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Congratulations to the 1998 SMIGT Champion, Wilbur!
And to the other players in the championship flight:
The Red Shark
Maddens Participants- Once again a memorable time was had by all and I'd like
to thank all the participants for making this a "grande" event. Hats off to
Wilbur with that fantastic 72 in the championship round. As the Professor would
say, "I can't win but I'll give it my best"!!! No truer words have ever been
spoken, especially on Sunday. We were all playing for second place after about
3 or 4 holes with Wilbur chewing the flag off and putting lights out on the
greens!! Magnificent Will!! I felt very fortunate edging the Professor out for
second place, not many times anyone gets by the Magician of Golf!! Darth's game
was off some in the finals, I assumed that old Grand Dad just wasn't able to
give him the normal kick that he is used to with just the paltry "8" drink
limit in force!!! Halvorhooter tried to keep up with the Big Boys and did
rather well for a while but ultimately fell into the Wilbur golf trap of "try
and keep up to me boys" if you can. Again, thanks for the fun and memories and
a special thanks to the newcomers Col. Parker, Commander, Gentle Ben, and Cool
Whip for joining us and adding to the festivities!!
This past year's event got off to a most adventurous start with Petey's van
"giving out" in Brainerd! No sooner had I stated that the old girl certainly
had been holding up well for the Madden's trek, than she started sputtering and
hissing and gave out as we cruised/glided into the hardware store parking lot.
After master mechanics, Brothers Petey and Pee Wee tinkered with the aged
engine for a few minutes, it was becoming apparent that the upcoming tee time
was indeed in jeopardy. In the 14 years of the S.M.I.G.T., the group had never
been late for the opening ceremony. It was especially critical because of the
fact that three of the board members were in Petey's van, including the CFO
(Petey), President (Howie) and Chairman and CEO (yours truly)!! The pressure
began to mount (yes, Paul, that pressure too) as everyone fidgeted, wondering
what to do.
And then it happened! Out of nowhere came the potential savior of all saviors!
The infamous, always thirsty, whirling dervish himself, DARTH!!!! Of course, he
didn't see us, so with Howie chasing the rather non-petite driver of the rather
petite 318 BMW convertible and screaming, "Darth! Darth!," the "portly one"
proceeded to accelerate away from the semaphore at a sharp rate. And then a
really unbelievable thing happened (it had to be divine intervention from
BINGO, rest his soul), Darth slowed down as his head somehow got turned around
in that petite car and spotted Howie, panting and screaming! The next thing we
knew, Darth was pulling into the parking lot next to Petey's van. What relief,
what luck! Our prayers had been answered, we thought. We could now make our tee
time, what a relief. Wrong! There was one small problem. How were we all going
to get into this somewhat petite 318 BMW convertible. With the cumulative
weight of the previously mentioned three board members at 650 lbs., add in the
weight of Cool Whip at 190 lbs. and then the "reduced from his former self"
weight of Darth at 360 lbs., that all adds up to approximately: 1,200 BIG
ONES!! Not to mention the cumulative height of all at roughly, 370 inches or
31 feet. We weren't out of the woods yet! But it is just phenomenal how
brilliant people come up with brilliant ideas, or so we thought. After much
discussion, some raised voices and a good amount of negotiation, we proceeded
to assemble the bodies one by one into the by then infamous BMW. First Cool
Whip got into the back seat driver's side. That was no problem, so far so good.
Then Howie embarked on entering the back seat passenger side, again no problem.
At that point the S.M.I.G.T. Chairman and CEO had a brilliant idea (needing to
exhibit his brilliance, because of his CEO status, to the rest of the
S.M.I.G.T. participants), he directed Petey to enter the already "stuffed"
back seat in the middle of Howie and Cool Whip. Being the younger and less wise
of the Serie brothers, Petey proceeded into the middle of the back seat per
older brother's direction. Well, that turned out to be a big mistake. More on
Now we were making progress, only Darth and Pee Wee to go, along with five sets
of golf clubs, two coolers, one case of OLD "CROAK," Bingo's burial
paraphernalia, as well as miscellaneous mix (one or two cans) and other sundry
Pee Wee then directed Darth to enter the driver's seat at this own risk (which
was great), which he somehow accomplished. (Let me tell you, you could not have
squeezed the most minute hair between his belly and the steering wheel. Only
one to go, Pee Wee.
