by James Ross
“Whew! I need something to warm me up,” Elia said to Julie. He had on thermal underwear, a sweatshirt, a windbreaker, a hooded sweatshirt and a stocking cap. “It isn’t this cold in Beirut.” He grabbed a cup of coffee that Julie had placed on the counter.
Fred and Pork Chop, the two behemoths, hurried to the back booth. In due time Paco, YouWho, Curt, BT, Captain Jer, Dr. DV, Scottie P and Opur followed. What had been a little lull in the action suddenly turned into a room full of hustle and bustle. Julie was running drinks and sandwiches around the room. Paul took off his golf shoes and handed them to BowTye. “The usual,” he said.
“I’ll tidy them up for you, Mister Paul,” the diminutive black man with the deep voice said with a smile. Wearing his usual burgundy beret, BowTye resumed his spot in the corner next to his work bench forever thankful that J Dub and Curt had given him a home after Katrina wiped him out.
“Say Opur, I’d like you to meet somebody,” Paul said after handing his shoes over. “This is Tyrone Munroe. He’s the clubhouse attendant. You might know him better as Peel It Backe. That’s his stage name.”
Opur towered above the man. He reached out and shook his hand. “I think we played some of your songs one summer.”
“Oh,” BowTye said. “Do you play? How did that come to be?”
“I filled in a few nights on the bass guitar at Stub’s Missing Digit with Daddy Mac.”
BowTye broke out in a smile from ear to ear. “You knows Daddy Mac?” Opur nodded. “Me and hims goes way back. We used to work awe of dem river towns from New Orleans to the Quad Cities.”
Their bond was instant. Opur took off his shoes and handed them to BowTye. “You’re hanging around good company if you know Paul and Daddy Mac.”
“And if it wasn’t for J Dub and Curt a lot of dat wouldn’t have happened.”
“What’s everyone doing for Thanksgiving?” Julie asked realizing that the vacation was only a few days away.
“I was planning on coming over here to play,” Fred yelled from the back booth.
“Yeah,” Pork Chop seconded. “You’re going to be open, aren’t you?”
Julie looked over to J Dub who was standing behind the counter. He was shaking his head positively. “You bet, unless we get a ton of rain or some snow. I’ll come in and open up. But I may take the flags out of the holes and not let you take the carts out.”
“You mean we might have to walk?” Pork Chop countered.
“There’s no way!” Fred shouted. “It’s all I’ve got to take it to the car after I leave here.”
“Put your fat ass on a diet,” Captain Jer barked. He turned to Julie, “Could you put a double shot of Irish whiskey in this, Jules?”
“Isn’t the coffee warm enough?”
Captain Jer sneered. “It either needed that or some brandy.” He stopped for a second to think. “Or maybe you could just hold the mug for a while. All that heat you generate might rub off.”
Julie rolled her eyes and headed for the counter as Opur grabbed a seat at the bar and signaled for a hot chocolate.
“Opur had the most skins today,” Fred said as he finished tabulating the bets.
“Surprise, surprise,” Julie said. “What are you guys doing playing him even up?”
“It’s the holidays,” Captain Jer said. “We’re in a giving mood.” He turned to Julie. “Wouldn’t you love to see what I’m going to give to you?”
“He shot a sixty-three,” Pork Chop said.
“We would have lost more if Scottie P didn’t shoot a sixty-seven,” Elia followed.
Captain Jer scribbled on a pad of paper. “Now who wants to go?” He took the cup of coffee from Julie. “I need a head count. Just raise your hands.”
“Go where?” Julie asked.
“Muscle Shoals,” Captain Jer answered.
“We’re going to go down and watch Opur play in The Classic,” Pork Chop explained.
“I’ll go if J Dub will let me off work,” Julie replied. “When are you going?”
“It’s the second weekend in May,” Elia said. “Captain Jer said he would fly us down there for the final day.”
“Can I take that back?” Julie asked, stunned to hear that the retired pilot was going to fly the plane. She looked at him like he was out of his mind.
