Golf rules and griz plop

By GEORGE OSTROM

One of my best friends. Dan Lundgren, a multi-engine pilot in World War II, family man and good neighbor, is now in the Veteran's Home and suffering from Parkinson's disease. Dan was a serious and talented golfer and I often think about our good times on the West Glacier course. For memories sake, I'm taking the liberty of re-running a column that was fun for us 22 years ago:

First, a little background information for non-golfers.

GOLF: "A game played on a large outdoor obstacle course having a series of nine or 18 holes spaced far apart, the object being to propel a small ball with the use of a club into each hole with as few strokes as possible."

Note the use of the word "obstacle", also called hazards. The "rough" is a jungle of thorns, poison ivy, elephant grass and quicksand on one or both sides of the so-called "fairways." The ideal rough also provides a natural environment for alligators, skunks, water buffalo, or any vicious beasts and reptiles. In the fairways we have "natural" hazards such as trees, rocks, lakes, streams, oceans, sand bunkers, wind and rain. A mix of these "obstacles" is desirable because that makes the course more "challenging."

There are a few "man made" hazards such as cart paths, sprinkler heads, and size 12 ladies in size eight shorts. Balls which land on cart paths, sprinkler heads, and similar hazards may be "dropped" without penalty.

Glacier, Golf Course which allows players to have a free drop out of elk and moose track, just common sense. But this other thing?

Last October 5th, on that course. 220 yards out from the tee box on the #1 fairway there were several large mounds of fresh grizzly bear dung. No trouble for Arnie or Jack, but that's about how far I drive so my ball rolled perilously close to one of those menacing purple piles.

It was the start of my annual money match with Dan Lundgren, long time friend, very serious about his golf, and under most circumstances a reasonable man, I asked him what would be the local ruling if my ball had come to rest in the bear droppings. His answer was grim, "We play regulation golf here. You'd have to hit it out."

"You mean to tell me that I wouldn't get a free drop from that odiferous mountain of recycled huckleberries?"

If Dan was kidding, I couldn't tell, "No! We play it much the same as you would from a sand trap. Use a wedge or a 9 iron, hit down and through. You know! the explosion shot."

"Ah common!" I pleaded,"When you hit that kind of shot from a bunker, sand flies all over the place. If you tried it in a pile of fresh grizzly bear plop .. it would be ahh .. a .. disaster. "

While this was only a discussion of a hypothetical situation, there WERE seventeen holes yet to play and I could see many similar mounds up ahead. I wanted the issue settled. "Dan, we're only playin' for two bits a hole, and this isn't exactly The U.S. Open. Surely you wouldn't make a fella hit a ball out of that stuff? Besides, you can see I'm wearing my new white Thunderbirds golf shirt."

"I am sorry George, but I didn't make the rules. This wasn't meant to be a game for sissies- lf you start bending a rules here and making an exception there, pretty soon the game loses its most sacred aspect .. integrity."

It was then ,. and only then that I realized he was dead serious. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Dan was wearing an old jacket … something I'd never seen him do before on any golf course. The garment was the same deep purple color as fresh grizzly plop. There was a roll of paper towels on his cart, and just barely protruding from the breast pocket .. was a pair of goggles."