DallasKeen's "hit two guys with one shot" story made me decide to open a thread about some of the best golf stories.
Here are three of mine.
1) There's an exclusive country club in Tuscaloosa called North River Yacht Club. Had a friend in high school whose dad was a member and went a few times as their guest. Realized that the guard was used to seeing my car and started going up there on my own. Had a pull cart and would hang around the first tee looking for a two or three group to join. Never paid. Did this for months and months. Ate at the clubhouse. Swam in the pool. And played golf. One day I was with a group of three older men. Having a great time. But these asshole 30ish group was rushing us. Continually hitting into us and standing there glaring. After the third time of it I turned around with a three wood and launched it back at them. Scattered the bastards. And then it started. Wanted my member number. BR-549 amused no one. Not even the old guys I was trying to defend. Tried to run. Didn't work. Biff Spickley threatened to call the cops and charge me with trespassing. They eventually settled on kicking me off the course and banning me from playing there as a guest or requesting membership for five years.
2) Playing Mimosa Course in Tuscaloosa. Worst course ever. Pasture golf. I apparently parked my cart in a sandtrap on #9. Had no idea. Couldn't differentiate between fairway and sand. Old guy runs out of the trailer clubhouse screaming at me. I was sort of drunk. We had words. I ran the cart through the gate of a horse stall and mired it in the shit. Banned from there for a year.
3) Playing Lake Forest down here. Having a shit day as were my playing partners. I was off to the right among some trees. One of the guys was to the left near the houses. His second shot hit an old lady's back porch and ricocheted a dozen times. Rang the BBQ, set off the windchimes, shook the screen door. Sounded like artillery. She was sitting on the porch at the time. Jumps up and screams for hubby who comes out and consoles her. Meanwhile I'm on the other side. I hit the same tree with three consecutive shots. Each one sailing over houses and into the street. Sounds like a rifle going off I'm hitting this big ass tree so hard. Husband and wife are huddled together staring at me. So my playing partner correctly decides he must drop and try again. His second attempt also screams toward the porch and hammers around the old couple who hit the deck. When the horrific sounds of pottery being blasted by a golf ball subside, she rises up and points a pony finger in our direction. In a shaking voice that's half wail and half shout she groans "Get aaawwwwwwwfffff the caaaawwwwwwwrrrrrrrse!!! Get aaaaawwwwwwwfffffff the caaaaaaawwwwrrrrrssss!" We ran for the carts and headed to the next hole. Wrote down a par because it was traumatic and we'd been punished enough. I hit one of the best shots of my life on the next tee, a par three. Six inches from a hole in one.
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