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                           RSG-PITTSBURGH 2001
                              Dave Tutelman

As usual, Mark Georg handled the arrangements.
As usual, a great time was had by all.
That's probably all that NEEDS to be said, but let's just write on...

I rode out with Coops and Fred Stluka Thursday night.  When we got 
there, Thor was already settled in, and we caught up over beers.  Oh 
yes, "there" was the Butler House, the B&B at Butlers golf course. Eight
of us stayed there Friday and Saturday nights.  But so far, it was just 
the four of us; Fred's brother Tom arrived later, and three more joined
us for the weekend.

Friday morning, breakfast at the Rock Run Inn (the restaurant at the
course), then the hour's drive to Lindenwood.  (Worth every minute.)
Saw a bunch of folks I hadn't seen in months, starting with host Mark, 
Brent Hutto, Joe Conte, Bill Hogsett, and Jon Green.  Also met a few 
new faces.

We played all 27 holes... well some of us did, anyway.  Kind of a large
dose for several folks who haven't played golf in a while; quite a few
sat out the last nine.  Of course, SOME sat out the first nine; I didn't
see Terry Easton until about the 25th hole, because he arrived late.
Terry exercised his usual sharp eyes to collect a box of mixed balls 
from the rough and the trees, and offered them as the prize for the 
Friday night "best story" competition.  While it was won by Joe Conte, 
I can't limit this narrative to just his story, nor even just to the 
stories in the contest.  Among the tales to emerge from Friday:

* Coops, playing just his second round of the year, went into "the zone"
  for about 7 holes in the middle of the round. In this stretch, he had
  all pars except for one bogey.

* My foursome was busy with our short game on the 8th (Gold course),
  when a cacophony arose from the nearby green of the par-3 4th.  An ace
  had been made by another group.  All sorts of noise and distraction
  while we were chipping and putting -- but it was a happy occasion.

* Coops was playing a match against Brent and me, and was about to close
  us out on the Gold 6th.  Brent and I were in trouble, while Coops was
  already up the hill in the vicinity of the green. (This hole is a
  toughie, with a severely elevated green at the top of a high bluff,
  bunker in front, and woods on the right.)  Then Brent topped his
  approach to the right towards the woods; but it hit the cart path,
  took a crazy bounce, and continued its unlikely bouncing all the way
  up the hill on the paved path.  At the top, the path deposited his
  ball in easy chipping range of the green.  Then I thinned a screamer
  straight at the front trap; it hit the sand, which took most of the
  speed off it, and kicked out onto the fringe of the green.  (Actually,
  if either of us had made the long putt, we would have extended the
  match -- but we didn't.  Close, anyway.)

* Thor had hit a PortaPotty with one of his shots. But more than just
  hit it.  The ball found a ball-sized vent hole and went through without
  losing any speed.  Then it rattled noisily in the fiberglass outhouse,
  "battabattabatta..."  You really had to hear it -- or hear Thor's
  imitation of it in the many retellings.

* The 3rd on the Blue course is a par-3 with elevated green about 8 feet 
  above the fairway just in front.  Miss it short, and you have to hit
  to the green over vertical retaining wall.  Bill Hogsett found himself
  just three or so feet from the wall, and decided to chance it with a
  lob wedge.  Caught it a little thin. The ball bounced off the wall and
  directly into Bill's shin -- hard!  I didn't know that mild-mannered
  Bill knew such language.  And, in honor of the mark on his leg, we
  renamed that nine the "Black and Blue course".

* Joe's story was one of putts -- many putts -- many, many putts. He and
  George were on the big green at the Gold 2nd hole, about 8 and 10 feet
  from the pin.  The third in their group (who will remain nameless) had
  gotten to the green with a heroic shot from under a tree, but it left
  him a long way from the pin.  His next SEVEN putts each left him still
  away.  When his eight putt was just inside Joe and George, they ended
  the misery by simultaneously singing, "That's good!"  (I got an eight
  on that hole myself, but at least they weren't eight putts.)

