Golf In A Parallel Universe

by Jimmy Bloodworth

  Zack and I go into the Player's Locker room and put up our gear. There are a few players in there,everyone is beat. Playing golf in windy conditions will zap the energy out of you. Some players are upset on their bad rounds and a couple congratulate me on my good round today. I am in good spirits. Zack and I get things put away and talk about the strategy tomorrow. I told him I am relaxed but confident and I will be ready tomorrow. We walk out of the locker room into the hall of the club house.

  As we are walking down the hallway we see three people at the end of the hall. They are standing there and they look like they are waiting to see us. One of them is Jerry Churchill . The other is the PGA President David Hicks. And the third person is a man in a suit and tie. He looks familiar to me but I cannot remember where I have seen him before. All three of them had a serious look on their faces. As we get to them, I spoke out smiling. “Ah, Man! you saw me ground that wedge in the sand trap didn't you?” Jerry and Mr. Hicks smiled, but they seemed nervous. The other gentlemen, did not quite get what I was joking about. He obviously is not a golfer. He held out his hand to shake my hand. “Mr. Galloway, Agent Phillips FBI. I am the first agent you met a few weeks ago Charlotte NC," he said in a professional tone. “Ah, yeah” I said shaking my head as I shook his head. I was wondering what he was doing here. “Mr. Galloway can we talk a minute and he opened his hand and pointed to an open door that lead into a room. "Sure," I replied. “Alone?," he said as he looked at Zack.

  "This is my caddie, he goes where I go. He can be part of this meeting," I replied. “OK fine, he said looking at both of us with agreement. The five us walked in the door and sat down at the tables. This was some type of small banquet room with round tables and some chairs. I could not imagine why he is here to see me. The only thing I could think of is this must be some type of follow up from the investigation of the Dafford Hilton case.

  As we sat down I could tell there was something serious going on. Everyone was quiet and Agent Phillips looked concerned. I am thinking this is not just a routine follow up. He took a deep breath. “Mr. Galloway. I got some bad news for you regarding Dafford Hilton," he said looking at me very seriously. I looked at him. “Ok, but I thought that this is all over since he committed suicide. I was free'd last Friday from the Protective Custody Program," I said looking at him with my hands held up in a “what are you talking about” type of gesture.

  He put his hands together and put them on the table and looked at me very seriously. I knew he was about to tell me something important. But I could not image what he was about to say. “Mr Galloway it turns out that he is not dead. He is alive and well. And we believe he has come here to track you down."

  I was stunned. “What!?," I screamed out while leaning back in my chair. “Agent Keller told me that he shot himself in the head and the Police verified his identity!," I cried out emotionally. He had his lips tight together looking down at the table and then looked up at me. “The small town local police in Georgia that found the body were tricked on this one. They took the fingerprints of the body at the scene. Now days this is high tech, not with ink and paper. They have a scanner they use to scan each finger. They scanned all ten fingers, and it was a perfect match. This is routine and happens all the time. The FBI confirmed the prints. The body matched the description. And we ordered an autopsy which is standard procedure. This area in the South East of the United States where the body was found is in a rural area. They were not able to get the body to the Coroner's office in a timely manner. And then they did not get to the process of doing the autopsy for a few days. Sometimes this happens in small town jurisdictions. They ran the dental records and took a DNA sample which they sent out and it took a couple of days to get. And turns out that the Dental records and the DNS was not a match."

  “But what about the fingerprints” I asked. “That's where he got us, he replied slamming his fist on the table. "He copied his fingerprints and put them on another person, he said in a disgusted manner."

  “What? How could he do that I asked” in a confused tone. “Well,” replied Agent Phillips. You may remember when I told you that this guy was a Marine Sniper and those guys have a unique skill set. They are trained to think outside the box and do whatever they can do obtain their objective. He got a hold of a high tech scanner. He scanned his finger printers. He also had 3-D printer. He printed his fingerprints on a very thin membrane latex material. Then he found this guy, which was a homeless guy. Same age, same build and similar looks to himself. He recruited this guy and scammed him someway to trick him in thinking he was helping him. He carefully glued these copied fingerprints on his fingers. He probably conned him in thinking he could do some crime and not get caught because his fingerprints would not be tracked. So he carefully and very skillfully put his fingerprints on this guy. Then when he was not looking, he shot him in the head, and made it look like a suicide."

