The Wrong Fairway
A dew-soaked municipal golf course in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina at 6:51 AM, where a maintenance crew has accidentally left a sprinkler valve open on the 14th hole and a $25,000 charity tournament tees off in nine minutes.
Double and Bust are caddying for the mayor in a charity scramble that funds the county children's hospital — and Double just realized that the yardage book they've been using all week is from 2019, before the course was redesigned. Every distance is off by 10 to 35 yards. The mayor is currently warming up on the range, striping 7-irons, feeling the best he's felt since his second divorce. They can confess now and scramble for a corrected book that may not exist, or they can adjust every club suggestion on the fly using Double's 'feel' and Bust's frantic mental math.
“I've been eyeballing distances my whole life. My depth perception is basically LIDAR — remember the cornhole tournament?”
“You hit a parked ambulance at the cornhole tournament. And 'adjusting on the fly' means guessing, but with more sweat.”
Double's 'feel' told him the par-3 over water was playing 150 when it was actually 178. The mayor's pitching wedge found the sprinkler pond with a sound like a depth charge, soaking a row of children's hospital donors in folding chairs and sending the mayor's toupee confidence into a tailspin that produced a 14 on the hole.
We handed a sitting mayor a pitching wedge over open water using a yardage book from the Trump administration, and somehow I'm the one who looks stressed.
That ball was tracking perfectly — the wind switched, the pond was closer than 2019, and honestly a 14 builds character.