The Cheater

I am going in a different direction with this post, it's fiction.  While I have been involved in similar situations, nothing in the story is true. I have seen cheating similar to the story, however, the events and names were all created in my mind. Cal

It started as just another summer Saturday as Jimmy Hudson, aka “Auto” walked into the well worn caddie shack at the Rivers Bend Country Club.  Caddie master Bill Feser was in his cage at the back end of the 500 square foot, rectangular, wood building.  A dozen boys sat on benches that stretched from front to back on either side, showing years of initials carved in them.  A drop of paint had never been spread in this caddie shack, as graffiti covered the walls. “George wants to talk to you, Auto.  Hustle up and see him in the shop,”  said Jim.

Auto, 16, was not a big kid at 5’ 10", but “strong as a bull” at 185 lbs, as his buddies described him. Brown hair fell down over his forehead, much like Ringo Starr, his favorite Beatle. He kept it tucked under the 1965 Minnesota Twins World Series baseball cap, purchased the previous fall at game three. Thus there was no criticism from any of the club members, who espoused the “butch” haircut for young people. His square jaw and high cheek bones gave him a movie star look, making him the darling of many member wives. 

Auto was unaware many of the ladies of the club twittered about “cute” Auto.  “You need to have your daughter call Auto,” said Ginny Anderson to Mary Dee, as they walked to the locker room following a round with Auto as their caddie.  “They would make a cute couple!”

Auto ran up the path, around the grass collection area on the back side of the ninth green, toward the deep faced bunker, past the crowded practice tee, and to the pro shop. Above the door hung a faded brown, wooden sign with “George Craft, Golf Professional” carved in it. Auto entered to find George behind the counter folding a shirt recently returned. 

George was a comical figure, nearly as wide as he was tall.  At no more than 5’5”, he had a nervous habit of rubbing his nose, triggered by the bushy mustache frequently carrying bits of his past meal or snack.  No clothing label would want him to be sporting their wares, as his shirt was always too tight and pants, while fitting when purchased, would slip down causing the cuffs to drag on the ground.  

George took a liking to Auto the first year he caddied, as he volunteered to caddie late one day for the most difficult member at the club, Jules Preston.  George always remembered Auto’s name, occasionally allowing him to play late on Saturdays, a real bonus.

“Hi, Auto,” George said in his high pitched, chirping voice.  “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Sure, what can I do?“

“Well, there’s a golf outing on Monday and someone at the company would like you to caddie for one of the players.  Now, before you commit there are some details you need to know. The guy is rumored to cheat.  There is no hard evidence, but rumor has it.  He has been going around the office making bets with employees who don’t play much golf. All that and he is an officer of the company.

They would like you to caddie for him and just keep an eye on play.  I don’t want you to say anything, just pay attention. Don't confront him in any way.  You’ll be paid well if you chose to take the job.”

“So really, all you want me to do is be a caddie, not be a cop?”

“Right,” said George.

“And oh, I realize you will be giving up your caddie day to play golf.  I’ll make it up to you on a couple of quiet Saturday afternoons,” added George.

Honored to be brought in on a secret club operation, Auto agreed.  

“Ok, and again I don't want you doing anything other than what you normally do when you're out, just pay attention. It’s a 1:00 shotgun start, Monday.  Get here about noon and we will get you set up with his bag.  You'll carry double, with the other two players in a cart.  Now head on down to the first tee,  Mr. Adams and Mr. Sveegen are next up, you have their bags today.”

Wow, Adams and Sveegen, my two favorite guys at the club.  This must really be a big favor, thought Auto.

It was a sunny day, with a temp nearing 75 and the slightest of breeze from the southwest, as the group walked off the first tee, Mike Adams having hit a perfect drive. 

River Bend was a classic old course.  Stately old elms lined fairways leading to small, elevated greens, frequently with sand bunkers surrounding. On Saturday morning, the busiest morning of the week, the superintendent aimed to have the course in peak condition.  Fairways cut late Friday, greens double cut, fresh hole locations, rough grass taking on a dark green color, cut throughout.  

Milwaukee Milorganite fertilizer had been spread the day before adding a sweet smell to the morning.  It was the smell reminding Auto of golf.

He was carrying the bags for fine gentlemen on a beautiful morning, greens running true and quick.  It was a day with the only sound being a cardinal singing, looking for a mate.  Quiet, peaceful. A high, deep blue, cloudless sky. There are few perfect days in the summer, but this was one. It’s fun for everyone.

