Coming From Behind Ch. 05-06

It landed just to the left of the pin and stopped almost exactly pin high. She was ten feet or a little more from a birdie. It was a brave but precise shot and as I got over my euphoria I could hear the applause and whistles from the gallery around the eighteenth green. She came back to me with a huge smile and maybe a look of relief as well. Again, a high five and this time accompanied by a fist pump. Now the adrenalin was flowing.

"Hell of a shot, girl," I said, breaking my silence.

"Best today. Just when I needed it."

I pulled out her putter and we walked to the green, both of us smiling while Catherine acknowledged the applause. It must have felt fantastic ... win or lose she had played like a champion. Sink this final putt and she would shoot five under for the day and the tournament. More importantly, she would be one up in the clubhouse. Then it would be up to Ms. Caldwell to catch her.

The woman with the long chip off the left side of the green got overly cautious and left her ball ten feet short and just inches from Catherine's marker. That would benefit us, I thought. We would get to see almost the exact line that the ball would track. The other woman made an excellent putt, finishing just inches short of the cup and tapped in for her par. A round of applause was acknowledged and then it was the next opponent's turn.

I stood with Catherine on the left side of the green, anxious to see where this ball would go. My sighting suggested it would break down to the right as much as six inches. I couldn't tell what Catherine was thinking but she was definitely paying attention. The woman stroked her putt and I watched as it followed my imaginary line until it was a foot from the hole when it took an abrupt right turn, missing the cup by several inches as it died. I didn't see that at all. Was that what Catherine could expect?

It couldn't have been too surprising to her. She had played this course many times before and must have encountered that putt more than once. I had to hope she could make the right stroke to get the ball to cooperate and find the cup. It wasn't going to be an easy finish.

Catherine spent more than a minute surveying the line and the green along the path of her ball. No more pebbles to disrupt the roll. No surprises. Just pick the line, stroke the ball and wait for the result. When she finally decided that she had the line she stepped up, checked her alignment, took a couple of final looks at the target, then stroked the putt.

It seemed like ages before the ball reached the cup. It had followed the line her opponent had chosen, but I could see a little more pace on it. If she missed this it might go four or five feet past. Not what you'd want for a finishing putt. But it didn't. It didn't make that abrupt right turn at all, instead it curved a glorious arc and dropped into the left centre of the cup. Birdie! Take that Miranda.

The galley burst into applause, complete with whistles and the odd shout. Catherine had raised her putter as the ball neared the cup and stood on her tiptoes as it dropped. She leaned over and plucked it out, holding it up to the gallery in triumph. He smile was brilliant and the joy on her face was unmistakable. She removed her visor and shook hands with her competitors and their caddies, as did I. When that was finished, she walked to me, handing me the putter and pulling out her scorecard. There was still business to be done, but I could tell by the look on her face the elation she felt.

"Well done, Catherine," I said. "That was a superb round. Your opponent is going to have to go some to steal this away from you. I'm thinking this is a great come-from-behind win."

She grinned and nodded. Her body language spoke of satisfaction and the high of a great performance under pressure. She hadn't bent or shown any sign of weakness all day. She didn't flinch when a tiny pebble cost her a stroke that might still make a difference. Now it was a matter of waiting to see if Miranda Caldwell could match or better her score. There may still be some golf to play.

Catherine disappeared in to the room where the official scorer was stationed and spent a few minutes going over her card to make sure there were no errors. With her attention to detail, I would have been surprised if there were any, but she was being her usual thorough self. When she reappeared, a number of people approached her to talk to her. Some were reporters and some were well-wishers. She handled them all politely, gave a couple of short interviews, emphasizing that the tournament wasn't over yet and anything could happen.

We stood waiting for the final group to appear on the eighteenth tee. The crowd had now surrounded the tee box as well as the left side of the fairway, joining the already large group of spectators at the green. It was quite a sight and it would be intimidating to most people. Professional golfers, however, weren't most people.

When I looked back at the leader board I saw that Ms. Caldwell had posted a par on the seventeenth. I had guessed that since I heard no roar of approval for anything better.

Catherine was standing beside me, intently focused on her opponent's threesome. Hands by her side, silently wondering if she would end up in a tie and have to head for the seventeenth for a playoff.

In an unthinking moment, I took her hand in mine and squeezed it softly. She looked surprised for a moment, then smiled and leaned into me.

"Thank you, Terry. No matter how this turns out you were great these last three days. For a guy who'd never done this before you got everything just right."

"Thank you for the opportunity," I said sincerely. "It was a terrific experience. I won't forget this for a long time. And as far as how this turns out ... I have a feeling it's already decided. But it won't take long to find out."

An eagle to win, a birdie to tie or it was all over for Miranda Caldwell. Ms. Caldwell was about twenty years older than Catherine and had plenty of competitive experience but not on the LPGA tour. She was what Catherine described as a "local legend," someone who had been playing and winning regional tournaments in the Northwest for years.

