Typical Day
Thirty-year-old Kerry Yobags is the personal caddie for Hal Enwon. It's the middle of the summer and Hal is playing in the prestigious Ryder Cup. The stakes are high—even higher than normal. As a matter of fact, no golf tournament has ever been so important.
Think Miracle on Ice, except instead of Russia and hockey it's Scotland and golf. Andrew McLellan, the golfer representing Scotland, is the biggest threat to Hal, and unfortunately, his skill isn't just hearsay. If Hal loses to this twenty-year-old prodigy, it'll be devastating for the United States and their multi-year hold on the trophy.
Kerry and Hal are all butterflies as they step onto the eighteen-hole course. It's early on Sunday morning and, though it's still cold, they're sweating profusely. Andrew, of course, looks freshly pressed and relaxed—which only adds to Kerry and Hal's nerves.
Even though she played (and replayed) this course with Hal throughout the weekend, Kerry reviews their plan of attack. Nothing's changed, but they can't just twiddle their thumbs—not while the pride of America hangs in the balance (not to mention the $9 million prize pool).
Kerry reminds Hal of traps to be wary of and of the oddly sloped green on the fifteenth hole. It's unnecessary, of course—Kerry will be by Hal's side to remind him of things like that for the entire round—but it delivers both of them some sorely needed peace of mind.
The round begins and Hal gets off to a solid start. Kerry's yardage estimates are on fire—she knows when he should use his 7 iron instead of his 6 iron, and when she needs to account for wind and elevated greens. Hal trusts her completely, but in the end it's still his game, not hers. Sometimes, whether Kerry agrees or not, Hal will stubbornly pick his club—a different one than Kerry recommended—and do it his way.
However it works, Kerry and Hal's "teamwork" is on point today; Hal's hot start carries on into the middle holes of the round. As they approach the seventh green—which gave them trouble all through the weekend—Hal turns to Kerry for some advice.
"You're going to want to aim about a foot above the hole, I think. The grain of the grass and the slope of the hill, combined with the shifting winds, will place it nicely in—"
"No, no, no. If I do that, I'll get stuck about four inches from the hole, right by that slight bump in the green. You see that?"
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, you're right." Kerry doesn't want to push this. Hal can get pretty rude and mean when she's insistent, and this isn't the time to press him. She muffles her disagreement. After all, he's the pro golfer, not her.
Kerry hopes she's wrong, but she can't help but think her move would put Hal in an ideal position. All she can do now is stand back and watch. Their opponent, Andrew, looks all too relaxed. Smug, even. He must know that if Hal misses this thing, it'll be a tough hole to climb out of. Kerry is so tense you could hit her with a wooden board and it'd snap in half.
Hal takes a deep breath and sends the ball straight at the hole with a soft putt. At the last second it kicks wide left. Andrew swallows what Kerry is sure was a smirk, steps up and swings without even a hint of hesitation. Ker-plop. That's par for him, and a double-bogey for Hal.
Hal is shaken up, but unapologetic. It's not Kerry's job to hold a grudge or to say "I told you so," so she keeps quiet and shakes it off. Hal puts more trust in her on the next few holes and, thanks to Hal's skill and Kerry's input, they find themselves pulling ahead of nearly everyone else in the field. By the eighteenth hole, they're just a single stroke behind you-know-who.
Kerry tries to think of the greater good—after all, America's hold on the Cup hangs on the outcome of this hole—but she knows her paycheck is riding on the outcome, too. If Hal wins, he'll see more than $1,500,000 of the prize pool, and Kerry will strut home with a cool $150,000. Hal needs to win this; she's simply not ready to forfeit her vacation to Costa Rica.
Kerry gives Hal his hybrid.
"Swing hard," she whispers. "The wind is coming strong, right at us."
Hal nods and grabs the club. He adjusts his glove, takes a deep breath, and swings. He nails it, and Kerry's eyes are glued to the ball as it flies through the sky, and then drops onto the green.
Kerry tries to contain her excitement. It's far too early to celebrate. The impossible can always happen in golf—a hole in one, another drive onto the green—and, if anyone can do the impossible, it's this Andrew McLellan guy.
The world takes a collective breath; Kerry coughs. Andrew narrows his eyes and swings. The ball looks good in the air, but midway through its flight, the wind catches it, knocking it into a sand trap along the fairway.
If Hal can sink this putt, they should be in position to win. Kerry puts her hand on Hal's shoulder. "We've got him," she whispers.
"Well, Kerry, what would you do?" Hal asks.
She grabs a putter and hands it to him. "Gently, right on target."
"I don't know." Hal pauses. "Maybe if I hit it gently, right on target, it'll go right in." Kerry knows she just said that, but taking the blame and being "wrong" when things don't work is part of the job. At least he's taking her advice, even if she doesn't get the credit.
The next few seconds feel like a lifetime. Hal taps the ball with precision and grace and...boom. It lands on target and falls to the bottom of the cup.
Kerry looks forty yards down the fairway to Andrew, standing stoically in the sand trap. They lock eyes for a brief moment, and Kerry smiles triumphantly. She'll be sure to send him a postcard from Costa Rica.