Runnels: Miller open

Yep, that’s it! Now, I’ve done it all! Can you believe this — I picked up a golf club! Never thought I’d see the day.

Oh, I’ve got lots of friends that follow that little white ball over acres of good grass land, but I never dreamed I’d ever do it myself.

You see, I got this invite to the MILLER OPEN. Now, when I hear “open”, I automatically think of “Jacks or better”. Cow pasture pool never enters my mind.

Anyhow, I follows the hand-drawn maps to this fine country estate, where this open is supposed to open. When I gets there I could tell, I was dealin’ with Christians, ‘cause they was already takin’ Communion.

The Horse Show pitchin was just comin’ to a close, and when I gets there they starts passin’ out these golf sticks to the folks like me who don’t own one.

Now these folks cut my earmarks right away and could tell I didn’t know nothin’ about the game. I ain’t no dummy, so I tells them, I’ll just watch, then do. You know, monkey see, monkey do.

I ain’t long figurin’ it all out. First you stick this little pink colored peg in the ground and sets the little white ball on the top of it. That ain’t hard to do unless you’ve been takin’ Communion too long.

Then you grab this funny little steel pole with a lump on the end, and hold ‘er in both hands. Then swing it just as hard as you can about three or four times.

I think that’s to clean out enough grass and dirt that’s in the front of the ball, so next time, you can reset the ball on the peg, and get a real swing at things.

Then you haul off and really swat that ball. I notice sometimes that the little ball goes down that strip that’s just been brushhogged out, but most of the time it don’t.

Anyhow, after the ball goes bouncin’ off in any direction it chooses you throw the golf club after it. I think that’s to see if you can throw the club farther than you can hit the little ball. It’s a little like quail huntin’!

You watch to see where the little ball falls, then you go huntin’ for it. This one couple went huntin’ out there in the bushes, and hunted for over an hour, and never did come up with that ball.

Anyhow after you find your ball, you’re supposed to swat it again with that club, until you get all the way up that next hill.

Up there, there sits a pole in a five gallon bucket. The pole has a bag on it so you can see it from the bottom of the hill.

Now, I notice if the ball don’t fall where you want it, you take the end of that little stick and rake out a clearin’, and set the ball in it, so you can get a better swing.

We finally gets to this pretty good fish pond. I had a hard time keepin’ my mind on that little ball, what with all them big bass feedin’.

Now when you get to the water, if you think you’ll have a hard time hittin’ that ball all the way across, you just trade that little white ball for a tennis ball.

That way if you can’t make it across, you just wade out there and swing at it again. Tennis balls float!

It must be a game that’s hard on your religion, ‘cause they have this truck that follows you around so you can take Communion anytime you backslide.

Boy! That golf game is somethin’ — that is, if you don’t backslide too much.

I may not have done much good with the golf game at the MILLER OPEN, but I sure did impress a ton of ticks and chiggers!

Courtesy of Tom Runnels Publications. Copyrighted and Registered by Tom Runnels and Saundra Runnels Revocable Trust. Printed in The Banner Press: August 25, 1988.