The Money-Whipped Steer-Job Three-Jack Give-Up Artist: A Novel by Dan Jenkins

Author:Dan Jenkins [Jenkins, Dan]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Anchor
Published: 2002-06-03T16:00:00+00:00

I didn’t read the rest, and it was a good thing Irv left town that night because after I read that embarrassing shit I would have tracked him down and put an overlapping grip on his throat.

His uninvited book effort upset me so much, I couldn’t sleep good the whole week of the Masters. There’s no question that what he wrote was the main reason I didn’t score better.

True enough, I tied for eleventh place, but I never broke 70 in any round, I never came close to climbing on the leaderboard, what we call the high rent district, and I came away with no Ryder Cup points. Xerox.

Sure, I’m happy with the $125,000 I swooped, and there was no telling how much the amount might have made my ex-wives whoop.

But all I did in Augusta was moan and stew and fret. I showed Irv’s first page to Buddy Stark in the locker room one day, and after trying fight off a grin the only thing he said was:

“Utensils?”

I showed the first page to Mitch on the practice range after I’d struggled to my first-round 74.

“What lake you shit in?” he said. “I know you shit on Amen Corner today.”

I did butcher the twelveth and thirteenth The wind held up my seven-iron to the twelveth and it landed in Rae’s Creek. El Splasho.

I went to the drop area and just as fast as I could I chunked the sand wedge into the front bunker. I was lucky to get away with a double. And I followed up that comedy act with a three-jack at the thirteenth after I reached the green in two. Perfect.

I chunked four wedge shots the first three rounds. Mitch finally figured out what I was doing. You have to make solid contact with the ball on your pitch shots, which I’d more or less forgotten.

I wasn’t letting my wrists cock on the takeaway. What you want to do on your pitches is play the ball in the middle of your stance and put your weight a little forward and keep your hands slightly ahead of the ball, which prevents any urge you may have to scoop it.

You want to hit the ball, then the turf, and let the loft of the club get you up in the air. No big thing to do—unless you’ve got Tees and Sympathy on your mind.

While I was scraping it around eight shots out of first and three shots out of Ryder Cup points, Ernie Els caught a hot putter and let it drag him to that two-stroke win over Tiger. Tiger accepted the loss graciously. Broad smile and pat on the back for Ernie.

It’s easier to be a gracious loser when you’re Tiger Woods. Man walking around with a six-pack of majors in each hand.

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