BACK NINE THE AUSTIN GOLF CLUB STORIES

THE UNGREENING OF THE AUSTIN GOLF CLUB

There is an enjoyable, predictable, low comedy in cantankerous meetings among antiestablishmentarians.  The rails were greased for this conflict between vague anarchism and order in the Austin Golf Club bylaws, which allow for creation at will of roundtables on any issues not addressed—or “improperly addressed”—by the formal committees. The makeup of the club membership, being a mix of bohemian slackers and crotchety old guard golfers who had played the course for decades, fed this culture mash. Some notable results of this mix had been the Nudist Roundtable, the Temperance Roundtable, and the Base-Two Scorecard Revision Roundtable. Among these, only the nudists had any success, and that only after an alliance with the temperance group, perhaps a wise conjunction, given human nature. The latest meeting was a joint session of the longstanding Greens Committee and the Environmental Concerns Roundtable, a new and unhappy group.             A close monitoring by the roundtable of expenses showed that the golf greens accounted for over 50 percent of the course maintenance budget for manpower and materials. (Many failed attempts to cleverly use “green” in reference to putting surfaces versus money versus environmental concerns would clutter the meeting’s minutes.) The roundtable had called for an emergency meeting to address these issues, and tensions were running about as high as they ever managed to do around the 19th hole. Between jibes at those finishing their rounds on the 9th green below, speculation on what the Environmental Concerns Roundtable might propose preoccupied the tipplers on the verandah.             “I predict mandatory potato starch tees,” opined Alfred Joe Littlefield. “That or buffalo grass fairways to replace the Bermuda, which might not be a bad idea.”             “We already don’t use chemical fertilizers, so my guess is they’ll demand we have to use composted manure from free-range chickens,” huffed Barker Baines Johnson.             Paul B, the most junior senior member, stared off at a density of grackles performing electronica in an ancient live oak. “I suspect we may be in for something grander.”   * * *               Sinfonia Dugger launched the instant the opening gavel hit the block. “Environmentally, economically, and morally...”             “Madam, you are out of order. I am presiding and will recognize speakers in the normal fashion,” Greens Committee chair Boynton Butler pronounced.             “Do not call me ‘madam,’ sir.  I am not supervising a herd of whores.”             “Can you provide proof of that, sister?” Barker Baines Johnson slurred from his chair at the end of the dais.             Sinfonia reddened and glared. “Johnson, you old souse, repeat that and we’ll be using your ground-up carcass for fertilizer.”             Butler gaveled three echoing cracks. “Again, folks, there are rules for conducting meetings that we shall follow. USGA Rules…I mean, Robert’s Rules require any speaker first be recognized by the chair—me—and right now none of you are not looking very familiar to me.” The muttering abated. “OK, Madam, Ms., Sahib, Your Highness, whatever Dugger. Proceed.”             Sinfonia Dugger pursed her lips but swallowed a retort. “Members of the Greens Committee…” There followed a detailed exposition with accompanying multipage spreadsheet detailing the high percentage of the budget the nine greens at the club consumed, something that had already been made clear prior to the meeting. On and on it went. Indeed  many in attendance who had looked forward to a fun fight, including some on the Greens Committee, slipped out of the meeting. Sinfonia’s monotone drone lulled those left in attendance so thoroughly that when she finally announced the roundtable’s recommendation, the dulled audience shifted their heads around like quizzical birds, chirping to one another “What did she say?” “Do what?” “Did I hear her say…?”             Barker Baines Johnson laughed loudly. “I was expecting something wacko, but tearing out the greens at a golf course tops even my most opiate-induced fantasies. Dugger, you and your roundtable are beyond nuts.”             “Johnson, as you well understand, we are not proposing eliminating a putting surface, we are proposing—demanding, to be clear—that the grass greens be replaced with a sand and sawdust mix, as was the custom for years at many courses.”             Johnson stood. “Ah, Dugger, only someone of a willful perversity such as yourself would want to make the target of the game out of a material everyone else regards as a hazard. Sand, indeed. I refuse to participate in this exercise in eco-zombiism.” He headed out the door in a grand huff, not really wanting to leave, for he loved insulting Sinfonia, but the need to empty his bladder forced his theatrics.             