Freddie & Me by Tripp Bowden

Author:Tripp Bowden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyhorse
Published: 2011-01-24T00:00:00+00:00

32

FIRST STEPS

I wake the next morning before sunrise, beating the alarm clock by half an hour. With unfamiliar hands, I slide on shorts and a golf shirt, slip on my caddy suit, wash the night from my face, and hurry out the door.

Up at sunrise. Check out the new me.

It’s weirdly quiet out—too early for school buses or shift workers or anybody with good sense. I have the morning to myself; it belongs to no one else but me.

When I pull through Augusta’s main gate and take the required caddy right turn, my private morning disappears. The sun is barely above the trees, chewing the last piece of black from the night, yet the parking lot is almost packed.

Caddies are everywhere.

“Hey, hey. It’s Little Doc. Morning to ya.”

“Morning,” I say, getting out of my car. It’s Tip Lite, all bright eyed and bushy tailed.

“Can’t let the sun beat you into work, y’know.” He beats on his chest like Tarzan.

I’m beginning to see why. Beating the sun, not the chest.

“Who you got today?”

“Who have I got?”

“Who you got? Who you caddying for?”

I shake my head. “Nobody.”

“Nobody? Freddie didn’t give you no bag yesterday?”

“No. But he rode me around the golf course for a few hours. Showed me a lot of behind-the-scenes-type stuff, gave me a few tips about the greens. Made me realize I got a lot to learn. I thought I remembered a few things from my college days, but man, was I wrong.”

“Shiiiit. You white boys weren’t doing nothing but smashing grass.” Tip makes horn shapes with his fingers, props them on his head. “Moooooooo. Here come the bulls.”

The truth may not set me free, but it definitely makes me laugh.

“Hey, you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry.”

“Me and you both,” says Tip with a nod like he’s trying to convince himself. He pulls a circle of aluminum foil from his pocket and unwraps it. Inside are four sausage biscuits, looking like brown nickels in his massive hands.

“Made ’em fresh this morning,” says Tip. “I can cook me some sausage, now. Go on.” He pushes his hand to me and I grab one, take a bite. The biscuit is still warm.

He’s right. This is damn good.

Tip reaches down and pops a biscuit into his mouth. Three chews and it disappears. He rolls up the foil. “Save these for later. One for me, one for you.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“Sure,” he says. “Come on—let’s go get us a bag.”

If only it were that simple.

There’s a pecking order in the caddy yard, and even though Freddie is the rooster, he knows not to upset a barnyard that took years to perfect. Doctor’s son or not, I’ve got to wait my turn just like everybody else. I’m the only white boy in the caddy yard, though no one seems to notice this but me, and for the first time in my life I’m a minority. But in Freddie’s world, there is no black or white. The Marines use the terms light green and dark green. Freddie uses an even simpler term.

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