PART ONE – HAPPENSTANCE

PART TWO – COINCIDENCE

Chapter Six

‘Good morning, Alfred. All set?’

‘Yes, sir, Mr. Balls.  Got your club in tiptop shape.  How’s your game these days?’

Alfred had been a long-time loyal servant of the club. He knew all its secrets and divulged none. He had known Balls since he was a young man.

‘Still experiencing the mid-round puke and rally?’

‘I wish I could get out more to practice and get rid of it, but so far no luck.’

‘Remember I always said you could be scratch.  You’ve got the temperament.  Your swing just goes astray sometimes.  Nothing some practice won’t fix.’

Balls was back in England.  Goodell was in London for an annual NFL game featuring a downtrodden side called the Jaguars against some other similarly downtrodden side. Balls wondered who would pay to watch that, but apparently sales were brisk.  10 Downing Street was worried.  A golf outing was arranged for Goodell as a gesture of goodwill at Balls’ home club.  A red Rolls Royce pulled up the driveway.  A portly man got out and opened the door for Goodell.  He attended to the golf bag while Goodell walked into the clubhouse.

‘Anyone here?’

Alfred sprang up. ‘Yes, sir, of course!  I understand you were scheduled to play with the Prime Minister today.  I’m sorry to say that he has been called away on urgent duty.’

‘Is there anyone around?  Seems a waste of a trip to not play.’

‘An old member stopped by to get a club fixed.  Shall I ask him?’

‘Who is it?  What’s his name?’

‘A Mr. Balls, sir.’

Balls smiled grimly.  He pricked his ears.  He wanted to catch every inflection.

There was a pause. ‘Balls?’  The voice had not changed. It was politely interested. ‘Met a fellow named Balls the other day.  Does he know I’m here?’

Alfred had never spoken a lie in his life and wasn’t about to start now. ‘He’s in the workshop, sir.  May have seen your car drive up.’

‘Might be an idea.  What handicap is he?’

‘Used to be quite useful as a boy, sir.  Haven’t seen him play since.’

Balls could feel the man weighing it all up.  He smelled that the bait was going to be taken.  He heard steps and started working on his driver.

‘I think we’ve met before.’  The voice from the doorway was low, neutral.

Balls looked quickly over his shoulder. ‘Why, you made me jump!  Why -‘ recognition dawned over his face – ‘ it’s Goodman, Goodfield, … er – Goodell!’   He hoped he wasn’t overplaying it. ‘What brings you down here?’

‘I was to play with the Prime Minister.  I will play with you instead.’  Goodell was stating a fact.

There was no doubt Goodell was hooked.  Now Balls must play hard to get.

‘Why not some other time?  I was just here to get a club fixed.  I haven’t played in years.’

‘I also haven’t played in a long time’ (Liar, thought Balls). ‘Alfred, have you got a caddie for Mr. Balls?’

‘Yes sir, I believe Hawker is available.’

‘Then it is done.’

Balls thought of a final way to put Goodell off.  ‘I warn you I like playing for money.  I can’t be bothered to knock the ball around just for the fun of it.’

‘That suits me.  I am a nine handicap here. You?’

‘It’s been awhile since I’ve played here, but I’m a nine at Huntercomb.’  Balls was also a nine at his home course, but Huntercomb was an easier course.

‘Remember the amount you took off me in Las Vegas?  I will play you double or nothing for that.’

Balls said indifferently, ‘That’s too much.’ Then, as if he thought better of it, as if he thought he might win, he said – with just the right amount of craft mixed with reluctance – ‘Of course, you can say it was “found money”.  I won’t miss it if it goes. Oh well, all right.  Twenty five thousand it is.’

As Goodell walked out to the dressing room, Alfred spoke quietly to Balls, ‘Sir, just so you know, some of the members think Mr. Goodell is a bit hot.  You know, sir.  Improves his lie and so forth.  He has been here in previous years.  Of course, it’s all rumours, but I thought you should know.’

‘Thank you, Alfred, I appreciate it.  Please get me four Penfold Hearts and put down Hawker’s fee and the club cost on my card.’

Balls looked out the window.  The ugly fat driver of Goodell’s Royce Rolls was setting up the clubs and putting on a caddy sweater.

to be continued…