The One, the Only . . .

The 29^th Tim Fuzzey Memorial MBGO is in the books!

It always starts with a hearty breakfast en route to the venue. (This year, going to Brainerd, we stopped at the Clearwater truck stop – mmm good!) Ostensibly it’s to settle on all the rules and betting games for the tournament. In reality, it’s often the last solid food for three days. 

Current champion lording it over the other players at breakfast. (Not coincidentally, we are always put in a little back room by ourselves away from normal customers and waitresses, like cart girls, pretend to be charmed by our clever banter - thank god we're apparently big tippers!) 

                                

                                                                                                                        

 As an aside, the current champion is also our our current peerless leader whose title is: The One with Total Dictatorial Power or just the "TDP." He is in charge of the whole event and has the power of life and golf death for all participants. (It may not be a fluke that he is a multi time winner.) 

The competition was fierce as always but there can be but one winner. (There is a cash payout through five places but this is America and to paraphrase one D Trump, anyone that doesn’t come in first is a loser. Period.)  So the winner is  . . .

                                                                               

                                                           Giving new meaning the phrase “old friends”-

                                                             Pass the Depends, boys!

(Golf pictures courtesy of Thomas Hansen, Esq. self-described "last honest man in America." A dubious distinction perhaps but worth noting.)

But let’s talk about me first.

Although I didn’t win I did put in my usual feeble effort and ended up about middle of the pack – more or less. Of course, I would have done better if my back wasn’t sore. Also, I wasn’t given enough strokes for my handicap. And geez, was it was windy! It didn’t help that I lost my lucky ball marker. In addition, several times I'm sure I heard guys laughing and talking in my back swing causing some severe mis-swings. (Oh, they apologized but it can’t be an accident if it happens every time, right?) Despite these very difficult circumstances I am able to hold my head up high and as an American say, “I was a victim!”

Helping to take the sting out of my disappointment was the discovery of what really happened to Elvis . . 

Who knew he would be hiding in plain sight at Zorba’s in Brainerd?!

(And we we had to stay up really late to discover him - almost 10:00!)

Golf is a very difficult and intimidating game; it’s expensive, frustrating, time consuming and ultimately, impossible to really like. Why then, you may ask, in the name of all that’s holy would we do this for 29 years? The answer to that is very complex but here goes.

First, because a would be golfer can buy fancy golf clothes, nice clubs, expensive balls and look the part of golfer without exercising or having any actual athletic ability. Then, the secret is to play with people who are much worse than you (and, of course, give them unsolicited and incorrect advice) and/or simply stand around in the club house or near the practice green but never actually play. 

Found in the men's room at the Preserve golf course . . .

To quote good, old King James . "Only stopping for short tymes and wiski, Such are the very odd way of goffers!)

Also, one of the true draws of golf – not unlike that of bowling, horseshoes or curling– is that it is a sport that you can drink while doing. Think about it: good shot or bad you can knock back a beer and even puff on a cigar. I mean, come on, show me some hockey or basketball jock that can get away with that! (Not to mention that all these old farts that try to keep playing those actual sports are simply knee replacements in waiting.) In addition, golf is a sport that you can play until you’re a freaking hundred (if you don’t mind being unable to hit the ball out of your own shadow and running into the woods to pee every 10 min’s.) Unlike bicycling, or jogging or other activities that require . . . actual activity, golf is a gentleman’s game; it’s a social sport where you can leisurely discuss important issues like where to go for dinner, the price of vodka or the goofy, high white socks and cargo shorts on one the other players. (Condescension is one of the true skills sets required in golf.)

The local MENSA club meets at the Bar Harbor every Tues night. (They asked us to leave.)

I should add here, before we salute the new champion, that while we have been plugging along for 29 years, it hasn't always been the same cast of characters. In fact, only three of us have been to all the events. (More stupidity than persistence.) Some have been with us for twenty years, some for ten; our new champion has only been with us for two years. We were once almost exclusively air force buddies but really the only criteria now is that you must play golf, be willing to listen to the same dumb stories every year, have no tolerance for assholes, be kind to grandmothers and dogs and, if possible, drink. Our new champion fits the bill nicely with all but the last - like the Republicans, we truly are the big tent party!

So here you go:

The 2015 champion, Don Asay - nick name “Old Cheater” - presenting the prestigious Fuzzey Cup to the new 2016 champion, Steve Funk  henceforth known as the “New Cheater.”

(Old Cheater may be smiling but he's crying on the inside)

New Cheater squeezing into proud blazer (we actually have two blazers in order to accommodate golfers who, shall we say, have more full figured dimensions.) 

NOTE: A certain member of the group, one Jerry Norton, was so confident that he would win that he was stunned by the outcome and demanded a recount of all scorecards and review of the rules (setting back our lunch and departure.) Sadly, for him, he still came in second. This is in contrast to the fine fellow, Brian Arcari, who came in 3rd, graciously accepted his cash and went home without a peep.

So that's it, golf's Fifth Major is complete for the year. Preparations are already underway for next's years event. We have been assured by the TDP that next year, in honor of the 30th annual MBGO, there will be a number of surprises.

None of which could possibly be greater than if I were to win.

Most importantly, here's to hoping that everyone is both willing and able to make it. I can't stand the thought of losing another friend - we're too young! 

Special shout out to one Richard "Big Stick" Severson and his very tolerant wife, Gayle for putting up a few of the knot heads at their palatial estate on the lake. YTB!

(BTW, sorry about the fire damage, I swear to god we didn't know tequila shooters would explode like that - Denny and Curt will send you a check for the damage. Can we still come back next year?)

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