Herb, a 15-handicapper, shocked his head pro by challenging him to a match – straight up, no strokes, with $100 to the winner.
“There’s just one condition,” Herb said. “I get two ‘gotchas’ to use any time during the round.”
“What’s a ‘gotcha’?” asked Jim, the pro.
“I’ll use one on the first hole,” Herb replied, “and you’ll understand.”
Jim thought it over. Two ‘gotchas,’ and only one after the first hole. Whatever they are, they can’t make that much difference. He accepted Herb’s bet, and off they went.
Word got out about the match and a few hours later, members gathered around the 18th green were stunned to see Jim forking over $100 to Herb. The curious crowd shuffled into the clubhouse and waited for Jim.
“How the heck did you lose to Herb?” they asked when the pro arrived.
“Well, Herb was standing behind me when I teed off on number one,” Jim explained. “Just as I reached the top of my backswing, he reached out, pinched me on the backside and said, ‘Gotcha!’ I topped the ball no more than 20 yards.”
“OK,” one member responded, “so you hit one bad tee shot. What about the rest of the round?”
“Hmmph,” Jim sniffed. “Let’s see you play 18 holes waiting for a second ‘gotcha!’”
Golf is a Four-Letter Word
A nun named Alice is speaking to her Mother Superior and says, “I uttered a dreadful curse word this week and I’m terribly ashamed.”
“Tell me Sister Alice,” the Mother Superior responds calmly, “when did this happen?”
“When I was playing golf with Sister Isabelle the other day,” Alice replies. “On the seventh hole, I hit a beautiful drive, only to see it strike a phone wire hanging across the fairway and drop straight down, no more than 100 yards from the tee.”
“And this caused you to curse?”
“No,” Alice says. “As I walked toward my ball, a squirrel ran up and grabbed it in his mouth, then retreated toward the woods.”
“Ah, so that’s when you swore.”
“No, it’s not. Before the squirrel reached the trees, a huge hawk swooped down and snatched him into the air.”
“Amazing,” Mother Superior said. “I suppose that sent you over the edge.”
“No, at that point I was completely astounded by what I was seeing,” Alice said.
“As the hawk flew toward the green, the squirrel dropped the ball. It landed on a large rock and...”
“Bounced into the trees,” Mother Superior interjected, “causing your transgression.”
“Actually,” Alice corrected her, “the ball caromed onto the green and stopped a foot from the hole.”
Silence. After a few seconds, Mother Superior sighed and shook her head. “You missed the #$&% putt, didn’t you.”