Chip was to play the tee shot. He stood over the ball, swaying. The bell on the far green gave a single, lonely ding .
The designation wasn't a model number or a serial code. It was a dare. A legend whispered in the damp, linseed-oil-scented gloom of the North Berwick Golf Club’s caddie shack. hurleypurley foursome ts07-54 Min
“The ball,” I hissed. “Where’s the ball?” Chip was to play the tee shot
We didn’t finish the round. We picked up the ball, walked back to the clubhouse in silence, and left the niblick and brassie on the first tee. By morning, they were gone. So was the leather rule-sheet. hurleypurley foursome ts07-54 Min