We watched her drive and it landed in a safe area a little right of center. Catherine had said she tended to fade the ball so she had a good deal more water to deal with on her second shot. All three of that group were in play on the fairway, and as usual Ms. Caldwell was longest. Her opponents both found the green with safe shots, quite some distance from the pin however.

Miranda's shot was good but not great. There would be no eagle for victory and her birdie try would be from something over fifteen feet by my estimation. She would have to sink this putt to tie and that didn't look like an easy task.

"Her putt has two breaks and is pretty quick. She makes this and she deserves to tie," Catherine whispered.

"Not going to happen," I said confidently. She turned to me, smiled and squeezed my hand.

The two women away made their approach putts and put themselves in position for a par. It was Miranda's turn ... do or die. We watched her go through her routine, surveying the line several times before stepping up to the putt. If she had any nervousness she didn't show it. The gallery had gone completely silent and waited for her to make the stroke.

When she did I was holding my breath and unknowingly squeezing Catherine's hand. I watched as the ball rolled through the two small undulations and began its break toward the cup. It had picked up some speed and seemed to be on the right line until it was three feet from the hole when it stopped turning and rolled by the top of the cup, missing by only an inch.

The gasp from the crowd and then the polite applause told the story. Catherine had turned to me and we were hugging each other in relief. She had won. She had come from behind and won, playing brilliantly when it really mattered. We broke and she walked over to Miranda and shook her hand, then chatted with her for a moment. They knew each other well despite the fact that they played at different clubs.

A brief ceremony by the tournament director and the title sponsor, a hardware chain, only confirmed the obvious. Catherine Walston was the 2010 Northern Oregon Open Women's Champion. She was also presented with an oversized check for ten thousand dollars as first prize money along with an attractive trophy that was hers to keep.

When the congratulations and media interviews were done she joined me at the clubhouse patio where I had been waiting for her. Her clubs were in my Audi and I was relaxing, seeing just how much this victory had pleased her. It must have reaffirmed her belief in herself, I thought. I wondered if it would lure her back onto the LPGA tour.

"I owe you a thousand dollars and a huge thank you, Terry. You can't know how much you kept me calm, especially today. I haven't won in so long I'd forgotten what it feels like. We made a great team out there," she enthused.

"I gather the thousand dollars is the normal fee for a caddy ... ten percent?" I asked.

"Yes, and you earned every penny."

"Keep it. I did this for a friend and I can't take anything for it except the enjoyment of watching you play so beautifully."

"I insist!" she said forcefully. "It's part of the tradition you know."

"Tell you what. I'll let you buy dinner tonight. You put that money in the bank. Your new job starts tomorrow."

"What new job?"

"Executive Assistant to the President, Bending Willows Golf Club."

"Are you serious? You don't have the club yet."

"I will by noon hour tomorrow. You'll be there to witness the transaction."

She sat silently, looking at me in amazement. "You aren't kidding are you?"

She was still having trouble believing me.

"No ... I'm not kidding. Your salary will be fifty thousand dollars annually, but there will be bonus opportunities and share options when I set the company up. You will be the first official employee of Bending Willows, LLC."

"This is completely crazy, Terry. We hardly know each other much less whether I'm capable of doing this job you propose. On top of that you don't own the course yet and you're gambling that Fears doesn't have a better offer. What am I supposed to think?"

"You told me you had a degree in business administration and administration is what every business needs. You may not have much real work experience but from what I've seen we can work together and make this happen. We both have a love of the game and we both have the background to help us run a successful business. Now it's just a matter of putting the pieces together and creating something out of what is essentially nothing."

"I don't know, Terry. This seems awfully flighty ... if you don't mind me saying so."

"I'm sure it must seem like that to you, but I've seen empires built from what only seemed like dreams at first. Passion and dedication are required but common sense has to come into the equation as well. Proper financing, a good concept, knowing your market, execution and, I guess to be truthful, a bit of luck. That's the basic formula."

"You want me with you when you see Norman Fears tomorrow?"

"Absolutely. You are part of the management team. You need to know what is going on even though you probably will guess the outcome. Besides, it will be an interesting study in human behavior. I expect Mr. Fears might just come apart at the seams."

"You don't expect violence do you?"

"Hardly likely. He doesn't look like the type to get physical and if he did I can handle him. You won't be in any danger. I won't allow that to happen."

She looked at me for a while before saying, "I need a shower. I'll buy dinner and you can tell me what my responsibilities are going to be. I assume if you do buy the course you will be incorporating it under a new name?"

"Yes. You won't be officially on the payroll until then so your check from today will have to tide you over for a day or two."

She smiled for the first time in a while. "I think I can handle that."

To Be Continued