“What’s wrong? You scared?” Captain Jer asked.
“Well . . . uh . . . no,” Julie stammered. She was at a rare loss of words. “Do you think you can be responsible for all of us?”
“Believe it or not I’ve piloted planes with hundreds of people on board.” He took a sip of his coffee and jerked his head back as the taste jolted him. “The guys want to go for a day so I told them I would get a Legacy Shuttle and get them down there for a day.”
“We decided to get tickets for Sunday,” Fred said.
“And leave on Saturday afternoon,” Pork Chop followed. “That’s over five months away,” Julie said.
“Yeah, but it might be the toughest sporting event in the country to get a ticket to,” Fred said, “and motel rooms will be next to impossible.”
Opur blushed at the attention that he was receiving. He turned to J Dub. “Whatever happened to Rollie and Easy Earl?” It had been years since the old timers had gathered and watched him putt on the green.
“They didn’t make it,” the pro explained. “Heart attacks. Both of them.”
“I’m sorry.”
“They lived full lives and loved it around here,” J Dub said. “Loved it so much that they were both on the grounds when the final minute came.”
“How about Bogey? Where’s he?”
J Dub didn’t want to tell him the real story about what happened to Bogey. “He’s under the mound down by the practice tee.” Opur gave the pro a funny look. “Old age. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Aw, he had the perfect life.”
“This might be a public golf course, but it was a country club to him,” J Dub said with a grin as he reflected on his longtime buddy.
Julie returned behind the counter. She motioned at Opur asking if he’d like a refill. He nodded. “It’s getting cold up here.” She poured hot water in his cup and placed a packet of cocoa mix on the counter. “When are you going to go to Florida?”
“I’m going to practice up here. I don’t think that I’m going to go this year,” Opur answered.
“Why not?”
“Morgan’s pregnant.”
J Dub’s jaw dropped. “What?”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Early May . . . 2009
Opur needed to get to Muscle Shoals a week early to get some practice rounds in before play was to begin. He and J Dub agreed to drive separate cars since Morgan planned on driving with Opur.
“We’re off,” Opur said enthusiastically as the pair began the drive. They left early on Sunday morning before the tournament was to begin on the next Thursday. He was hoping to get in a practice round that afternoon with J Dub taking notes and carrying his bag.
“I can’t think of anythin’ I’d rather be doin’ when I’m this pregnant,” Morgan said sarcastically.
“Let’s not get into all the negative stuff,” Opur said. “You knew that it would be six and a half hours in the car and you wanted to go.”
“Just be prepared to stop a few times. I need lots to drink and that means I’ll have to pee often.” She looked at him in frustration.
“We’ll figure it out.”
Morgan fanned her face with a magazine. “Let’s get that air conditionin’ cranked up. I can’t breathe in here.”
Opur hit the switch on the dashboard that increased the force of the blower. “Feel better?”
Morgan grinned. “And don’t forget about all that ice cream I’m gonna want.” She had been craving it for the last two months.
“Yes ma’am. Is there anything else? We need to make sure you’re comfortable.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you’re seein’ things that way.”
The pair took 1-64 to
1-57 south until it merged with 1-24. After getting through southern Illinois they crossed the Ohio River and headed toward Nashville. “I can’t believe all of this is happening,” Opur said as they drove through the Kentucky Lake complex south of Paducah. “It’s hard to guess which event is more important.”
“It better be me havin’ your child,” Morgan countered. “The next six weeks aren’t gonna be any picnic on the beach.” Her mood got a tad bit bitchy as she got kicked from within.
“That’s what I’m saying. There’s two things that are making this exciting,” Opur said. “Having a child and turning pro. Those are two things that are happening right now. This is our time!”
“You worry about what you can control,” Morgan said as she patted her belly, “and I’ll take care of this.”
“I’ve waited all my life for these two things. For them to be happening at once is wild,” Opur said. “If I can have a great week maybe I can set us up for a better life.”