Sinfonia spluttered but inwardly feared that his characterization of her as perverse indicated knowledge of events she had hoped were locked away. “Mr. Chairperson, I move that the roundtable’s demands be put to a vote by the Greens Committee.” A second was heard.             Boynton Butler started to call the question.             “Point of order,” said Paul B, arising from a half-slumber in the rear of the room. “I do not believe there is a quorum any longer.”             Indeed, Barker Baines Johnson’s peeing had eliminated more than bicarbonate, chloride, phosphorus, sulphur, bromide, fluoride, iodide, rhodanide, potassium, natron, calcium, magnesium, iron, copper, zinc, cobalt, selenium, arsenium, lead, mercury, urea, creatine, creatinine, guanidine, choline, carnitine, piperidine, spermidine, dopamine, epinephrine, norepinephrine, serotonin, tryptamine, levulinique amino-acid, bilirubin, alanine, carnosine, glycine, histidine, leucine, lysine, methionine, phenylalanine, serine, tyrosine, valine, hydroxyloproline, galactosylhydroxylyzine, xylosylserine, albumin, haptoglobin, transferrin, immunoglobulins IgG, IgA, IgM, lactadehydrogenase, gamma-glutamyl transferase, alpha amylase, uropepsinogene, lysozyme, beta-N-acetylglucosaminidase, urokinase, protease, arabinose, xyloseribose, fucose, rhammose, ketopentose, glucose, galactose, mannose, fructose, lactose, sucrose, fucosylglucose, raffinose, etc.  It had also eliminated the chance to vote on the Environmental Concerns Roundtable’s proposal. But they were a tenacious group, and it was sure to return. Paul B made a mental note to contact an old flame.   *   *   *               The old Main Loan at the University of Texas Library, on the second through seventeenth floors of the grand Tower, had employed a spectacular covey of bohemians, hippies, slackers, ne’er-do-wells, and do-wells. This had been Paul B’s domain for over twenty-five years. He had risen as far in the clerical ranks as was possible. Every attractive young co-ed who held a part-time job in the main library had held him in quizzical awe as he regaled them with stories of their predecessors who had been beheaded by the Sneed, the continuously running delivery system that the worker bees used to send books from the closed stacks to the circulation desk.             Although there was a genuine congeniality among the clerical staff and the professional librarians, rank had its place. Paul B knew this all too well due to his fondness for Mona Trieste, the head reference librarian. She was open, friendly, helpful, but had a slight haughtiness borne of her ability to answer anything. Paul B found this haughtiness alluring, but the caste system had kept him from ever pursuing her. He had only seen her on rare occasions since he retired from the library and it always brought on pangs. His current information need was the perfect excuse to visit her.   * * *               Mona Trieste smiled as she handed Paul B a photocopy of “Sand Greens on a Sawdust Base” from the June 21, 1923 Bulletin of the Green Section of the U.S. Golf Association, page 166. “I think this may do the trick, Paul.”             Paul B scanned it and said, “I’ll buy you dinner if it does.”             She laughed noncommittally, making her would-be suitor pang anew.   * * *               Paul B deferred to Barker Baines Johnson to do the reading, both because the latter derived so much pleasure from it and he had a mastery of sarcastic tone that the occasion called for.             At the next joint Greens Committee - Environmental Concerns Roundtable session, after the question was called and the floor opened for discussion, Johnson took the floor. “The main objection to our current grass greens”–the latter two words spoken in an exaggerated  scary yodel–“seems to be excessive maintenance. May I read from an official greens-keeper publication of the USGA analyzing sawdust and sand greens? ‘The main objection to these greens is that it is impossible to get the surface flat, as it is always slightly rolling and therefore not quite true to putt on. Furthermore, in order to use these greens it would be necessary for us to double the maintenance force that we have in use on the courses.” Barker paused and stared at Sinfonia Dugger. “Madam, a bit of simple research on your part would have saved this esteemed committee much time and angst.”             He sat. Grass grew. Sinfonia sulked. Paul B panged.  © Red Wassenich May 2008 Back Nine home page | Back Nine table of contents | Next story If you would like to be notified when a new story appears, send us an email at backninestories@gmail.com. Back Nine: The Austin Golf Club Stories Web site founded April 2008 All stories copyright of the authors. May not be reproduced without permission (the stories, not the authors).