The whole thing had lasted only eight minutes. Reid looked at Howard and asked, “Do you need some time?” “Me? I’m all right. How about you?” “Actually, I’m kinda charged. Let’s go finish this thing.” When the crowd finally settled down, Howard and Reid teed off, both hitting good shots. Reid’s was long with a small draw. “I don’t believe it,” Buddy said. “He did it again. Give this guy a dose of adrenaline and watch him go.”
Reid laughed and said, “C’mon, let’s go win this tournament.” While he was walking, he asked Joel, “Hey, when you were talking to Jay on your radio, you called yourself TG. What’s that all about?” “Please don’t ask.” “It stands for Top Gun,” Stu said. It’s been his nickname ever since that movie came out. Cute isn’t it.” “Fuck you,” Joel said. “Sensitive are we?” Stu said. Joel turned and quickly threw a jab, stopping only a fraction of an inch from Stu’s jaw. His second punch was caught by Stu’s iron grip, inches from his nose. Then they both smiled and Stu lightly swatted the back of Joel’s head. Watching, Reid was amazed. Joel’s first punch, although playful, would have knocked out most guys if it had connected. Reid had winced just watching. Stu had been as cool as a cucumber, not even flinching. The second punch would easily have broken Stu’s nose if he hadn’t stopped it with his last minute reaction. Reid thought, Holy cow! These guys are like lethal weapons. Stu either has ice in his veins or the ultimate trust in Joel. And Joel had to know Stu was going to catch his second punch or he wouldn’t have thrown it. Not many people could have stopped that punch. What would these guys be like in a real fight? Hope I don’t have to find out, even if they are on my side.
It took a moment to shake off all thoughts of the fiasco and refocus on his next shot. By the time he took his stance, he was mentally prepared. They played out the hole, par, par.
On the ninth hole, as they walked up to the green near the clubhouse, the crowd was enormous and the cheering was out of control. Word of the arrest had obviously made its way around the golf course. Both players were on the green in three. Howard had a 17-foot putt and Reid’s was about 12. The hole was a par five; therefore, they were both putting for birdies. Howard’s putt stopped inches before the hole. He walked up and tapped it in for par. Reid sunk his for birdie and the crowd went wild. They were even after nine.
As they walked toward the clubhouse, Shane, Joan, Hunter and Betsy greeted Reid. They all gave him huge hugs, accompanied by sighs of relief. He returned their hugs and quickly said, “Sorry to rush, but we want to continue.”
Reid and Howard made a quick stop at the bathroom, grabbed some fruit and water from a cooler and went to the 10th tee. They each played the 10th, 11th, 12th and 13th well, both parring each hole. The 14th hole brought trouble for Reid. His tee shot was long, but sailed over the crowd into the heavy rough on the back side of a hill. It took a few minutes to find his ball. It was buried deep in the long grass about 20 yards from the fairway. He was still about 230 yards from the green with trees blocking his shot to the pin. He had no choice but to punch out, playing it safe. He had to hit a 70-yard shot to the far side of the fairway. Anything less and he would have a big tree blocking his next shot. Except for the foot-high heavy grass, no view over the hill and wickedly steep stance, it was an easy shot.
Buddy handed Reid his wedge. He walked to the ball and took some practice swings. It was so steep that when he stood facing the hill, he could touch it without leaning over. The long grass grabbed at his club. If he didn’t follow through, his shot would end up short. Oh what the hell, he thought, I’m over-thinking this. Just do it. He assumed an awkward stance, swung his club and chopped into the hill. The ball flew straight up into the air and fell way short of the fairway, leaving the tree directly between him and the pin. There was a big “Ooohhh!” from the crowd. Reid looked at Buddy, frowned and shook his head in dismay. His ball was short of Howard’s, so it was still his turn. He studied his shot. The tree was huge, completely blocking his line to the green. He was going to have to slice it low and around the tree. Buddy gave him his two-iron, and he took a practice swing. He adjusted his stance so the ball was lined up with his front foot. Swinging hard, he hit the ball; it came around, but not enough, and after a few bounces, rolled into a greenside bunker.
Howard was up; he hit his ball onto the green about 15 feet from the pin.
They walked up to Reid’s ball; it was deep in the trap, about 20 yards away from the green. Using his wedge, his shot came to a stop just inside Howard’s. They both two putted; Howard for par, Reid for double bogey.
Reid’s drive on 15 was exceptional. His second shot, equally as good, put him on the dance floor. He putted in for a birdie. Howard’s par kept him ahead by one shot. They both parred the 16th, making it look easy. Howard ran into trouble on the 17th, the signature hole on the course, a 466-yard par four. His tee shot did not make the necessary turn on the dogleg-right fairway, making his second shot almost impossible. The approach shot had to carry over water to a medium-sized green. As soon as he hit it, he knew it was going for a swim. He bogeyed the hole while Reid shot a clean par. They were tied for the lead once again, with the next player four shots back. It was like a replay of the Master’s.
Howard hit a poor tee shot on the par five, 18th hole. Reid’s drive was very good, but his second shot was a disaster. The ring of guards had tightened around him. Until now, Reid’s emotions were as volatile as a small boat in high seas. The highs of a potential win were countered by the lows of potential death. But since he had come this far, his competitive nature took over and he became more determined than ever.
They were both on the green in four, but Howard’s putt was going to be much easier than Reid’s. As they walked to the green with the crowd applauding, Reid’s heart was pumping strong. His body tingled with the warm rush of blood through his veins. He loved this powerful feeling; it was his ultimate high. It was his body’s typical reaction to an impending win, and he craved the sensation.
The sun had fallen below the treetops. The men tipped their caps as they walked onto the shaded green. From the look of the balls’ positions, a betting man would have been happy if his money was on Howard. Reid had a long putt with a big break in his line. Howard had a five-footer that looked fairly straight. Reid knew he had to sink this putt or chances were that Howard would win. He studied his putt from various angles with Buddy. Crouching down about four yards behind his ball, he evaluated the break in the green. Standing behind him, Buddy leaned over Reid’s shoulder and mumbled, “Gotta hit it about nine inches to the left.” They both stood up and Buddy stepped away as Reid lined up for his putt. He took a few practice swings, looking from the ball to the hole and back. He had nothing but sinking the putt on his mind. At the moment, nothing else in the world existed. His focus was absolute. He was in the zone. He pulled his putter back and hit the ball; he had read it well; the ball broke slightly to the right and curved as it rolled toward the hole. Reid held his breath. From the lack of any sounds, it seemed as if the entire crowd was holding their’s, as well. The ball slowed as it neared the hole. It was the perfect putt…or was it? Stopping at the edge of the cup, it actually looked like it was going to fall in. Reid grimaced and walked slowly toward the hole, hoping the ball would drop by the time he reached it. No such luck. A collective, “Oohh,” came from the gallery. Reid tapped it in for a painful bogey and sighed. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help thinking, Well, at least I’m going to live to see Shane later.