“Hey, let’s play some golf over at Caye Chapel,” Dick said. “I just got my clubs sent here from the US and I’m ready to try them out.”
“I’m game,” I told him. “My buddy Scott, over in Caye Caulker, likes to play. I’ll give him a call and we’ll pick him up in the water taxi.”
I had a great time playing my first round of golf in over twenty years. Things didn’t go quite as well for Dick. On the 17th hole he said, “Guys, my knee is killing me. You two go ahead and finish out the round and I’ll just watch.”
Going into the 18th hole I was only one stroke behind Scott. I laid my ball up in the middle of the fairway leaving an easy seven iron to the pin. Scott hit a wild screamer, slicing out into the rough near the water’s edge. Of course, I offered to help him find it
After several minutes of unsuccessful search Scott said, “I still have about a minute left of my five minutes allowed for a search. Go ahead and hit your second shot and if I don’t find my ball in time I’ll just concede the match to you.”
I hit my second shot and put the ball on the edge of the green. Ah, just two short putts or one impossibly long putt from a victory.
Just as I got ready to putt I heard, “Hey! I found it.”
There was a click and Scott’s ball flew out of the rough and landed six inches from the cup. He putted out and I took the loss like a man, paying the drink tab at the clubhouse.
On the water taxi going back to San Pedro I told Dick, “That’s the last time I play golf with Scott.”
“Why is that? He seemed like a great guy to me,” Dick said.
“A great guy!? The man is an obvious cheater.”
“What makes you say that?”
“When he was looking for his ball do you really believe he found it? Of course, not. He threw down another ball and played it.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Of course I’m sure. His ball was in my pocket.”
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