How much Milt is too much Milt?

As sad as it seems, Mens' Night went on without me.  When I pulled into the golf course, I expected to see the lights of the Club House dimmed.  Perhaps I would find a few guys sitting on the deck, telling stories about my golfing exploits, while Dave Gill led a small but tasteful candlelight vigil in my honour beneath the flat screen television.  Imagine my chagrin when I pulled in just after 10:00 pm, on the way home from my meeting...and found 32 golfers smiling and laughing, while tipping both drink glasses and waitresses.

If it was any consolation, Wes and Blake, my organizing partners, struggled without me.  They still had yet to sort out the prizes, and they looked thirsty and hungry.  On a positive note, for two people at least, they paid out an extra $7.00 for one skin.  Of course, I adjusted this on the money list.

Despite some bleak forecasts earlier in the week, it turned out to be a clear, if not slightly cool evening on the links. Skins were won by Robin and Dennis ($29 on #1), Beaker Sr. and Milt ($36 on #7), and Dale and Sport ($20 on #8).  Closest to the pins were Sport on #5 and Robbie Eastcott on #9.  The big story of the night was a deuce by Chris Hyrsak, which netted him $111.00.  He used part of his winnings later in the evening when Milt ordered a round for the table but refused to pay for it.  Six more golfers also joined the new and improved Ringer Board.

Given that I missed the golfing portion of the evening, I had to rely on field reporters to give me some highlights.  Several mentioned Denny's adventures, including his shanking of one shot through the windshield of Wes's cart.  Someone else told me how Denny did not play well in the evening because of his senior golf in the morning.  When I talked with Mr. Green he simply said that 27 holes in one day were too much for his broken-down old body.

I also heard tales of how one group (Milt, Benton, and Neuf) all fired shots from the seventh tee box at other players on the sixth hole.  Robbie told me of how Austin Hunter out drove his dad Blake every f____ing hit.  I apologize for the censorship on the last line but I know that Diane Cramer reads this blog...and I don't want to offend anyone's fiancée.  I also learned how one bushy-haired gentleman complained for eight consecutive holes about the limited meat-based dining options.  I tried to avoid saying Milt's name here, because I already referenced him twice.  Either he constantly does stuff that warrants attention, or I am obsessed with him.  For my sake, I hope that it is the former.

Have a good end to the week...and I'll see most of you at the Eagles' Tournament on Saturday.