Jim, Bill, Greg and I were in this agonized state when, after 5 hours, we were only on the 15th hole. The slow foursome was two groups in front of us. Jim had already yelled out at them on the 10th hole to play faster, but they had ignored him.
Let me make sure I’m setting up this war story clearly: They’re the bad guys, we’re the good guys.
The 15th hole goes due north. The 16th hole comes back due south right alongside the 15th. Because this group was so slow, we were passing them where the two holes come very close together.
Jim yelled out again, “You guys are holding up the whole course, pick up the pace!” One of them yelled back, “F*&^ you!” That was all it took. With fifteen holes of frustration boiling over in him, Jim grabbed a club out of his bag and started running toward them. Then Bill and Greg grabbed clubs and starting running with him. Then the bad guys did the same thing! There they were – 7 men with golf clubs in hand running toward each other – Golfing Gladiators!
Where was I? FROZEN. I literally just stood near my bag with my mouth open. Never in my life have I felt so demure. Fight? I’ve been known to have an attitude, but fight? Although I must have had some sort of primal fight or flight instinct, because I grabbed my 7-iron out of my bag. But my feet never moved.
And then… nothing happened. The seven of them got to within 30 yards of each other, screaming their heads off, with clubs in hand, but in the end no one was crazy enough to take the first swing. Thank goodness.
At a much later time I was able to close my mouth, walk, then finally, unclench my 7-iron.
Private course members, see what you’re missing!