Starting and Closing by John Smoltz

Author:John Smoltz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

Chapter Eleven

FAIRWAY TALES

I was not only incredibly fortunate to find an outlet that really worked for me and a manager who allowed me to pursue it, but I was also lucky enough to be surrounded by guys who shared the desire to tee it up on their off days. It was really remarkable how this worked out, but almost to a man, everybody who came to Atlanta to pitch during this era either golfed already or was ready and willing to be indoctrinated into our culture. Steve Avery, Pete Smith, Tom Glavine, Greg Maddux, Charlie Leibrandt, Kevin Millwood, Denny Neagle—I could go on and on. We all went out and played golf together, and I’m telling you, we had the time of our lives.

For us, it was always golf served with ample sides of trash talking and practical jokes. When we got out on the golf course, we undoubtedly resembled a bunch of fraternity brothers more than a bunch of pitchers. We always kept score, but we also prided ourselves on inventing new and improved ways to startle, scare, or otherwise mess with each other during a round. We loved to draw a reaction out of somebody. When we weren’t busy thinking up novel ways to screw with each other, Mother Nature certainly did her part, duly delivering some of the most hilarious moments. That reminds me, have I mentioned that Greg Maddux is scared to death of snakes? Words cannot do it justice, but trust me, whenever Greg spotted a snake, a scene of sheer, funky-chicken panic ensued. You’d be laughing for the next day and a half guaranteed.

One of our trademark maneuvers was to mess with someone who was legitimately trying like heck to bury an important putt. If this has never happened to you, take it from me, there’s nothing like standing over your ball, completely focused down to your last exhale, then smoothly drawing back your putter only to have someone sneak up right behind you and whip the flagpole through the air right as you make contact with the ball. The noise that flag can make if you whip it fast enough—I’m telling you, it’s enough to shock you into next week, not to mention make you inadvertently fire your ball eleven feet past the hole. But at least it was standard procedure to take a mulligan in those circumstances. That’s when you know the guys care.

Typically, there was always a subplot underscoring the round and the main story line of who was winning or losing on any given day. The antics revolved around whoever happened to be sharing carts that day. We never stripped down to shirts and skins to differentiate between teams, but it was always understood that it was “every cart for itself.” A cart left unattended and without proper surveillance was an open invitation for mischief. The occupants were liable to return and find the key missing, the scorecard pencil hopelessly lodged between the windshield and the dashboard, or the bag straps loosened to allow for a nice game of fourteen-club pickup the next time they punched it.

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