Growing up with Golf: the Wellington Stories

By R.N.A. Smith

Growing Up With Golf, subtitled The Wellington Stories, follows young Wellington and friend Finley for nine years of their golfing lives. This nine-story collection commences with the boys' first stabbing swings. By book's end, these buddies are driving cars as well as golf balls, and their friendship has been through more than one seemingly unplayable lie. Among the hazards faced by Wellie and Fin are little brothers, big girls, crude cousins, parental love, and, of course, golf's thorny spells.

There's much to be learned here by golfing "children" of any age. The stories hinge on timeless golf dilemmas, making Wellie and Fin more than just a cute twosome who swear a tad. With a sure sense of golfing psychology, the author has chipped in earthy chunks of our game's natural humor, rendering each tale a satisfying whole.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 30, 2004
• ISBN: 9781465333551

R.N.A. Smith

For four decades, R. N. A. Smith has sought to harness what he has seen, while clawing at his “inner eye” as well, to portray golf's myriad moments of significance. Along the way, morsels of praise have fueled him, with pride of place given to these threesomes: Hogan, Taylor, and Updike; Finegan, Donovan, and Coore. Still, he cannot deny that his writer's card displays bogies offsetting his birdies and eagles of text rarely made. R. N .A. intends to continue sweating toward new glories in the field of golf fiction and through golf-fiction.com to aid other literary linksters in bringing their gifts to light.

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Copyright © 2005 by Randolph Smith.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,

including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and

retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright

owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents

either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used

fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead,

events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

An Introduction

About The Scorecard

Loner’s Gift

The Ninth

Your Own Game

Triumph At Thirteen

Holding Back The Barbarians

Short But Sweet

Stormy Green

Old Barrel

TO TROY WELLY AND HIS MOM.

GOLF AWAITS YOUR RETURN.

An Introduction

Welcome to this collection of nine stories previously

published in Golf’s online literary magazine, DIVOT. I founded DIVOT and commenced publication with a June 18th issue in 1995. One hundred and forty issues later, I retired—temporarily, it turned out.

In the beginning, I was able to publish my little magazine at a mad rate, thanks to a decade-long stockpile of golf-writing already at hand. Three times each month, promptly on the ninth, eighteenth, and twenty-seventh day, another issue of DIVOT appeared . . . on my employer’s web server.

My first break came in December of that year. The magazine PC Computing came out with a Best 1001 Internet Sites issue. DIVOT was named among the eleven best in golf. Favorable press from various newspaper web gurus followed. This early acclaim allowed me to put DIVOT up for auction to the major golf web sites at that time.

Golf.com made me the best offer, and I began publishing under their banner in September 1996. When I left my host four years later, to retire as aforementioned, it proved a fortuitous decision: There was no golf.com a year later. After the site was bought out, its new parent company died when the web bubble burst. (As I write, there is once again a golf.com on the web, now a clone unfortunately of so many other all-purpose golf sites these days.)

Looking at my publishing schedule, I see that the first Wellington story to appear in DIVOT happened fairly early, the 9/9/95 issue. I’ve never been one to record dates directly on my work, and my memory is not so good these days, so I can’t tell you whether About The Scorecard was written long before my magazine began, or whether the specter of another looming deadline got me going on it.

However, my recollection regarding the last of the stories to be written is rather certain, seeing that its name was consciously made The Ninth. I could see the end of DIVOT coming, my joy in it having burned out, and so I made sure to squeeze in one more story in the set to make a proper golfing total of nine. The Ninth was featured in the second-to-last DIVOT issue, published on August 18, 2000.

But, enough of dates and such . . . If you never were a DIVOT reader, I’ve got some explaining to do. Here’s some Q&A hopefully of use.

For whom are these stories? For golfing children of all ages. I believe that parents will find them worthy of sharing with their wee players, and wish to read further on their own. I trust that today’s golfing teens will embrace the uncool style of these tales, feeling a fondness for simpler days pictured. And, I’m willing to bet that even hardened competitors will smile or frown from recollections revived.

Is Wellington someone I knew? No. Nor is he I. My father was not a low-handicapper. The golfing friend of my youth was built more like Wellie than Finley. You get the idea: Pure fictions are these young golfing buddies and each of their circle. But, the kiss—well, every author borrows some things from his or her past.