I gathered strength and breath along with the rest of the clubs and gingerly
proceeded to "fit" myself in the front seat next to Darth. I made it, we were
all in! But wait, Darth still had to be able to move his arm and hand (what
girth in those paws) to reach the ignition. Meanwhile I heard not a peep out
of the back seat. I assumed they were all so relieved that we were going to
make our tee time that they were savoring the moment in silence. Wrong, they
couldn't move, let along talk. It appeared that they were all breathing and
did have pulses, so we proceeded, and oh did we proceed!! I found out later
that the S.M.I.G.T. participants in the back seat did indeed have pulses when
I heard one shout, "SLOW DOWN, GOD DAMMIT, DARTH!" You see, in Darth's haste
to get to our 1:15 p.m. tee time, he lost track of his speed. Last time I
glanced over at the speedometer, it was at 90 MPH as we pulled back into our
lane after passing and 18-wheeler, a bait truck and five cars! Wow, what a
rush, and I knew then that they were still alive in the back seat as I
distinctly smelled something rancid coming from the trousers of one of
As we pulled into the Madden's parking lot, roughly one minute before our tee
time, we were all genuinely relieved that we had made it, but more importantly,
that we were all still alive. But wait, it wasn't over yet. The next thing we
faced was; "how the hell do we get out of this thing?" Well, as we had loaded
so gingerly, so did we need to unload. First, I proceeded to disembark with
the one set of golf clubs, one cooler and miscellaneous sundry items. Then
Darth pried himself out from behind the driver's wheel, as the infamous BMW
instantly raised up 6-8 inches!! Then the real challenge, the back seat! I had
heard nothing from the usually vocal Howie the entire ride from Brainerd.
Little did I know that Petey had wedged himself between Howie and Cool Whip in
such a way that he had pinched a nerve in Howie's shoulder to the extent that
he had to withdraw from the tourney Sunday night. Evidently, it had affected
his vocal cords as well! Howie did proceed to exit the back seat, followed
carefully by Petey and Cool Whip. The infamous "Darth" had saved us. We all
rejoiced and proceeded to the first tee where we were met by applause and
cheers and Colonel Parker with a big "knot" on his head! Never mind, that's another story.
"Large Al" vs. "Darth:
Monday A.M. dawned, a beautiful day at the "Classic" for the S.M.I.G.T.
participants. There were indeed some interesting matches but one stands out
more than the others: Darth vs. Large Al!
The match started without much fanfare and rather uneventful, but that would
change in a hurry. With the normal bantering back and forth between the "Big
Fellow" and "Large" they proceeded to advance to the 16 hole where "Large"
calmly holed out a 120 yard "Eaglet" shot. That's right, a three on the par 5!
At that point, Darth's eyes started to re-open (they were gradually closing as
the match progressed and the "Old Croak" bottle got ever so empty). "Large Man"
was still down in the match as he headed to the 17th hole, but he had
drinks-in-hand (specifically whiskey Cokes) as he proceeded to pour himself a
"quintuplet shot." As Darth watched with much interest (I'm sure to verify it
really was a quintuplet), Al proceeded to consume the entire drink on the 17th
The 17th is a very intriguing par three, 148 yard, downhill hole with a lake in
front and bunkers everywhere! Al gingerly walked to the tee and rather boldly
proceeded to "airmail" his 8-iron into the back bunker. (At this point his
group was thinking: was it the Windsor Cokes or just a bad shot? The question
was soon to be answered!) His ball plunged deeply into one of the back bunkers,
while Darth's landed short and rolled back into the lake. (The event was also
being viewed by two course employees with much interest, I may add.)
