hands in gestures meant to explain
that that we did not want to read or
buy the newspaper.
It lasted only a few seconds,
ending as quickly and as unexpectedly
as it began. And at the precise
moment when we thought we had
successfully repelled the attack,
when the three urchins turned and
darted down a nearby alley, I realized
my pocket had been picked and my
passport was gone.
***
Standing in line at the US
Embassy I met a Filipino man who
knew nothing about golf, but a lot
about his own country. He was a
doctor, whose medical schooling
in America had been paid for by
the Philippine government on the
condition that he return to serve his
homeland for at least five years.
I asked him about the country’s
drinking water. We had received
numerous warnings. Yes, housing
and over-crowding were serious
issues, but it was the lack of clean
water and poor sanitation leading to
widespread dysentery that was his
country’s biggest problem. I filed
the information away, reminded and
appreciative once again of the quality
of life we enjoy in the United States.
***
Armed with a new, temporary passport that
I kept well hidden for the next five days it was full
immersion, sunrise to sunset at the Championship
site, the Manila Southwoods Golf and Country
Club. Andrea, an engineering student and an
obsessive technician, had been working on hitting
all of his wedge shots at less than 100%, a practice
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I’d learned from Florida’s great coach, Buddy
Alexander. No amount of analysis and discussion
was too much for Andrea, and we spent time before
and after every round on the driving range.
For the Zimbabwe team, who still felt badly
that I’d been mugged by a trio of children, I was
mostly a cheerleader.
In addition to Sergio there were two
CSGA Links // September, 2017 | 7