  “Damn!," I shouted out. “Sound like this is right of a Spy Novel," I said. “Yep” replied Agent Phillips. “And we do not know where he is. He may have skipped the country. Or he could be hiding somewhere far from here. However, he could be here, tracking you down. Georgia is not that far from here. He had plenty of time to get here via stolen car or hitch hiking." Agent Phillips looked me in the eye. “Look Mr. Galloway. You are in danger. We need to put you into protective custody again until we catch this guy."

  I just sat back stunned. I cannot believe this happening to me. Seems like every time I get a little break and things start going well, something happens. I was pissed. I slammed my fist on the table. “Look!," I screamed out. I am tired of running! I am tired of this guy destroying my life. Hell, bring him on! I will kick his Ass!," I screamed out loud, slamming my fist on the table again. Everyone was stunned with my outburst. Except Agent Phillips. He is a trained professional with the FBI. I am sure he has seen all reactions from people like me. He just sat there with a concerned look on his face. He was calm and professional.

  “I understand Mr. Galloway," he said calmly. About that time. Zack, who has always been there for me and has got me out of lots of Jams in my day, at least on the Golf course. Put his hand on my shoulder. “Easy there Big Fellow," he said in a joking laughing tone. “Be Careful, I did not know you had that in you," he said smiling. That loosened things up and everyone started smiling. I smiled a little also. “Yeah, like I am going to kick anyone’s Ass, I said chuckling. "However” I said looking at him. “Agent Phillips. “I am tired of running. And I don’t know if you know anything about professional golf, but I am on the verge to have a chance to make Golf History tomorrow. I am tied for the lead in this tournament and if I win, then I will win the Grand Slam of golf, which has never been done. At least not in modern times. I want to do this, I want to play tomorrow," I said slamming my fist down on the table again.

  “I am with you, we have gone this far, I am ready to finish this thing as well," Zack told me. I turned and gave him a fist pump. We all discussed this for a few minutes. Agent Phillips said that they cannot force me to go into Protective Custody. He told me that If I play they will have security here. But he made it very clear that if Dafford Hilton is here it may be difficult to protect me. He explained that he could be in the Gallery with a handgun. Or he could be sitting in a tree or a building several hundred yards outside the golf course property with a sniper rifle and he can pick me off. But I still did not want to give in. After quite a bit of consultation between the five of us, they let me have my way. He told me that they will have very tight security tomorrow. They will have Metal Detectors that everyone will go though. And they will even have high tech Facial Recognition cameras which will be able to pick Dafford Hilton out of a crowd. “You're not the first professional Athlete that has had to go through something like this. You would be surprised how many professional athletes had to suit up for a game, knowing they have a threat and that someone may be pointing a gun at them from the crowd," he told me.

  “I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or not, I
replied shaking my head. "Mr. Galloway, can we at least take you to a different hotel tonight than the one you have been staying at the last few days?," he asked.

  “Sure fine, with me. As long as they have beer. I think I need a beer after all of this," I said smiling. “I think we can manage that," he said with a grin.

  We finished things up, and I told Zack that we will meet here tomorrow about 11:00 am. I have a 1:00 pm tee time. They took me to the hotel. I got in my room and just started trying to process all of this. I just could not believe that this was all happening again. Just when things seemed to start going good, then this happens. I noticed they had beer in the fridge so I grabbed one. I told myself, that I deserve at least one beer tonight. I sat down by the window. I drank my beer and looked out at the window at view like I always like to do. I always enjoy sitting down and looking at the view and think about things. It is relaxing. I took one sip of beer. Then I realized. "This is not a good place to be unless I want to get shot," I told myself as I got up and closed the curtain and moved away from the window. I was pissed that I am now paranoid. I did not even want the rest of my beer, I emptied the bottle in the sink and threw it away.

