Everyone has a story about something that isn’t meant to be. For me, there are two. One is the hole in one. I expect to be a member of Deuce or Die for the remainder of my days. Hogan had one ace, and I’m no Ben Hogan. The other story is a visit to the Augusta National and the Masters. I’ve had two access points, and both have been agonizingly denied.
For over twenty-five years, one of my college buddies worked for a company that hosted folks each April in Augusta. For the longest time, I would hear whispers about how U (his initial) would go to Augusta each year, wine and dine clients, and watch the tournament’s practice and competition rounds. For him (and them) it was a social and business opportunity. For those of us that genuflect at the grail, a visit to the National is neither of those things.
Karma is a funny thing. Before he left that firm, I had a chance encounter with the CEO, and I mentioned U to him. The CEO did indeed know U, and thought the word of him. I mentioned to U in a text message (by this point, we had smart phones) that said CEO sent his best regards. Well, the phone wasn’t cold for more than a minute, before it rang. U wanted to know how I had met CEO, and since then, we’ve been the college buds we had been for four years. U apologized for being U. I held no grudge, and I love to hear stories to this day, about his time at the Masters.
The second daliance involves the actual winning of practice round tickets in the lottery. About eleven years back, I won four tickets for Tuesday’s practice round. I began to formulate plans with three compatriots: leave Thursday, play golf Friday through Monday, watch practice round Tuesday, red-eye back to Buffalo on Tuesday to be in classroom on Wednesday.
Yup, I’m a teacher by day. Only had to convince my boss that I should go. No problem. Boss played sport in college. Loved sports still. I would pay for my sub on Monday and Tuesday, out of my own pocket.
Boss said No. Twice.
Why didn’t you just call in sick? Boss lready knew. People would talk. Story would never stay quiet.
Friends had to take another guy along, who ended up ruining the majority of the trip. You can’t rujin Augusta, and by that point, they hoped that he would get arrested during the practice round. They will always have Augusta, though, even the dirtbag.
That’s my story on the Masters, the ANGS, aces, and why I’m the luckiest guy on the planet. Two repels do not a life make.
