They arrived by plane, soccer taxi and midnight cabs. After leaving at 1:30 a.m. Thursday night, in the darkest hour of the night, Duke Damron took to his trusty steed and left the pastoral commune of Moosehead, Saskatchewan, Ontario, Canada behind, surprisingly arriving at 804 with minutes to spare. Both Steve and Duke road-tripped to MSP where, save for a few time-trialed laps around the airport, we found B. Michael Anderson ready and waiting to play. First, it was The Wilds in Prior Lake, MN.
In a twist, we were paired up on the first tee with a water tower painter-cum-U.S. Army Ranger-cum-Knoxville, Tennessee-native and proud racist, "Mitchell." So there we were, in the Minnesota forest, Duke, Steve, Crazy Mitchell and Ben. It was in there that we began our Oregon Trail-like navigation of the Twin Cities' elite courses with a tough test just outside Mystic Lake Casino. The Wilds course was thrice voted Minnesota's top public track. Tough layout, undulating greens and a veritable free-flow of alcoholic beverages made it, at least, interesting.
While we didn't have to portage the Mississippi, have an ox throw a shoe or lose anyone to dysentery, Duke did talk shit on 18 and lost the hole, runner-up honors and "exclusive Mom rights" to Steve. Ben played solid, carding an 89 and taking the Pro-Am's medalist honors. This was also the first of two courses where we were basically kindly asked to leave (despite our round being over) after driving golf carts into the parking lot. Apparently that’s a course liability and a big no-no in Minnesota. Huh.
After a cookout and some cocktails at Steve’s, a few steaks and a trip or two down memory lane later and we went to bed. Avery arrived around 2 a.m. to a bunch of old dudes who had been sleeping for a few hours. It was not a pretty sight for a man who had been stuck in an airport next to bizarro Duke, and on a plane for the last four hours.
They played through torrential downpours and over standing water; thrashing their balls to a fro despite thick rough and thin patience. On Saturday, after breakfast at a local greasy spoon and a truncated Summit Brewing Tour, the E40H crew loaded up Daycare Dancer and headed east for Hudson, Wisconsin and the premier public course in the Twin Cities metro-Tom Lehman's Troy Burne.
Long story short, we got pissed on the whole time and Ben—surprise, surprise—played solid again. Still, aside from an hour rain delay (which gave us enough time to suck down a little booze, except for Duke who unnecessarily volunteered to be DD), a few shaggy greens and a little standing water, the course was both a real brute and a real 'bute. About as good as you can expect, considering conditions.
The babbling brooks, picturesque layout, soaring herrings, prancing baby deers, knee-high fescue, and forbodingly-oversized pictures of Lehman made the round a memorable one. Again, Ben took home medalist honors and the early 3-1 points lead (modified scoring included a point for the winner of the game of "Wolf," and three points for front, back, and overall low nine score).
Ben knocked it to four feet on 12, but Avery's pressure-packed five iron to a pin tucked precariously close to the water on 17's peninsula green was the Shot of the Day. Sure, he choked on the uphill 10-footer that would have clinched, but let’s not talk about that.
They took six Sake shots and still made a 6 a.m. tee time. When it was all said and done, there were four players. Four slight hangovers. Four depleted bank accounts. After a night of hitting up an unbelievably busy sushi restaurant and experiencing an amazing array of St. Paul nightlife that included old chicks at a tequila bar, an underage scantily-clad bartender, and a post-Midnight run to a former bank turned McDonald's, the E40H crew bedded down for a second night at Steve's old condo only to awake two hours later and head to Eagle Valley GC in scenic Woodbury, Minnesota—"Where interesting people go to die."
One trophy retained. We were up so early even BK was closed. I mean, damn! However, this early morning excursion, begun even as fog hovered sleepily over the dew-lined fairways, was the embodiment of the spirit of Edward 40 Hands—Strength. Honor. Heartburn. And an understaffed club house that looked fit for a French porn (don’t tell me you guys weren’t thinking about “Emmanuelle”) rather than facilitating a quick 18.
Steve made a run at the trophy with a front-side flourish until a disastrous, Van DeVeldian-like collapse on No. 9 all but ended his day. Avery made some early moves on the back, going head-to-head with Ben “Automatic” Anderson, but fell short as jet-lag, a time crunch, and an overall discomfort with Duke’s personal hygiene began to take its toll.
Speaking of Duke “I’ll gladly play a 35-yard slice” Damron, he turned in a respectable performance on Sunday, closing with a backside 46 en route to a two-day total of 209. That also marked the first and only time he’s ever closed a backside, rather than open one up.
Avery’s score of 188 (93-95) was a mirror image of tournament host, executive director, E40H founder and world’s oldest 30-year-old, Steve. As Pease holed out for a 93 at Eagle Valley it marked the close of a two-weekend, 123-hole blowout, taking him to six different cities and a whole new level of alcohol tolerance. However, all players were road-weary, dehydrated and more than a little horny by weeks-close.
But in the end, it recently knighted Sir. B.Michael Anderson who took home The Payne for a second consecutive tournament, posting a (90-89) 179. The trophy will no doubt sit on his mantel, where he will intently stare at it during his nightly ritual of self-felation attempts followed by deep, deep man crying.
Another year played, another group bested. Ben is again Edward 40 Hands champion. You bastard. See you in Frankfurt.
SP. 6/28/11
