Did you think sweltering heat kept me off the golf course?
Anyway, my foursome included Carol Turner, chief executive officer of Atrium Medical Center; Charlene Kurtz, infection control officer; and Lauren Busche, physical therapist.
Three medical professionals and one journalist.
Turner, who recently had surgery on her right knee, was reduced mostly to spectator as she rode in the cart, leaving it only a few times to putt.
On the second hole, right after we missed a birdie putt on the par 5 No. 1, Turner, the designated captain of our team, announced: “This one is only 368 yards. I know you guys can reach this in two shots.”
As she said this, she was sitting in the cart, protected from the sun, with a cool towel over her knee.
This may not come as a surprise, but Turner — arguably the region’s most important woman — got a lot of phone calls during the five-hour round. I didn’t have the nerve to ask her to turn off her cell phone. She looked pretty busy.
As for Kurtz and Busche, Charlene, always worried about germs, cleaned her club and golf ball after every shot, and Lauren made sure Turner’s knee was well iced.
I’m proud to report that Team Turner finished 5 under with six birdies and only one bogey and never used the eraser.
I won Men’s Longest Putt, which means either I’m a good putter or inaccurate hitting close approach shots.
But this day was more about survival than scoring. I drank 14 bottles of water, three Diet Pepsis and zero Michelob Ultras.
Sorry Dickerson Distributing. For one day, at least, my stock in Anheuser-Busch fell a few points.
My daughter, Hannah, turns 13 on Tuesday. When told that, one of my friends — a father with a 17-year-old daughter — told me: “Your life is about to change forever.”
Buddy, that happened on July 26, 1998.
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