Who am I? In three putts: I was a Latin major, I am a college librarian, I have been a competitive golfer forever. These three elements, along with a naturally brutish writing style, influenced much of what appeared in DIVOT and its successor DIVOT REDUX. The Wellington stories, however, were shaped more softly. For, I gave myself some strong constraints from the start in crafting these tales. Vocabulary, complexity of character, subtext, and plot sophistication—all were supposed to grow from simple to demanding over the course of the nine stories. An unworthy goal, I found.

R.N.A. Smith—is that my real name? Last name, yeah, I’m a Smith. The initials R and N do match my given names; the A I claimed for being born of August, Augustus in Latin. It pleased me to use all those initials, because golfing gentlemen in our sport’s early days often chose likewise, rather than blaring their full names. At the same time, I saw a pun in being R.N.A. For, the august Royal & Ancient Golf Club is usually referred to as the R. and A.—which when uttered by most mortals sounds exactly like R.N.A.

Where should you begin? Well, it is customary to begin the round at the first hole. For those readers who do like to claim a literary license of their own, however, you may rest assured that each story reads fine out of succession.

What is the setting for these stories? You’ll notice that Wellington and Finley enjoy freedoms that allude to a cozier environment than what is commonly encountered today. Yet, the stories are fully up to date in their heart.

Can I still play? Glad you asked. The golf gods threw me a career best at my home course this year, a seventy-four on that 6,400-yard par-72 layout.

And, finally, who needs thanking? For sure, Alex, John, and the ever-poised Jennifer, my principal benefactors at golf.com. Have I golfed with a thousand strangers who fed my muse unknowingly? I’d be happy to shake each of your hands again. Guys like Rod and Bruce, Nick and Dave, you continue to make me think fondly about our game. I come from a golfing family: Jay, Scott, Carey, Bob, Gedney, Vernon, Brendan—I’m proud of the way you play. Mom and Dad, I smile seeing us at Harwich Port. Ibidem, Billy Stingray. LouAnne and Troy, well played! Dear Reader, I appreciate your interest. Please proceed to the stories.

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About The Scorecard

Wellington was angry at Finley. The two boys were new

golfers. Both wanted so much to be good players.

The first few holes they played, Wellington sometimes scored lower than Finley. Now though, when Wellie told his score, Finley’s total was always one less. Finley was cheating, Wellington was sure. Why didn’t the stupids teach us about the scorecard, he muttered.

Wellington’s dad had taught the boys about hitting the ball. First he had made some clubs the correct size for his son and Finley. He did this by shortening the shafts on his wife’s old set.

Wellington was a good bit taller than Finley, so the clubs cut for his friend were not right for Wellington. Still, Wellie felt like taking back his mom’s ex-clubs. Then Finley would be sorry he was a cheat.

But who would play with me then? Wellington wondered.

Wellington’s dad had taken them to a wide-open schoolyard for their first lesson. Hold the club like this, he said, laying its grip diagonally across his left palm before wrapping his fingers around. He then showed the boys to grip the club differently with the right hand.

Finley and Wellington were surprised and pleased when his dad proceeded to drop balls for them to smack. They had expected to hear a lot of words before being allowed some fun.

As Finley brought the club over his head he was surprised again. Its heavy head was pulling him forward. Finley stumbled, feeling foolish. Quickly he looked. Was Wellington watching?

Finley was glad to see his friend was swinging now. Splat’! Wellington had only managed to strike the soft ground, inches behind his golf ball. The two looked to the adult, figuring now to hear plenty.

Smiling, Wellington’s dad just motioned for them to try again. This time Finley was slower in his backswing. He kept his balance. When Finley’s clubhead banged into the ball sending it up and straight out he felt thrilled.

Finley hoped Wellington had seen that one. No, his friend was in position to swing, staring down at the golf ball. Finley waited. Wellington kept staring. Bursting to point out how far his shot had gone, Finley could wait no longer. Wellie, swing! he cried.

Wellington’s eyes flashed fierce: I will, I will. With teeth gritting he looked back to the ball and made a hasty chop at it. Wellington gave only a glance to his poor shot rolling off to the right. He stared instead with an accusing face at Finley. Both