For reasons too boring to go into, I’m in Norway without my golf clubs. Earlier this week, in celebration of Addison’s twenty-first birthday, Reese took everyone who wasn’t in Norway to the Yale Golf Course, which was designed by Charles Blair Macdonald and is one of my favorites anywhere. While Hacker was looking for a ball in the tall grass on the seventh hole, Doug hit a power slice from the eighth tee and clobbered Hacker in the thigh (see result above).
Hacker is a trooper. Years ago, he felt a twinge in his chest as he was hitting an explosion shot from the bunker in front of our eighteenth hole. He drank a couple of beers with the guys, then went home and mowed his lawn. Only after he had finished the yard did he drive himself to the hospital and learn that he’d had a heart attack.
The Yale accident happened on Tuesday, and I’ve been rushing home ever since. I’ll probably see Hacker tomorrow, when the gang tees off for a bonus round following the Labor Day mixed event.