  I sat down on the side of the bed with my head in my hands. That stupid voice is coming back louder than ever, screaming at me that we need to go home. I get up and pace around the room. My head feels like it is going to split. “The hell with this, get a hold of yourself” I tell myself. At that moment I made up my mind to just get pissed and not get scared and not let this overwhelm me. I felt that same courage again when I was in the conference room and I screamed out loud that I want to kick Dafford Hilton’s ass. After that I settled down. After thinking about this some more I decided, not even to be mad. I will just just relax and keep my emotions under control. After that I was fine.

  I wanted to call Emily, but I did not want to talk to her. I did not want to let her know about all of this and get her upset. I know it would be hard on her. If I talked to her I know that would not be able to keep it together. I gave her a quick text. I told her that I am beat and I am going to bed early and that I love her. She replied back that she loved me and said good night.

  At that point I start to realize my live is important to other people now, such as her and my future child. I now feel selfish that I may be putting my life on the line tomorrow. But somehow, I convince myself that everything will be OK tomorrow. I rationalize to myself that maybe Dafford Hilton skipped the country or hiding in the hills.

  I go to bed and fall right to sleep fast. I have the same dreams of being back in the small town with this family. The faces are getting more clear. In the dream, no one says anything at all. They seem to be preparing for me to come home. They seem to think that I will be coming home soon. And in the dream I feel the same way.

  Sunday Morning, final day of the PGA Championship. Before we left the hotel, Agent Phillips went over the details of the security for the day. He told me that they will have two or more security personnel with me at all times. It will be a combination of FBI agents and the local police. They will follow me everywhere before and after the round. And during the round there will be one walking down each side of the fairway inside the ropes. They will be watching the crowds for any suspicious activity. They even wanted me to wear a bulletproof vest. I told them that would not be possible. I cannot wear that and make a good golf swing. Besides that, it's going to be a hot sunny day.

  After he went over all the details, they took me to the course. We arrived about 10:45 am. I have a 1:00 pm tee time. Security was tight. Everyone including players, staff and media had to go through metal detectors. The public was not aware of why security was so tight. If anyone asked, they were told it was just routine procedure. I met up with Zack. At first we did not talk about all that has transpired the last few hours. We just did our normal pre-tournament routine. Zack had scouted out the course this morning and we went over the pin placements. We went over our strategy. “The course is playing much different today," Zack told me. “How So?," I asked. “Today there is not much wind like yesterday. But it will be hot and sunny today. And because of the windy and hot conditions yesterday, the greens and the fairways are really dried out. They did not water much last night. So the fairways and the greens are super fast. And the pin places are insane today. Since the fairways are hard as a rock. I can see the them causing major problems today. Especially for long hitters. If they hit their shots hot, on the outside part of the fairway, they will not stay in the fairway. Distance is not the key today. You will get plenty of that with the hard fairways. The key is to keep your drives in the fairway,," he explained.

  “Sounds like I should use my three wood instead of my driver on some holes." I replied. “Short and in the middle beats the rough," he said smiling.

  “So," said Zack in a concerning tone. “How do you feel today? How do you feel about all this mess that has transpired the last few hours? Are you going to be able to play today? It’s never too late to back out you know?”

  “I’m fine," I said in a defiant tone. “I am not going to let this guy get into my head. “OK, sounds good, he replied as we made our way to the practice green. “I got you back, you can depend on me." I told him that I know that he does. And I appreciate that. But I was extremely nervous.

  We started walking to the practice range. All this time we had plain clothes security personnel with us every step. They seemed very professional. I am pretty sure they were FBI. They would be just a few feet away from us at all times. They blended in the background and the crowd probably did not know they were there. But I felt paranoid. I felt myself looking at every face in the crowds. I was suspicious of everyone. If I saw someone about the same age, height and weight of Dafford Hilton, I would really watch them. I had visions of him jumping out of the crowd and shooting me. And when I was away from the crowd. I would feel like I was a sitting duck waiting for him to pick me off with his sniper rifle. I could just image a bullet ripping me in the chest or in the head.