“We have a company outing here on Monday,” Mike Adams commented to Jerry Sveegen.  “Hope the weather is like it is today.”

“I know we requested a few caddies, are you going to work on Monday, Auto?” 

“I am.”

Mr. Adams knew, Auto thought.  He was in on the scheme.  Remembering further,  Adams did not own the company, but was a senior officer.  Adams was probably the guy setting up the whole deal.  

Wisely, Auto said nothing more.  

They finished the round promptly in 3:45 and said their good byes.  “I look forward to seeing you Monday, Auto,” said Adams, with a wry smile.

Back at the caddie shack, Auto turned in his caddie chit, receiving $6.00 in return for his 18 holes carrying two bags.  Not bad for a 16 year old, which plus the $1 tip each player gave him, added to a nice $8 for the morning’s work.

“I have you on the list to caddie on Monday, is that right,” inquired Bill, the caddy master. 

“Yes, I'll be here.”  

“Ok, be here about noon. For some reason they have already assigned you to Jake Meyer.  You start from the first tee.”

“Sounds good.”  It appeared Bill did not know what was going on, Auto thought.  Best to have a small circle “in the know.”

Sunday was a complete rainout, but Monday opened with clear blue skies, promising a beautiful day.  

Auto pulled into the parking lot in his badly faded, pea green 53 Plymouth Belvedere at 11:30.  The front doors not operating properly, requiring him to climb into the backseat in order to exit the vehicle. Once accomplished, Auto made his way up the seemingly endless red brick steps, badly damaged from too many winters. He passed the two story clapboard sided clubhouse, converted from the original farmhouse when the course was built, and hustled up the tarmac path to the pro shop some 50 yards away.

George was inside making final arrangements for the event.  He stood behind the counter, showing evidence of its 30 years serving the club.  The walls of the shop were walnut colored, four by eight sheets of faux oak paneling, several with waves in them, screaming for attention. The threadbare carpet, damaged by steel golf spikes, had been replaced several years earlier, but again in need of replacement.  

George was not known for his retailing prowess, but did offer the members a reasonable selection of Munsingwear golf shirts, Lacoste sweaters, and FootJoy golf shoes.

It would be a good payday for George, as all of the prizes for the corporate outing were gift certificates in the pro shop.  He would be able to move a few of the white elephants, purchased from grateful reps.

“Hey, good to see you Auto.  Just give me a minute and I will get you set up," George chirped.

“No problem.”

As promised, George was shortly leading Auto out the door and over to the bag rack. “You have Mr. Jake Meyer.  He’s the guy you need to watch.  You will also have this bag right here, Tom Swenson. No one in the group knows you have been put in the group.  Again, just do your job, but pay attention, as the others in the group are infrequent players. There may never be a question or a problem.  In fact, everybody hopes that’s the case. The event is low net.  It means the winner is determined by taking the gross score and subtracting the handicap.  However, the highest score any player can make is a triple bogey.

I am told Meyer is a pretty good player, a single digit handicap.  Now go down to the caddie shack and get some lunch, be back up here at 12:45.”

“I got it,” said Auto.

Promptly at 12:45 Auto was on the first tee.  Jake Meyer and Tom Swenson introduced themselves, grabbed a couple of clubs and went to the adjacent practice tee to warm up.

“I get you on my side if we get in a wrestling match,” Meyer said to Auto jokingly, upon his arrival back. “You look like you could play middle linebacker!”.  

Jake Meyer was about 45 years old, with thinning salt and pepper hair.  He wore a new Munsingwear baby blue golf shirt, a logo Penguin on the pocket, matching Bermuda shorts, white socks and black Foot Joy shoes with kilty flaps over the laces.  He had purchased a white new cap from the shop, with the logo of the River Bend CC on the front.  The glove on his left hand was also baby blue.  

While all the baby blue was over the top, he did look like a golfer, thought Auto.

Promptly at 1:00 the shotgun went off and 72 players in 18, four person groups, marched.

“Your course is in great shape,” said Meyer on the 4th tee. “The greens are the best I have seen all summer.”  

Playing well, at one over par for the first five holes, with his seven handicap, he continued the friendly conversation.  The balance of the group, including Mr. Swenson, not being nearly as skilled, struggled.  

At the 6th, a dogleg left par five, Meyer’s game came off the tracks.  A creek outlined the inside of the hole from tee to green, feeding into and out of a pond at the corner as the hole turned.  

After hitting his drive in the water, Meyer hit a poor shot, pull hooking into the water again.  He dropped another ball, hit it on the green and unfortunately three putted for an eight.

