America’s greatest golf writer cracks wise in this humorous peek inside the life and mind of an up-and-coming young pro
If Hogan had to wait 15 years before winning the Open I guess even a natural athalete like me has to wait a couple of years huh?
Harry Sprague may not be the most eloquent golfer on the winter circuit, but spelling and grammar are the least of his concerns. First, he has to work on his putting, which, due to the aradic nature of the greens at Pebble Beach, Cypress Point, the Arizona Country Club, and other Sun Belt courses, is keeping him out of the money.
And speaking of money, Harry suspects that his current sponsorship deal—he runs a driving range from April to November for no salary in exchange for the cash to go on tour—might not be the fairest of deals.
Finally, there are the fans. In California, Arizona, Texas, Louisiana, Georgia, and Florida, beautiful women line the fairways hoping for a date with their favorite pro. But as Harry soon learns, if wedding bells don’t ring the following winter, he’ll have hell to pay.
First published in Sports Illustrated, these humorous missives from the bottom rungs of the leader board will delight duffers and low handicappers alike.
