By Mick Kemper

I attended the 2002 US Senior Open at Caves Valley Golf Course in Maryland. While standing in a large crowd behind the 11th green, I saw Arnold Palmer and his army round the corner of the fairway. He proceeded to hit his second shot onto the green about 30 feet from the hole.  As he reached the green and surveyed his putt, a spectator yelled, “it’s good, Arnie, pick it up.” 

Short putts are the Bermuda Triangle of golf. Just ask Scott Hoch who missed a 2 foot putt tolose the 1989 Masters. Missing a short putt is like fumbling at the goal line, dropping a pop upfor the final out, or driving across the country to discover Wally World is closed. It is devastating.

Fortunately, amateur golfers have a vaccine for these blown putts, a get out of jail free card, it’scalled a “gimmie”. It works like this. You are standing over a three foot putt to save par. Sweat is running down your back into your Tommy Johns and dread is creeping into your fragile psyche. You are agonizing over the proverbial question, “Do I ease it in or ram it home?” Then suddenlyyou hear those magic words, “That’s good, pick it up.”

Accepting a gimmie is easy. Before your conscience sets in, quickly pick up your ball and slinkoff the green like a shoplifter exiting a convenience store.

On the other hand, conceding a putt is more complicated than judging figure skating. Is the golfer worthy? Is the ball within the so called circle of friendship or just a distant cousin? What is a reasonable distance? An arms-length? A size 12 golf shoe? The height of your average circus midget?  There is no definitive rule. It is an art.

Some guys are generous and hand out gimmies like after dinner mints, sometimes even before the lag putt has stopped rolling. I love these guys. They are the Mother Theresa’s of golf.   

The other mothers of golf are the players who would rather donate a kidney than concede a putt. These are the guys who keep score in ink, who use a pocket calculator to split the lunch tab, and who believe a gimmie is an assault on the integrity of the game. Keep in mind, this is a game typically played by hackers in baggy shorts who have already taken two mulligans and several foot wedges just to survive the front nine. What integrity? 

So, if you struggle with administering a gimmie, here are some helpful guidelines:

Daylight Savings Time
The foursome waiting in the fairway has been watching your group blast from one greenside bunker to another, chunk chips, plumb bob, and debate who putts next. This is more frustratingthan waiting for a senior citizen to back out of a parking space at Walmart or watching Joe Biden trying to complete a sentence. Just grab your balls and get off the green. All putts are good.

Code Blue
Your playing partner is on life support. He has landed in every bunker, splashed in every pond, and bounced off more trees than a squirrel on crack. You cannot bear to see him take another stroke. It is your civic duty to stop the bleeding and administer the Kevorkian gimmie. No range limitations in this case. If his ball is closer to the hole than to Akron Ohio, it’s good. Knock it away before he tries to hit it again.

Nothing at Stake
Pros putt out because they are playing for big money, coveted trophies, and trophy wives. For the average golfer, missing or making a short putt is more meaningless than a cup of decaf coffee or a political campaign promise. Give him the putt. There is no good reason not to.

Reward
The guy has stroked a winding 125 foot putt from just off the green to within three feet of the hole. Reward him. Let him pick it up. He earned it. It is better than watching him lip out, melt down, and try to disembowel himself with his putter.

Human Kindness
Your buddy helps you tune up your car, mows your lawn when you are on vacation, and laughs at all your dumbass jokes. You owe him that testy three footer as a gesture of friendship. It is golf’s version of sending a fruit basket.

No Mercy
If you are embroiled in a highly competitive match and your opponent has been talking smack, there is no such thing as a gimmie. Make him putt every putt. It’s Cobra Kai time, it’s time to sweep the knee.

Retribution
If the player is an obnoxious blowhard, an arrogant know-it-all, a despicable cheat, or a relative of Governor Cuomo, there are no gimmies. The circle of friendship only extends to the rim of the cup.

Gimmies have been prevalent throughout history and occur every day of our lives. The Ruler of Greece once told famed sculptor, Calamitous, that his Venus di Milo statue was so beautiful there was no need to finish the arms. True. A gimmie is when a traffic cop pulls you over and only gives you a warning or when the grocery store clerk honors your expired coupon without price checking your Adult Depends over the store microphone.

However, let the record show that not all gimmies are desirable. Last night, in the middle of a rare but passionate love making session, just as I was about to enter the launch cycle, just as I was pondering the proverbial question, just as I was about to ecstatically self-proclaim “you da man”, my wife stopped me and said, “That’s good, dear, pick it up.”

So, remember, if someone does not graciously accept a gimmie, do not be offended. Understand that sometimes in the game of golf and in life, to derive a full sense of satisfaction, a man needsto hear the rattle of the ball at the bottom of the cup. Sometimes, you just need to putt out.

