As the regulars in the traveling senior golf group gathered on the putting green someone asked, “Smitty (who has used the long broom-stick putter for years) what are you going to do in 2016 when the USGA outlaws that long putter?”
Smitty, who has been calling on wine and liquor stores for the past 40 years, is famous for his quick wit and ability to hold the attention of others as he draws out a joke. Friends and fellow golfers delight in throwing some off the wall comment at him to see what clever spontaneous response he will come up with. Without looking up from his very long and fluid putting motion, Smitty replied, “those quacks who run golf are not outlawing the long putter. Players are just not going to be able to anchor their putter to their body.”
When the further question, “How do those USGA country clubber’s define anchoring anyway?” was asked the discussion for the day was put into motion. Every player in this silver haired group had a somewhat different opinion. All had read something, or heard something, or had some inside information that, if you wore a loose fitting shirt that the “golf gestapo” could not tell if the club was anchored or not. Then another player, who also uses the brook-stick motion, poised this question. “What do you thing the USGA police would do if a woman, who has large breasts, places the long putter between those beauties and makes that long smooth stroke? Who is going to check? How are they going to check?”
As with most groups of dirty old men the discussion took several different paths. From: “Women should not be allowed on a golf course anyway.” To: “In my days, when those bra-burning women’s libbers swung free and loose, you could tell by the jiggle.” But it always came back to the same basic question, “How are they going to tell if the putter is anchored?” It was decided among this long-in-the-tooth gang that a well-endowed woman would be able to continue to use the long putter without much trouble from the USGA dictators.
As the mature linksters were making their last few practice strokes and adjusting their grip for the final time before heading to their carts for the shotgun start, Old Sarge, who is always late, came rushing up the practice green dropped three balls and made three quick jerky stokes. Then he looked over at Smitty who was making his final deliciously smooooth stroke and said in a still panting voice. “Hey Smitty, what are you going to do with that long putter when the golf bosses make it illegal?”
All eyes turned to Smitty who replied without an instant of hesitation. “I am going to start taking estrogen tablets tomorrow.”
The response seemed to surprise even Smitty who was grinning from ear to ear as he received high praise from the silver haired testosterone-starved golfers who had just had the laugh of the day! Old Sarge still does not have a clue!