If this is Saturday, this must be Butlers.  We played the Red/Blue 
course in the morning, and the Gold/Green in the afternoon.  The Green
is brand new; none of us had ever played it before.  It is on the other
side of the lake that used to mark the edge of the course.  It is 
completely different in character from the rest of Butlers' holes. While
the other holes are certainly hilly, they are eminently walkable.  But
the Green nine?  When I paid at the desk and said I was going to walk,
they tried to scare me out of it. "There are seven miles of cart path on
just that nine." I walked anyway. (So did Thor, but I didn't have to tell
you that.) At the 8th hole, where the course transitions to the new nine,
the troll who punches your ticket asked again, "Do you REALLY intend to
walk?" Yes. Same story with the seven miles of cart path. And now we
could see the very daunting par-5 8th hole. Down a precipitous drop, 
then up an equally steep hill (twice as high) on the other side. But I
told the guy, "Thor will definitely finish the course. I don't know 
whether I'll finish the course or it will finish me, but I'm walking."

The course design is a mediocre attempt to rival some of the big-name
midwestern courses like Longaberger. But it has all the disadvantages
(difficult-to-walk, steep hills, and long walks -- frequently climbs --
from green to tee) without ever achieving that level of quality. The nine
included two full round trips from lake to summit, as well as several
other climbs of at least half that. It was clearly intended to be driven,
not walked. Even so, we not only survived and finished, we pulled away 
from the following groups.  By the time we finished, there were at least
three open holes behind us.

I suppose I shouldn't dwell on the new nine that much, but it was the
novel experience for most of us. I have played all the other Butlers 
holes quite a few times, and they fit like a comfortable glove. I really
enjoyed the 27 old holes, and my displeasure with the new ones was at
least as much fear and trepidation as actual physical discomfort. I 
played the morning round with Coops, Terry, and Jon, and we had a ball.

In the afternoon I was in a foursome with three Daves. Coulda' been a
fourth, but Super Dave Osborne was tied up in the "match for the cap".
Dave and Steve Metzler have an annual match with Mark and Coops for a
hat that must have some deep spiritual significance -- because it 
certainly isn't good-looking enough to fight over.  Mark and Coops
retained the cap. Then Coops lost the cap at dinner. (Actually it wasn't
lost; it was kidnapped by Thor, who hid it from them through the Sunday 
round.)

Fast-forward to Sunday morning, without mentioning the dive where we ate
Saturday night. Well, okay... Molnar's has 500 varieties of beer (none 
of us could come up with a beer they didn't have) and any kind of food 
you want as long as it's fried.  Terry ordered the "vegetable plate", 
and didn't recognize anything on it as a vegetable; it was deep-fried 
lumps of "stuff". But they did have pool tables and a tolerance for 
rowdiness. Indeed, unlike Woody's (our past Saturday-night place), they 
seemed to encourage our behavior.

OK then, Sunday is Cedarbrook. An hour's frost delay. Their reservation
system had us down for the Red course instead of the Gold we wanted.
But no matter; either course is a fun challenge.

I rode this time; no way could I have walked Cedarbrook's hills after
yesterday. Fred OF COURSE walked. And Super Dave and Steve rounded out
the foursome in another cart. Dave and Steve are certifiable. A round
with them has to be on the list of things a golfer must do at least 
once. I'd describe it as "NBA golf", with subtle needling and in-your-
face trash talking.  A couple of examples:

* Dave hits a big drive that fades into the rough on the right. Dave:
  "Gotta get rid of that tail." Steve:"I thought you had it surgically
  removed last year."

* While Steve addresses the ball on the tee, Dave tosses a headcover
  behind the ball. It isn't directly in Steve's backswing line, so he
  decides to ignore it. But he ticks it in the backswing, and it ruins
  his coordination; on the downswing, he winds up driving the clubhead
  and the headcover into the dirt, many inches behind the ball. In fact,
  the clubhead never gets to the ball at all; it is knocked off the tee
  by the divot.

That sort of thing went on all round.

Fred had a wonderful round; his 79 was his first time breaking 80. On the
tee at 16, he remarked that this could be his best round ever. (Hey, you
KNOW what the golf gods think of that kind of talk.) His tee shot was a
hook (Fred NEVER hooks) across the road and OB. But he still finished
well, and under 80.

My own round was really strange. Anytime I hit a good drive in or near
the fairway, I had a par or birdie. But a bad tee shot could leave me in
a confidence-free state, with a really bad score (two 8s and two 10s).
This started when I hit my approach at 2; I thought it was perfect, but
it airmailed the green and went OB. I was so bummed that I was in the
water or out of bounds on each of the next four holes; actually, I had
six balls OB or wet in those four holes.  Anyway, my score was lousy,
but I had six holes that I played like a pro: driver, wedge or 9i, and
one or two putts.

Because we got off reasonably early, we were able to leave for home at
2:30, and I was in my driveway before 9PM. Tired but happy.

Thanks, Mark.