, you know, and down there in the winter. And
Sunday afternoons he always played an exhibition match with visiting
pro's, or some of the crack amateurs. I never missed joining the gallery
for those matches. I was following the day he broke the course record
with a 69. Just one perfect shot after another. It was an inspiration.
Always was to watch Sandy the Great play. Such a genial, democratic
fellow, too. Why, he has actually talked to me on the tee just before
taking his stand for one of those 275-yard drives of his. 'Watch this
one, me laddie buck,' he'd say, or 'Weel, mon, stand a bit back while I
gie th' gutty a fair cr-r-rack.' He was always like that with me. Do you
wonder that I bought all my clubs of him, had a collection of his best
scores, and kept a large 'photo of him in my room? I've never been much
of a hero worshiper, but when it came to Sandy the Great--well, that
was different. You've heard of him, of course?"

"I expect I have," says I, "but just how does he fit into this--"

"I am coming to that," says Dowd. "It was a remarkable experience.
Weird, you might say. You see, it was the last day of our stay in
Florida; our last foursome of the season. We had been losing steadily
for several days, Ellins and I. Not that the stakes were high. Trivial.
Dollar Nassau, with side bets. I'd been off my drive again and Ellins
had been putting atrociously. Anyway, we had settled regularly.

"And Rutter had been particularly obnoxious in his manner. Offered to
increase my handicap to five bisque, advised me to get my wrists into
the stroke and keep my body out. That sort of thing. And from a man who
lunges at every shot and makes a 75-yard approach with a brassie--Well,
it was nothing short of maddening. I kept my temper, though. Can't say
that my friend Ellins did. He had sliced into a trap on his drive, while
I had topped mine short. We started the first hole with our heads down.
Rutter and Staples were a trifle ostentatious with their cheerfulness.

"I will admit that I played the first four holes very badly. A ten on
the long third. Wretched golf, even for a duffer. Ellins managed to hold
low ball on the short fourth, but we were seven points down. I could
have bitten a piece out of my niblick. Perhaps you don't know, young
man, but there is no deeper humiliation than that which comes to a dub
golfer who is playing his worst. I was in the depths.

"At the fifth tee I was last up. I'd begun waggling as usual,