Imperial Valley press., 1936-11-20
K:1 lQ;{K8
SPORTS
PARADE
By Henry McLemore

The manufacture OF mouse traps
which have an involved and pa
tented clip that knocks the rascals
dead with one punch, is something
that never has interested me before.
But I'm telling you, and I mean
this from the bottom of my heart,
that if the designer or manufacturer
of such a trap came to Pinehurst
today and started telling me about
his brain child or product I would
be the most attentive audience he
ever had. I would listen for as
long as he wanted to talk. and
when he ran out of ready informa-
ton. would ask leading questions.
The reason for this is not that
I'm any more interested in novel
mouse traps than you, but that I'm
so sick and tired of hearing guys
tell me about their golf shots that
any other subject would be a tre-
mendous relief.
Every adult or woman, sometime
in his or her life, has been pinned
in the corner and forced 10 listen
to a golfer who has just finished
36 holes recall every single shot.
You know the sort of recalling I
mean:
"On the first hole I laid one down
the middle and my second would
have been dead on the green If I
hadn't had lousy luck and got a
crazy kick to the left into the
bunker. Well. I had a dead three
on the short second-you know, the
one with the water carry-but the
green was bumpy and threw me off
line
On the third l hit as sweet a
brassie as you ever saw. but it
caught a rock in front of that trap
you know. that hellish one that
Wanders across in front of the
greenland I took four getting out.
I looked like Hagen on the sixth.
The caddy tried to make me use a
four iron. but I said don't be silly,
give me that six, I can bust 'em a
mile with it, and I dropped it
square on the green for as pretty
three as you ever saw
And so on and SO on and so on
until the entire round is covered
Such a business is bad enough
when you have one or two people
telling you of their adventures
through the woods. But when
you've got hundred-well, sanity
threatens to drift through the tram
som and out into the outer world.
Down here at the P.G.A. tourna-
ment there's no way to escape golf
ing raconteurs. They're everywhere.
Try to hide in the woods and be
damned if the squirrels don't talk
the game. telling one another how
many balls they found in the rough
during the day.
The professional players in the
tournament are the worst offenders.
Soon as they finish match they
run to the locker room and the
18th hole and the dining room and
start spilling the stories of their
rounds. And what is worse you
get two versions of every round
one from the winner and one from
the loser.
Those who have no fresh rounds
to recount. let their minds % wan
der backward and start telling you
about a shot they made in Houston
ten years ago or putt they sank
| Cor missed in the Trans Oklahoma
tournament in 1923. To hear them
talk Of these ancient shots you'd
swear they were made thirty min
utes before
don't want this column tc
sound 100 bitter. I haven't any OBJ
lection to a man telling of a gooc
Shot or bad bit of luck. Now yoU
take that shot I made on the coun-
try club course at Lincoln, Neb.
raska, week ago. Half buried ir
the sand. and fifty yards from the
pin. I hauled off with my niblicl
and durn near holed out Il woule
nave dropped in the cup if San
Waugh hadn't kicked it with hi
foot. And there was the nintf
hole on the number three coursi
here yesterday. I needed a fou
to break hundred and what dt
] do but putt three-and all be
cause the caddy had given me thl
wrong line.
Maybe I'd better stop before
really get wound up and start tell
ing you all the tough luck I've hat
on the golf course. Why