“It’s all happenin’ fast for me too. I’ve only been on my job for a year and a half and I’ve already asked for a pregnancy leave.”
“Maybe you can quit your job if things work out well this weekend.”
“I like my job. I’m not gonna do that.”
“What is it you do anyway? You’re so secretive about it.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Oh come on. Why?”
“It’s for the government.”
Opur dreamed ahead. “Is St. Louis where you want to live?”
“My idea of my dream home wasn’t necessarily a two-bedroom apartment with a guy shackin’ up in it.” Morgan stretched her arms, reached behind her head and twisted her hair into a bun. Then she let it cascade down to her shoulders. “It’s fine for now but I can always get transferred. They like to do that so we can’t get known or attached to people.”
“If I start on the tour are you going to be able to travel with me to the events?”
“I doubt it. Right now we’re gonna have to figure out what to do with this baby.”
“Can your folks help out?”
“They’re in Alabama and are so busy workin’ they can’t even come see me this weekend,” she laughed. “So you better go out and make some money in the next few days to solve some of this mess we’re in.”
“So what are you hoping for, a boy or a girl?”
“I’d love a little girl,” Morgan said, content with her decision. “And you?”
“Every guy probably wants a son, but I know my mom would have loved a granddaughter. She was the only woman in our household and I can see her now holding a little girl on her lap.”
“We’ll find out in a few weeks.” Morgan reached over and massaged Opur’s shoulder.
“I’d love to have two girls that look like you in this family.”
“Then promise me you’ll do well.”
“I’m not going down there to have fun,” Opur said. “It will be a lot of work, but I’m going down here to try to win this thing.”
“Can you?” Morgan blurted. “I mean are you really that good?”
“Yeah, I can play with these guys. I just need an opportunity.”
“Here’s your chance. Don’t blow it.”
“I won’t. This one is for you, me and the little one.” Opur smiled. “And for all those guys at Prairie Winds that took real good care of me over the years.”
After taking 1-65 south out of Nashville Opur took US 72 west. The Muscle Shoals area in northwestern Alabama includes the towns of Tuscumbia, Sheffield and Florence. The region is tucked away near the state lines of Mississippi and Tennessee about halfway between Memphis and Nashville.
The site of The Classic was located on the banks of the Tennessee River with a pristine view of the water and tucked in a miniature forest of evergreens. The rolling land was originally owned by paper mills and donated for the sole purpose of hosting America’s greatest golfing event. The private and exclusive club included many of the country’s wealthiest individuals. Stepping onto the grounds was considered a once-in-a-lifetime privilege.
For Opur, a small town boy playing in his first major golfing event on American soil, it was a dream come true.
“Opur, this place is beautiful,” Morgan said as they turned onto the property and drove down a drive where red bricks were laid by hand. A canopy of flowering trees shielded cars from the sunlight.
After showing his player’s badge to the guard a hostess led the couple to their private cottage. The white-frame bungalow was located in a grove of magnolia and pine trees.
Private bed and breakfast cottages dotted the grounds and served as homes for the week for the golfing participants. The players had the opportunity to house their next of kin or in Opur’s case, girlfriend. Morgan returned to her home state a lot different than she left it. She was now seven and a half months pregnant.
A quaint three-story hotel housed the caddies and members of the media. The grounds were self-sufficient; all of the events of the week, self-contained. The practice area allowed the game’s longest hitters to put on a show. Putting greens, chipping areas and an eighteen-hole golf course were spread over the property.
All of this was provided to the participants that chased the coveted fedora. It was the most prized possession in all of golf.
“Now all we need to do is take home the fedora,” Opur said as he parked the car.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
“How’s he doing?” Fred said as the guys crowded around the television set in the clubhouse.
“Who gives a rat’s rear end?” Captain Jer barked. He was edgy and definitely concerned that the guys were going to miss their flight. The gang had gotten up early and played eighteen holes. Now it was barely eleven in the morning on Saturday and early round coverage of The Classic was being broadcast on cable.