  We hit balls for a while and I was not hitting the ball well at all. Zack could tell that I was distracted. We went to the practice green to work on my chipping and putting and it was more of the same. I felt terrible. I was scared. Zack could tell that I was I was having a difficult time. Jerry Churchill was watching me and he could tell that I was having trouble as well. He came over and talked to me smiling and asking me if I am ready to make a run at the championship today. I told him I was, but I was not too convincing.

  He asked if he could talk to me for a minute, and I said sure. We walked over in an area away from the crowd. “Look, Jim. It's not too late to call this thing off. It's just a golf tournament when you break it all down," he said. “Nope I am not pulling out. I am going for it today," I replied. He shook his head in agreement. “Alright then. But you are going to have to be mentally strong today. In my years I have had similar things happen to me. When I was playing in my Prime I had death threats against me quite often my first few years on the tour,"

  “Really?, I replied in a surprised tone. “Yep," he replied shaking his head. “Some people did not like the idea, of this little short guy from Britain, coming here to the United States and winning these American tournaments. Especially the US Open. So I know how you feel. I also had to play in tournaments where I had some outside pressure such as when my pregnant wife had to go into the hospital and had an early delivery of one of our kids. I was thousands of miles away and there was nothing I could do. I had played many of times when someone in my family was sick. I even had to play one tournament when I found my wife and two kids were hurt in a car wreck back home. They were OK, but it was extremely difficult for me.

  “Yeah," I can imagine, I told him. “Ok," here is the key he said. “First of all, you are not going to block out all the feeling as you play today. But try to realize that you have a lot of security and hopefully Dafford Hilton is not here. But the real secret to your success today is when you set up to hit the ball. You have to totall
y block out the outside world for those few seconds, just like Gus taught you. He taught you that for a reason because there are always going to be distractions. You can freak out all you want in between shots. But you have to concentrate more than ever for those few seconds, to make a good swing. If you do that you will be fine," he assured me.

  “Makes sense to me, I will do that," I replied. I know he is right, and I made up my mind to do this. I thanked him for the advice and I told him, I will do my best today. He shook my hand and said goodbye. Then he stopped and turned around. “One more thing” he said in a concerned tone. “Give me 30 seconds. Remember what I told you in Chicago. I know you do not believe me, but it does not matter now. It only Matters later. He looked at me and said that phrase. “Keep it Parallel Jim, Keep it Parallel." And he turned and walked away.

  At that point, I did not feel he was crazy for some reason. After all of that, I was somewhat relaxed. Zack and I prepared for the tournament. And before we knew it it was time to tee off. We were on the first tee at 12:55pm. Cory McCullough and I shook hands, and the Starter got us going. I could tell that Cory was extremely focused. And he had no idea on what I was going though. This was going to be a battle today. He and I were tied for the lead. And we had a two stroke lead over the field. I was ready to go head to head with this guy. My competitive juices were flowing. At that point I decided to block all the outside distractions and just channel all that emotional energy to beating this guy and taking this Championship.

  We both hit good drives off the tee. I was especially happy to that I hit a good drive on the first hole. As we are walking down the middle of the fairway I realized that I will not able to block out the fact that I may be in the Scope of a Sniper Rifle. But somehow I was able to deal with it. We both birdied the first hole. “Game on” I told Zack as we walked to the second tee. He could tell that I was back in form. The next few holes Cory and I were trading punches. He would make a birdie and, then I would get it back with a birdie when he pared. We were still tied for the day after seven holes. Hole 8 is a long par 4. I crushed my drive right down the middle. I had a short iron to the green and knocked it two feet from the hole. Cory’s drive was long, but he was out of the fairway. He hit his second shot in a bunker by green. But he was able to get up and down for a par. I tapped in my Birdie. Going into number nine, I was one stroke ahead of him for the tournament. We noticed by scoreboard watching that the guys in front of us have lost some ground on us. So looks like just me and Cory will be the one's battling for the Championship.