| General Fiction posted January 5, 2023 | Chapters: |
...32 33 -34- 35... 
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Kenny teaches Abby the golf swing
A chapter in the book Some Call It Luck
Some Call It Luck - Chapter 34
by Jim Wile
| Background A brilliant and beautiful but insecure, nerdy young woman befriends a going nowhere older alcoholic caddie. Together, they bring out the best in each other and collaborate on a startling new invention |
(See the Author Notes for a description of the main characters.)
Recap: Abby has returned to Brentwood CC to work at the snack bar again this summer to earn money for grad school. While at school a few months back, she had met an interesting guy who she never saw again until he walks up to the snack bar with her friend Eddie. Kenny is a member at Brentwood, and after a rocky start, they begin dating. Kenny is finally able to befriend Abby’s stand-offish cat, Lester, who warms to him after Kenny saved him from choking to death.
A continuation of the chapter, Abby St. Claire - Summer, 1987
About a week later on a Friday night, I finished my shift at the snack bar at 5:00 PM. We stayed open an hour later than usual because of an outing that afternoon. Kenny came down to meet me right at closing time. They didn’t need me to wait tables that night, so we had the whole evening to ourselves. We left together in his car and drove to Maudie’s for an early dinner.
At dinner, Kenny just seemed to pick at his food and wasn’t very talkative. In fact, he looked kind of anxious.
“Kenny, what’s eating you?”
“So, you could tell, huh? This afternoon Eddie and I met these two guys who are thinking about becoming members here at Brentwood. They said they wanted to play the course first, and we agreed to play with them tomorrow. The thing is, they suggested a money match. I don’t know; I just have a bad feeling about it. I’m thinking Eddie will want to commit us to some pretty high stakes, and these guys might be trying to hustle us.”
“You don’t have to go along with it if you don’t feel comfortable about it, you know.”
“Easier said than done. You know how persuasive Eddie can be.”
He continued to stew, and while we were finishing up with some ice cream, I had a sudden idea to help get his mind off it. “Kenny, teach me to play golf!”
“What—now?”
“Why not? You got anything better to do?”
“Well, I can think of a few other things we might do together,” he said, twitching his eyebrows up and down a couple of times.
“No, I want you to teach me to play golf. We can just go back to the club.”
“Well, sweetie, what you’re wearing doesn’t quite fit the dress code there on the golf course.”
I had on a pair of short shorts. “Hardly anyone is going to be out on the course at 6:30, and we still have to go back there for my car.”
“Alright then, let’s do it,” he said, and we left Maudie’s and headed to his car. On the way there, I got to thinking about how I had wanted to learn to skate when Fred started showing interest in me back in junior high school. I became good at it, and I loved skating with him. That’s how I felt now; I wanted to share this with Kenny.
We got back to the club and entered the Pro Shop. Tony the caddie master was still there—boy, that guy put in some long hours—and gave us a shag bag of balls and a set of lady’s clubs for me to use.
Kenny grabbed his bag from the bag room, and we headed over to the practice tee. On the way, he asked me if I’d ever swung a golf club before.
“In high school gym class, we did a two-week rotation of golf. That’s the only time.”
“That’s great, then. You won’t have any bad habits to undo.”
“Well, I do bite my nails occasionally.”
“I meant swing habits.”
“I know, I’m just kidding around.”
When we got to the tee, he dumped the balls out of the shag bag, then pulled a 7-iron out of my bag. “Okay, let’s see you address the ball,” he said as he handed me the club.
I grabbed it from him, took a stance, and said, “Hello, ball!”
He cracked up at that. “So, you saw that episode of The Honeymooners huh, when Ralph was teaching Norton to play?”
“Yeah, I saw it. I liked Ralph’s golfing duds, too. He looked something like Eddie.”
“Yeah, that was pretty funny. Alright, let me see your grip.”
I took his hand then and squeezed hard.
“I meant on the club, you clown! Are you going to be serious about this, or what?”
“I’ll be Serious if you’ll be Roebuck.”
“Oh, c’mon, Abby!”
“I’m just trying to lighten your mood a little, Kenny. You seemed pretty preoccupied at the restaurant back there.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re doing a good job of it too, by the way. So, do you really want to learn to play?”
