Missing Links
I first played golf regularly at a municipal course that had seen better days.
Once it was the area’s premier private club. Then the members moved further out of town, to a bigger place. The county government took over the old club, and proceeded to mangle it.
In addition to the lumpy greens and brown fairways, the place also had a certain quiet fame as the location of the longest-running dice game in town. Gentlemen (Geezers, actually) who enjoyed cheap cigars and gin rummy also had a place by the hot dog stand they could call their own.
Even though it was a bit of a dump, it was a fun place to learn how to play.
Missing Links brought back those fond memories. Rick Reilly, a Sports Illustrated writer, honors the peculiar charms of municipal golf and the golfers who play them, with a funny redemption story about some fairly screwed up characters.
Raymond Hart, the “hero,” is a young guy who has: (1) a 2 handicap, (2) big-time problems with his dad, (3) dreams of the Tour, (4) a serious commitment problem with women, and (5) some equally challenged friends.
For money he writes book reviews (!), so obviously he’s also a smart guy that just needs to grow up.
On the other hand, his friends really are friends, in the guy sort of way. Ingenious bets, major gamesmanship during rounds at a truly awful dog track, and verbal taunts fill their days. The problems start when they catch a forbidden glimpse of the exclusive private club next door.
Reilly’s descriptions of the snooty members are cruel, but not much more exaggerated than his collection of hackers whose lives revolve around their own, nasty little course.
Things go downhill for the gang for a while when they make a major bet over which of them will first complete a round on the private club. On the way, however, there are some very funny moments.
Reilly uses some terms I’ve certainly heard (and used) during a round. One character is noted for having a Roberto Duran touch around the greens (“hands of stone”). In addition, some of the winning tactics used during the rounds described in this book could get a person shot in some places, but Reilly’s prose makes them just this side of believable.
They are also a scream.
Despite some very serious and sad parts, there are happy endings just the same, although not necessarily the ones you’d think would occur. It actually would make a pretty good golf movie (R rating, obviously).
Let’s hope this is not the only funny golf novel Reilly has in him.
Review Date: August 28, 1998