When a Deal Seems too Good to be True - Golf on a Budget

My parents are avid, talented golfers who always try to include us. We do join them, but only if they find an inexpensive executive course, so we aren’t breaking the bank and we are not out there for eternity. The other day they found a municipal executive course that cost seven bucks each. Now that was a deal!

The first hole went as expected. Both parents made par. John’s tee shot landed on the green two feet from the flag, and mine was a “worm killer.”

However, on the second hole, John’s ball hooked left over a fence and "pinged" off the roof of a shed. When this happens it's not usually too big of a deal. Everyone gives you a hard time and you play on. That day was no exception until we looked where the ball landed. 


Really looked. 


This backyard (in fact all of the backyards) was separated from the course by a 20 foot high chain link fence. Assorted broken toys, bikes, cast off lawn furniture, car parts, whole cars, and exercise equipment (like the kind you see in prison movies) littered the space. Did I mention the pit bulls?

This particular yard had two. 

TWO!!!


We froze in horror as a heavily tattooed man came out of his house. He stood at the chain linked fence, flexed his muscles and stared. At us. He didn't speak. He didn’t have to. 

Before I go any further, I want to point out that I did not take any pictures. I didn't even think of it. But I have uploaded reasonable facsimiles to give everyone an idea of the setting.

Here is a picture of a scary LA house.

And, here is a picture of a scary killer pit bull.

And, here is a picture of a scary gang member from East LA.

Anyway, John whispered to me,”Do you think I hit "his" shed?”

I answered, “No. Don’t be silly. You hit the ball way way past his yard. He’s just going outside for a workout or to play with his dogs. Just the same, why don't you take a mulligan from here? (Free hit)"

Here is what I honestly thought, “Holy Mother of God. That ball did land on his shed. That guy looks mean, gang member mean. And mad. What if this is the hundredth time today that a ball has landed on his shed and he is fed up? What if he sicks those junkyard killer dogs on us? What if he is a gang member and he shoots us? AND WHY ARE WE GOLFING IN EAST LA ANYWAY????”

But sometimes when you are on a fixed budget, you have to suck it up. The man continued to stand at the chain linked fence, flexing his muscles and staring. So, John hit another ball and we played through. Quickly. (That means using PGA rules, not Smith rules.) We were back in the car long before the sun went down!

Shelley and John