“I made a mess of that one, didn’t I, Auto,” Meyer said, trying to mask his anger as they left the sixth green.

The group moved to the tough, down hill, par four, 7th.  Meyer missed the green with his second shot, chipped up and two putted for bogey.  At the difficult dogleg right par four, 9th, Meyer again missed the green, chipped poorly to the two level green, causing another three putt.  

“Ok, here is what I have for scores,” said Meyer.  “I had 43, Tom, I have you for 49, Jim, 50,and Peter, 49.  Let’s do better on the back nine.”

Things moved smoothly around the back nine with Meyer making harmless bogies at holes 10 and 13.  Then at the 14th, a shortish dogleg right with tall elm and maple trees left and right, he hit a wild shot into the left trees.  

After a lengthy search, the ball was found in a position where it appeared it to be unplayable.  Auto spotted It in a brushy area with gnarly weeds in the undergrowth.  A drop under penalty of one shot and a play out to the fairway was his best option, thought Auto.

“Ok, I’m good, Auto.  Go help Mr. Swenson and we will try to get back on track here,” said Meyer.

The rest of the group scurried to keep play moving, with Auto hustling over to Swenson's ball.  Everybody hit and the group all made their way to the green.

“I’m sorry, I did not see your shot, Mr. Meyer.”

“Wow, I made a miracle.  I’m on only about ten feet away,” he said.

Auto was shell shocked.  There was no way he could have hit the ball on the green!  The one time Auto let him out of his sight, he cheated.

Remembering George’s instructions, Auto looked at Meyer, looked at the green and said, “nice shot.”  

Since Auto found the ball the rest of the players had not seen the lie and could only echo Auto’s comment.  However, there was no question, Meyer had moved the ball.

Sometimes the golf gods bring justice to the game.  At the difficult, long, par five, 15th, disaster struck again.  With water running down the right side from tee to green, Meyer again found the water twice.  In general, played the hole poorly hole, leaving the 15th green with an eight. 

“I just can’t get away from one bad hole each nine,”  an irritated Meyer said to Auto as they approached the 16th tee. 

As frequently happens, a distressing hole will lead to another problem, and the 16th found Meyer making a bogey, followed by another at the long uphill par four, 18th.  

“Here is what I have for everybody,” said Meyer following the customary pleasantries, while leaving the green. Tom, I have you for 98, net 78, Peter, 101, net 77; Jim 98, net 79.  I’ll turn the card in.”  

Auto ran the numbers in his head. 43 on the front, bogies at 10, 13, 16, 18, and a triple at number 15; another 43 for a total of 86 and a net of 79.  He was clearly the best player in a group of infrequent players, but had not had a good round. Even though he cheated he was not going to win any prizes with a net 79.

An hour later George tracked down Auto.  “How’d it go out there? He must have played pretty well, he shot a net 73 and won second place.”  

“What? No way! He shot 86 and had a net 79. Plus he cheated by moving his ball from an unplayable lie to do that! How could that be?"

The two looked at each other, with Auto finally saying, "He must have altered the scorecard before turning it in, counting on his unsuspecting partners not to notice. And it worked. The guys he was paired with had no clue about his game.  They had trouble keeping their own score to say nothing about someone else in the group!”

“Unbelievable. Are you certain you are correct?  I am sorry to hear it,” said George. 

“I can go through every shot if you would like."

“Let me find the scorecard,” said George.

Fifteen minutes later he was back, card in hand.  

Auto took the card and studied it. “Look at this. The 6th hole shows he made a six.  He actually made an eight.  He announced he shot 43 on the front nine.  The card says 41.”

Auto moved to examine the scores on the back nine.  “On the par three 13th, he hit a shot out to the right, chipped poorly and was lucky to make a bogey.  The card now shows a par three,” said Auto.

Auto studied the card further. “How about this. He did the same thing at 15, he did at the 6th.  He made an eight, hitting in the water twice. The card shows a six. And that says nothing about the shot he hit out of the woods at 14.  There was no way anybody could get the ball from where it was to where it ended.”

“I’ll take it from here. Keep this under your hat and thanks for looping today," said George as he handed Auto $30.  And he turned and walked away.

It was a big payday.  

George never said another word about the incident. However, three weeks later, Auto was again on the bags of Mike Adams and Jerry Sveegen.  “We made a change at CFO this week,” Mike said to Jerry.  “The culture wasn’t a good fit for Jake Meyer.”