“Yes, I really do. This is how I grip it,” I said as I took the club in my hands.
Kenny studied it for a few seconds. “Well, your grip’s not bad but perhaps a little too strong.” He moved my hands more on the top of the club.
“Alright, let me see a practice swing.”
I settled into my stance, then took the club back quickly, turning my hips and shoulders way around to the right. My left heel came high off the ground. I swung down with a lot of force and followed through. I kind of lost my balance at the end and fell back on my right foot.
“Wow! You’ve got some power, girl. Not too bad, but a little loose overall. Let’s try to tighten things up a bit.”
“Let me try to hit a few balls first.”
“Okay, but don’t be disappointed if they’re not that great,” he warned.
The first one I missed entirely. The next one I barely nicked, and it scooted forward on the ground about five yards. “Alright, never mind. Show me what to do.”
He then launched into a detailed explanation of the posture and stance and takeaway. I frowned. “You know, Kenny. I’m more of a visual learner. Maybe you could just hit a few balls for me, and I’ll try to imitate you.”
“Sure.” He pulled his own 7-iron from his bag, took a couple of practice swings, and then stepped up to a ball. He took the club back slowly only about ¾ of the way back, then with a gentle transfer of weight over to his left side, the club glided down slowly at first and then whooshed through quickly at the bottom. The ball soared into the air and came down softly way down the range.
“Wow! How did you do that? You hardly swung at all at the ball, and it just seemed to rocket away.”
“It’s all in the timing. Okay, try this. We’re just going to get a feel for the rhythm of the swing. Take your club and just swing it back and forth slowly—just little half-swings like this—kind of like a pendulum.”
He demonstrated with a lazy back and forth motion of the club. “Just a slight weight transfer to the back foot on the way back and the forward foot on the way down. Just back-and-forth, back-and-forth. Brush the top of the grass with the club.”
I imitated him and got into the flow of it.
“Alright, now try swinging it back a little further, and make your weight transfer a little more pronounced. Still, just back-and-forth, back-and-forth, nice and easy, back-and-forth.”
“You’re going to hypnotize me,” I said as I continued swinging the club. I had a nice rhythm going now.
“Okay, now keep it going. But this time, on the way down, start with your hips only, and hold your arms and shoulders back a little before starting down with them—like this.”
He demonstrated a slight hip thrust and a little lag in the shoulders.
I continued the back-and-forth motion but with a little lag of my upper body.
“Good, keep it going.” While I continued to swing, he said to me, “Now without stopping or changing anything at all, just hit this ball,” and he pushed a ball over right where my club was contacting the grass. Smack! And the ball soared away into the evening sky.
“Kenny, look at that! I did it!”
“You sure did, babe!”
“I want to do it again.”
“Okay!” We followed the same procedure, and I hit shot after shot into the air with only a few mis-hits.
“Alright, now see if you can do it starting from a standstill,” he said. “Just keep that same rhythm, and don’t force anything.”
I tried it and hit five good ones and only two bad ones.
“That’s terrific, sweetie. You’re a natural.”
“I’ve got a good teacher!”
“Aw, shucks…. Now are you up for a little putting? We’ve got about half an hour before it gets too dark.”
“Yes, Master,” I intoned, sounding like Caine from the TV show Kung Fu.
“Very good, Grasshoppa’.”
(I hate to end the scene here, but it's getting too long. Tomorrow we'll continue with the putting lesson and a surprise ending to the evening.)
Abby St. Claire: Age 20. She has just graduated from Penn State University where she was a math major and has decided to go for a masters degree there next year. She is intelligent and beautiful, yet shy and awkward with most people her age, having been picked on quite a lot while growing up. She works at the snack bar and as a waitress at Brentwood Country Club during the summers. She has just started dating Kenny who she met at the snack bar.
Kenny Payne: Abby met him briefly at a frat party in her senior year and was intrigued by him, then she sees him again when he walks up to the snack bar several months later. Tall, good looking, and an all-around nice guy who is a member at Brentwood.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Kenny Payne: Abby met him briefly at a frat party in her senior year and was intrigued by him, then she sees him again when he walks up to the snack bar several months later. Tall, good looking, and an all-around nice guy who is a member at Brentwood.
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