I like stories.”
“When I was sixteen years old, I was the best amateur golfer in the entire state of Michigan. I had scouts watching my every swing and the scholarships were starting to pour in. I was a sure bet to win the Michigan Amateur Tournament, which would have sealed the deal.”
“So what happened?”
“J. R. Lockton happened. He was jealous of me because I beat him at every tournament. I was out one day at the driving range and he was there. He accused me of cheating and I confronted him. Words were exchanged and he slammed his club on my right arm shattering it.”
“Aye, I see.”
“Lockton won the Michigan Amateur Tournament. He ruined my shot at the pros. The arm never healed properly and I could never regain my old form. So I figure that I deserve some kind of compensation for what happened.”
“You make a good point.”
“So help me win this one tournament and gain some revenge. What do you say?”
“I’ll be there to help you out.”
“Great. How will I know you’re there?”
“I’ll give you a sign.”
“What kind of sign?”
“You’ll know I’m there.”
Mike walked away.
6
It was a perfect day for golf. Mike stood on the first hole and nervously looked around for a sign that Beezer was present. He couldn’t wait any longer and he lined up his first shot and hit the ball straight. It was a good one.
Mike smiled and gained some much needed confidence.
The second shot was not so great and looked like it was going into the water, when it hit something and squirted back onto the green.
There’s my sign.
By the sixth hole, Mike held a slight one-shot lead over J. R. Mike’s tee shot sailed straight before it started to curve and landed in a small clump of trees.
“That’s more like it,” said Lockton.
Mike ignored him.
Once he was in the clump of trees searching for the ball, he looked around for the brownie.
“Beezer where are you?”
The little one appeared and smiled up at Mike. “Right here.”
“How could you let the ball land in here?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just got here. You’ve been doing it all on your own.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No, it’s true.”
“Quit playing games, Beezer.”
“Remember it’s a game of skill and patience.”
“Right. With a little help from you.”
The brownie disappeared.
At the end of the first nine holes, Mike held a one-stroke lead over Stockton and Ned Lump. There had been no sign of the arrogant brownie for the last three rounds.
Maybe I don’t need him after all?
On the eleventh hole, he continued to golf just well enough to maintain a one-stroke lead. On the green, he made a twenty-five foot putt and drained it. Just when it looked like the ball was going to move to the right and miss the hole, it curved and dropped in.
On the thirteenth hole he managed to barely avoid the water hazard. With a strong approach shot that bounced on the green and looked like it was going to overshoot it’s destiny, the ball hit the flagpole after taking a strange bounce.
Good work Beezer.
On the fifteenth hole, he worked his way out of the sand trap. The ball shot out and amid a wall of crystals and landed on the green but didn’t look like it had the momentum to make it all the way. In fact, at one point it slowed right down and was about ready to stop when it fell.
On the seventeenth hole, Lump and Lockton were breathing down his neck. They were still each a stroke behind Mike who played with a certain level of confidence.
The tee shot was a good solid hit and raced down the fairway landing in a strategic position. Both golfers hit bad shots and just when it seemed that Mike held a distinct advantage, both golfers recovered nicely. His two rivals finished with one over par for the hole after Mike two-putt and registered a double bogey. The three combatants were now tied.
On the eighteenth hole, Mike hit a towering tee shot and it landed about fifty yards from the green. The other two players followed suit with strong drives of their own.
All three chipped onto the green. But Lockton’s attempted putt curved to the left. Lump missed.
Mike stood at the hole. He was one putt away from winning the Michigan Amateur Tournament. The ball was three feet from the cup on an even surface.
Mike took a deep breath and lined it up. He hit the ball and it rolled toward the hole but at the last minute curved and shot to the right.
Lump followed and sunk his ball to take a one-stroke lead. J. R. missed and the tournament was over.
Mike shook Ned’s hand and walked off the course.
7
The sun was almost setting when Mike entered the woods. “Okay, where are you?”
Beezer appeared behind Mike.
“Here.”
Mike turned around. “I thought we had a deal?”
“We did. I helped you win a tournament.”
“You double-crossed me. You said you were going to help me win the Michigan Amateur Tournament. What happened?”
“I’m a Brownie, not a magician. We are meant to help people out not help them cheat at golf tournaments.”
“But you promised.”
“I promised to help you out. And I think I did. It wasn’t meant to be, Mick. You’re a good golfer, but not good enough.”
“All I wanted to do is win that tournament.”
“And then it would have been another and another until you won them all.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Would