“He hasn’t teed off yet,” Pork Chop chimed. “I’m sure we’re going to miss it since Jer scheduled the flight so late.”
“How did I know he was going to play his ass off this week?” the retired pilot griped. “I’ve got a big screen in the plane. We’ll watch The Classic on the way down there.”
“I haven’t missed a round of The Classic in over a decade,” Fred said.
“Me either,” Pork Chop added.
“You guys are welcome to stay here,” Captain Jer countered. He pushed a stool in their direction.
“No, no, no, no, no,” Fred backed off.
“They say every golfer has to step on those grounds before they pass on to golfer heaven,” Pork Chop followed.
“As big as you two are I doubt if you’ll see much of the course,” Captain Jer replied. He grabbed a diet soda from Julie. “In fact I’m hoping that neither one of you has the big one walking around the grounds.”
“Thanks for thinking of us,” Fred said.
“And for substituting a soda for beer,” Pork Chop added.
“There are some things I take seriously,” Captain Jer said. “If I’m flying I stay sober.” He looked at Julie. “Besides, she wouldn’t dream of giving me a beer, would you, Jules?” He winked at his favorite bartender. His blue eyes sparkled in contrast to his bronze face and perfectly trimmed silver hair.
“I’m not about to get up in the air with you if you’ve had anything to drink,” Julie said adamantly, “and that goes for coming back. If you don’t behave yourself down there then I’ll take the bus home.”
“It’s a business trip for me,” Captain Jer assured the group. “You people are absorbing the cost. I’ll get you down there and back.”
“How long will the flight take?” Julie asked.
“Seventy-five minutes tops,” the retired pilot answered.
“Good,” Pork Chop said, “maybe we won’t miss more than five or six holes.”
“Like I said, we’ll have a big screen on board,” Captain Jer promised. He turned to Dr. DV. “Have you got the van loaded up?”
The veterinarian answered, “We’re ready to go.” He looke
d around the clubhouse. “I’m taking a head count now. There’s you and me, Julie and Curt, Pork Chop, Fred, Elia, Scottie P, YouWho, BT and Paco. Am I forgetting anybody?”
Captain Jer put his hand up to his mouth and whispered, “That’s only eleven. You forgot the booger.”
“Jerry!” Julie yelled. “I warned you about that before.”
“That’s right,” Dr. DV agreed. “BowTye makes twelve.
“We’re all here.”
“Maybe you can get him to load the bags onto the plane,” Captain Jer joshed.
“Dammit, Jerry!” Julie yelled.
Captain Jer walked over to BowTye, shook his hand and gave him a hug. “You know I’m only kidding.”
BowTye burst into a wide smile. “I know that Mister Jer, but if I didn’t know you so well I’d bust your lip.”
“It’s only because I love you,” the retired pilot said.
“Time to hit it guys,” Dr. DV announced. “The taxi leaves in five minutes.”
Captain Jer turned to Julie. “Hope you’ve got the cooler packed for the fat boys.”
“Everyone’s a target for you, aren’t they Jer?”
Chapter Sixty
“I thought you said we’d be able to watch the broadcast,” Pork Chop complained as he strapped the seat belt around his ample belly.
“Yeah, there isn’t a television set in here,” Fred followed. The cabin of the Legacy Shuttle was modified to seat sixteen passengers comfortably. Leather-backed seats were positioned with plenty of leg room. Mahogany stained wood lined the walls. The galley was equipped with an oven, refrigerator and coffee maker for in-flight refreshments. The large screen was equipped to handle DVD, VCR or CD players. “We need a tape or disc to use this thing.”
“Yeah, I told you that you could watch The Classic,” Captain Jer said, “but what I didn’t tell you was that it was going to be a recording from last year. He tossed a disc toward Fred. “Enjoy. We’ll be there shortly.”
“That means we get to watch Tank make his comeback on the back nine,” Pork Chop said.
“Do you think that he can do something like that again this year?” Fred asked Scottie P.