speed up your play."
"Sir, there isn't a group within four holes of us."
(pulls away)
In my shock I was rendered incapable of any further response, which was most likely to my benefit, as I would have been asked to leave the property. The resulting shot was a pulled/fuming 7 iron to 25 feet (miraculous). In retrospect, instead of struggling to project an incensed tee ball, I should have been asking for an autograph from the stupidest man alive.
1 comment:
you play too much golf. get a job or a more self-destructive habit.
I recommend George Dickel and rock and roll.
Post a Comment