1—“My left leg is Christmas & my right leg is New Years. Why don’t you come up & see me between the Holidays”

2—“I wouldn’t touch that guy even if he had a 10 foot pole”

3—Fortune Teller: “There will be a tall dark man in your life” Mae: “What, only one?”

4—“A good man is hard to find. A hard man is good to find”

5—“There are 10 men downstairs to see you, Mae!”

“I have a headache….Send one away”

6—“Lead me not into temptation. I know why”

7—Mae to Jail Warden: “I want to see hardened criminals”

8—“Don’t keep a man guessing too long. He’s liable to find the answer somewhere else”

9—“Mae, haven’t you ever been satisfied with one man?” Mae: “Sure I have, lots of times”

10-“Well never mind the 6 feet, let’s talk about the 7 inches.

11-Mae’s 1934 Christmas Card,

Brian lives in San Luis Obispo, California. He was sick of the world, sick of COVID, Trump, the “My Pillow” guy, Russia, China, global warming, street crime, fentanyl, illegal immigrants, racial tensions, and the rest of the disturbing stories that occupy media headlines.

Brian drove his car into his garage and then sealed every doorway and window, as best he could.
He got back into his car, wound down all the windows, selected his favorite radio station, started the car and revved it to a slow idle.

Five days later, a worried neighbor peered through his garage window and saw him in the car. She notified the emergency services, and they broke in, pulling Brian from the car. A little sip of water and, surprisingly, he was in perfect condition, but his Tesla had a dead battery.

Brian is a registered (Pick Your Favorite).

On his death bed they asked him where he wanted to be buried. His answer was, “Surprise me.”

I had forgotten that he lived to be 100, and also didn’t realize it has been 20 years since he died. I Always enjoyed him, his movies, and his show. He touched a lot of lives during his life. Thought you might enjoy a bit of memory touching. Enjoy and recall a neat comedian. For those of you too young to remember Bob Hope, ask your Grandparents and thanks for the memories.

Bob Hope In Heaven With Bing Crosby

A Tribute To All Of The Trips And Presentations Bob Make For Our Troops

I HOPE THIS WILL PUT A SMILE ON YOUR FACE AND IN YOUR HEART. This is a tribute to a man who DID make a difference.

ON TURNING 70
‘I still chase women, but only downhill.’

ON TURNING 80
‘That’s the time of your life when even your birthday suit needs pressing.’

ON TURNING 90
‘You know you’re getting old when the candles cost more than the cake.’

ON TURNING 100
‘I don’t feel old. In fact, I don’t feel anything until noon. Then it’s time for my nap.’

ON GIVING UP HIS EARLY CAREER, BOXING
‘I ruined my hands in the ring. The referee kept stepping on them.’

ON NEVER WINNING AN OSCAR
‘Welcome to the Academy Awards, or as it’s called at my home, ‘Passover.’

ON GOLF
‘Golf is my profession. Show business is just to pay the green fees.’

ON PRESIDENTS
‘I have performed for 12 presidents but entertained only six.’

ON WHY HE CHOSE SHOWBIZ FOR HIS CAREER
‘When I was born, the doctor said to my mother, Congratulations, you have an eight pound ham.’

ON RECEIVING THE CONGRESSIONAL GOLD MEDAL
‘I feel very humble, but I think I have the strength of character to fight it.’

ON HIS FAMILY’S EARLY POVERTY
‘Four of us slept in the one bed. When it got cold, mother threw on another brother.’

ON HIS SIX BROTHERS
‘That’s how I learned to dance. Waiting for the bathroom.’

ON HIS EARLY FAILURES
‘I would not have had anything to eat if it wasn’t for the stuff the audience threw at me.’

ON GOING TO HEAVEN
‘I’ve done benefits for ALL religions.
I’d hate to blow the hereafter on a technicality.’

To the person receiving this, please have the grace to pass it on to others who have not seen the e-mail.

Johnny asks his dad how a country runs. His dad thinks and replies, ‘Well, it’s like this. I earn the money in the house, so I’m the rich. Your mom takes care of running the home, so she is the government. The maid is the working class, and your baby brother is the future. And finally, you Johnny, are the average citizen.’

That night Johnny is woken up by his baby brother’s cries. He goes to the crib and notices that his brother has soiled his diapers. He runs to his mom and finds her fast asleep. He then goes to the maid’s room and finds her in bed with his father. He returns to his bed.

The next day Johnny tells his dad that he has the working of a country all figured out. His dad asks him to explain.

“A country is where an average citizen can’t get proper sleep as the rich are screwing the working class, the government is fast asleep and the future is full of shit,” Johnny explains.