"Sudden Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Balkind Michael)

Chapter 12

Reid was actually feeling pretty good. Ahead by only two shots, he had some work to do. Although the back nine was known to be much more difficult, he liked it on this course more than the front. He counted on it to intimidate the other players into making mistakes, giving him a chance to increase his lead. All things considered, he was fairly loose, but he had not been able to get into the zone on the front nine. He needed to now, in spite of the circumstances.

Howard and his caddie were at the tee box already. The twosome in front of them had just hit their second shots and were walking toward the green.

Given the okay, Reid teed up his ball and took a few practice swings to loosen up. He focused on the ball and said to himself, “It’s now or never.” He swung his club and hit one of his best drives of the day. He turned and made eye contact with Buck and the girls. He smiled and winked. Betsy gave him the thumbs-up.

Howard also hit an excellent drive, not as long as Reid’s, but then, no one hit as long as Reid. They started walking, and the gallery fell into motion behind them. Reid parred the next few holes. After having birdied two of the holes, Howard was now alone in second place. Reid maintained his two shot lead with five holes to go. He was finally in the zone.

The number of tournament security guards and volunteers assigned to their group had doubled since the morning. Most of the spectators on the course were now following Reid and Howard. The increased security was doing its job of keeping the crowd fairly quiet and behind the barriers. The hecklers had given up for fear of getting thrown off the course as the match neared its end. Even the reporters and camera crews were staying well out of the way.

The 14th hole was a soft dogleg to the left. Reid’s tee shot was a little too long. He now had a large tree in his path to the green. Howard’s shot, shorter and further left than Reid’s, left his next shot wide open. He hit it perfectly. Reid studied his shot and asked Buddy. “High or low?” “If you try to go over, you won’t make the green,” Buddy said. “You have to punch it low.” “I agree. I guess I’ll use my three.” “Don’t take a full swing. Try about three quarters. Land it a little further than halfway to the green and let it run. You’ll need enough speed to make it over the last hill, but then the green slopes down to the pin. This is gonna be tricky, but you can do it.”

“Easy for you to say.” Reid took a few practice swings then stepped up to the ball. As he brought his club back he thought of the note and his arms tensed as he swung and hit the ball. Reid knew immediately it was no good. He had hit it too hard and it landed way too close to the green. It ran fast up the hill, took air, landed in the center of the green and continued off the back, through the scattering gallery, stopping about 10 yards into the rough. “Ouch,” Reid said. “Yeah,” Buddy agreed. They walked to the ball. Security had moved the crowd out of the way. For the first time all day, the gallery remained silent. Reid took his lobwedge and hit a high lofting shot that came to rest leaving a 20 foot putt. Not what he had intended. Two putts later, he finished with a double bogey.

Howard parred the hole and they were tied for the lead. Reid sighed, shaking his head in disgust. His body tensed as he aggressively handed his putter to Buddy. “Calm down,” Buddy said. “You need to stay loose.”

“Oh, shut up,” Reid said quietly. Buddy knew that had been coming, but it didn’t faze him; in fact, Reid said it to him fairly often. Buddy always let it go. It was one of the things Reid liked about him and why they made a good team. Buddy let Reid blow off steam at him regularly. He knew Reid didn’t mean it personally; he just needed to vent. Buddy considered it part of his job. He gave Reid a moment then said, “Okay? Are you ready to continue?” “Yeah, sorry,” Reid sighed. “No problem. Now let’s go get the lead back and finish this thing already.” Reid parred 15 and 16. Howard parred 15 and birdied 16, taking the lead by one. Reid then birdied the 17th while Howard shot par. They were tied going into the 18th hole, a par four.

The crowd was buzzing. An ending like this in the Master’s was as exciting as golf could get. Third and fourth positions were already determined. No other players really had a chance at first or second, barring any extreme disaster with Reid or Howard, that is. The Green Jacket was going home with one of them.

They walked onto the 18th tee box. Reid teed up his ball, walked back, shook Howard’s hand and said, “Good luck.” He went back to his ball and took a practice swing. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He relaxed, concentrated on the ball and swung. His drive was flawless, incredibly long with the perfect fade, leaving an easy approach shot to the green.

Howard then went through his pre-shot actions and hit his drive; again shorter than Reid’s, but right in the middle. They walked to Howard’s ball. He had about 170 yards to the green. He took a practice swing, then another, then one more. It was out of character for him but it was certainly understandable. He then hit his ball nicely; it bounced on the green and stopped about 20 feet from the pin. They walked another 30 yards to Reid’s ball. Buddy handed him his wedge. He took one practice swing then hit the ball. The ball flew high and dropped right next to the pin, causing a burst of applause from the crowd. If it had stopped there it would have been the perfect shot, but its rapid backspin ripped into the green sending the ball in the direction from where it came. The gallery’s sudden change of reaction from applause to moans was almost laughable. The ball finally came to rest just inside Howard’s.

They walked up to the undulating dance floor among cheers from the crowd. Reid marked his ball’s position and picked it up.

Howard studied his putt with his caddie and determined the break in the green. He took a few practice swings, lined up and hit his ball. It broke left and rolled toward the hole. Reid thought he had it nailed, but the ball passed the hole a quarter-inch to the left and stopped about six inches away. The gallery moaned then quietly applauded.

Reid placed his ball back in position. He and Buddy studied the putt from different angles. They talked about the break and discussed Howard’s putt. Reid approached his ball, took a few practice swings, then a deep cleansing breath. He swung his putter and hit the ball. It broke left, following a similar path as Howard’s putt. Reid had intended to hit hard enough to compensate for the break in the green. Instead, his unusually soft touch had taken over and he watched the ball lose momentum as it inched toward the hole. Its agonizingly slow pace caused it to veer slightly off target due to a small break in the green. Just as Reid accepted that the playoff would continue, the ball caught the rim of the cup and circled once before dropping in.

Reid let out a huge sigh. The crowd went absolutely crazy. Buddy ran over and lifted Reid in a big bear hug. “You did it!” “Yes I did, didn’t I!” Reid said, not trying to hide his tears. After Buddy set him down and the crowd settled, Howard tapped in his putt. Reid walked over and shook his hand. “Great game, Howard.” “Congratulations,” Howard said, patting Reid on the back. “It was a pleasure to play with you today.” “Thank you. You, too.” Security cleared their path to the scoring tent where they signed and submitted their scorecards. Reid’s euphoria was kept in check by his subconscious thoughts of the note. There’s nothing like achieving the goal of a lifetime while harboring the angst of a death threat, he thought.