From: jimv@dadd.ti.com (Jim Vahsen,VAHZ,)
Subject: Short story
Reply-To: jimv@dadd.ti.com
Organization: Texas Instruments, Inc.
Date: Fri, 21 Aug 1992 20:12:39 GMT

Greetings.  Just thought I'd share an experience that happened to me this
week.  I was in a 4-some with friends.  We were on a long par 5, and we
had all hit our drives.  90-degree rule, so we drove over to the left rough
where 2 drives were hit.  I, of course  8)  , was in the fairway, another
70 yds closer to the hole...  I love par 5's.  Anyway, the guy driving our
cart put us up near a fence (OB) behind his ball, but about 30 yds ahead
of the other drive.  As the "proper" shot would have been back to the 
fairway, we were in a "safe" spot.  So the guy in the other cart goes to
hit his 2nd shot, with a 3-wood.  Jokingly, we start jousting about the
distinct possibility of getting hit by the ball.  These jokes trigger a
survival instinct in my brain, I stop laughing quite as loud, and seek 
shelter behind our cart.  My partner sees my defensive strategy, and assumes
his stance next to the OB fence.  Now time seems to be moving in slowmotion
as the guy gets ready to hit.  I joke "I bet he hits it under the cart and
hits my foot"  ha ha ha.  Partner replies, ya know, every time he does hit 
that damn (sorry) club well, he generally pulls it left, about where you are 
now...  ha ha ha.  Time slows down further, I look between the 2 bags on the
back of the cart behind which I am "well" protected.  Backswing...  Crack...
I notice a small white orb getting exponentially larger as it approaches my 
head.  The thought of getting brained simulaneously prompts me to turn and
duck.  Too late.  Thwack.  Dead center of my back.  Pain, agony.  Suddenly
my face contacts the ground.  Ouch.  I can't breath.  Why am I laughing
hysterically?  I feel like I've been shot by a canon.  I can't get up.

Anyway, I got my Top-Flite tatoo pretty good.  How the ball weaved it's way 
through the cart and between the bags and hit me _square_ on, I still do not
know.  It actually knocked the wind out of me from behind.  Incredible.

My only revenge was that the ball bounced off of my back, and over the fence.
The son-of-bitch (sorry) had to take a 2-stroke penalty.  

We laughed it off for the rest of the round...  I will never put myself in 
this position again.  Stay behind the hitter, or you may become the hittee...


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