Al proceeded to the green and advanced into the bunker with his normal delicate
demeanor (the Windsor's were definitely "taking hold" at this point). He then
took a mighty "slash" at the ball and to most everyone's surprise including
Al's, the ball failed to clear the bunker edge and rather, fell back into the
huge crater that Large Al had just created with one of those large golf shoes.
At that point, Al is getting just a bit "hot" as he glances over to Darth and
sees him with a half smirk on his face. Al then proceeds to take another mighty
slash, sand flying everywhere, golfers ducking, but to everyone's surprise
again, the ball stays in the trap. At that point the rest of the foursome, as
well as the "workers," start to amble away from the Large Man knowing what
damage could be done by a man of his size, with a sand wedge in his hand and a
dozen "Windsor's" in his stomach! Al finally gets out with his 4th shot!
Meanwhile, Darth has taken his drop and managed to get down in 5, so Al looses
the hole but he only needs to halve #18 to win the match.
On the 18th tee Darth hits a perfect drive after a "Whirling Dervish" swing. Al
is a little "wobbly" due to his usage of his entire drink allotment in the last
15 minutes, and proceeds to "swing hard in case I hit it." Well, the strategy
doesn't work! Al's tee shot travels some 80 yards into a gulch on the right.
Now he's got a stance in the deep weeds, his left leg bent 90°, his right foot
some 18 inches below his left and a 3-wood in his hands. I mean come on! Even
if he were sober, he would have a hard time making that shot! Anyway, I guess
it must have been "divine intervention" from BINGO, but he somehow hits a
beautiful shot right up the hill and down the middle! (Even though he doesn't
remember the shot later, his playing partners said it was a "BUTE!")
Meanwhile, Darth proceeds to the green, as does Al. Darth finally hits his
putt, after a lengthy discussion/argument about "going to school" on your
opponent, and it goes in! Al, then a little more than mildly wobbly hits his 7
footer and just misses. GAME-SET-MATCH-DARTH! Being not quite as sober and
gentlemanly as he usually is, Al stomps off the green and says "good match,
Darth," as he sticks the business end of his putter 6 inches deep into the
fringe of #18.
(Al can later be seen on the West Course, barefoot, ketchup and mustard
clinging to his lower lip and participating in the Scramble.)
I guess the real moral to the story is: "if you really want to beat Darth,
drink more" and "if you want the putter to go in the ground more than 6, swing
No truer words have been spoken!
Wilbur's "72" in the championship flight. Good shootin' Wilbur.
Large Al playing Tom Sawyer (bare feet and all) on the West Course Scramble.
(Do you remember anything, Large Al?)
A bigger problem: Al eating all the hot dogs at the West Course? All that was
left was a "hen-way"?
Joeeel not looking much better this year at the Classic on Monday A.M. How was
the afternoon round Joeeel? Must be that Madden's "ICE,"right?"
We missed your infamous "HEMP ROPE" CAPER PETEY!!!!
Petey's infamous 5-iron shot on Bingo's grave, #4 East, where he toenailed it
through the shed behind the green. The ground's crew found the ball in the
shed! It had some crazy logo on it like "Navy Programs"??? What the Hell?
Cool Whip's "money" run in with "Joeeel."
Joeeel's run in with everyone else Sunday night!! Bad ice??
COL Parker's taste of the infamous Torture Chamber at headquarters.
Jaws and Halvorhooters new roommates; that they never met!!!
COL Parker's infamous "Header." (Bring your saw this year COL.)
Petey's always appropriate stories at dinner. (Keep current on the Heimlich
Darth's "withdrawal" symptoms with the "paltry" 8-drink limit. (The
three-fingers are supposed to be horizontal, not vertical, Darth.)
Minimum damage on the West Course during "childish game" of Loosen the Bags!
That is so childish, Paul!
The always "friendly" poker games around 1:00 a.m. when no one remembers the
next day what was done or said!!
The True Beauty of the Classic!
If you don't like a life like this, you shouldn't have one!!
Dave (Pee Wee) Serie
Chairman and CEO, S.M.I.G.T.