The Duffer

President...

Teddy Roosevelt has been in the news a great deal lately in my part of the world.  The Washington Nationals, the team with the best record in the National League in 2012, entertain the (sometimes substantial) crowd in the fourth inning with a President’s Race (inspired by the Sausage Race in Milwaukee, -- less so by the Pittsburgh Pirates’ Great Pierogi Race --  who knew?)  The four mascot Presidents in the race are the presidents on Mt. Rushmore, Washington, Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt (c’mon, history and Americana buffs, fill in the fourth.)  The first live race was held on July 21, 2006.  Since that time, the Rough Rider had lost every race – mostly through a series of comical adventures and errors during the race, to the consternation of many Nationals’ fans who, after several years of frustration, were rooting feverishly for Teddy to win.  In fact, Teddy losing his races had become a running joke in Washington (ba-dum-bum).  On October 3, the final day of the 2012 regular season, Teddy finally won his first race, breaking a 525-race losing streak.

Competitor...

Perhaps the least famous or recognizable president of the four Rushmores in the race (all right, Jefferson is the fourth) and arguably the least accomplished, Roosevelt is known most famously for his competitive spirit.  As a soldier, Lieutenant Colonel Roosevelt led his Rough Riders in a famous charge up San Juan Hill, Cuba, during the Spanish–American War on July 1, 1898.  His gallant charge resulted in Teddy being awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously for his bravery on January 16, 2001. 

War hero...

As a sportsman, Roosevelt hunted often, travelling all over the world for his sport. His greatest accomplishment as president was as a conservationist. He established five national parks, doubling the total number of existing national parks in America.  According to National Geographic, the area of the United States placed under public protection by Theodore Roosevelt, as National Parks, National Forests, game and bird preserves, and other federal reservations, was brought to a total of approximately 230,000,000 acres during his presidency.

Environmentalist...

Teddy and the Washington Nationals also engaged in  harmonic convergence  during the Nat’s pennant chase at the end of the season.  After the Washington Nationals went down 2-1 to the Cardinals in the playoffs, veteran Mark DeRosa of the Nats decided to inspire his teammates (even though he was not on the playoff roster.)   So he gathered his teammates around in the pre-game locker room and instead of using his own words, read a portion of Teddy Roosevelt’s great speech “Citizenship in a Republic," delivered at the Sorbonne in Paris on April 23, 1910, known as “The Man In The Arena”.  If you are not familiar with it, the inspirational words go like this:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

Apparently DeRosa interspersed these great words, as professional athletes are wont to do, with an occasional F-bomb for further emphasis (all right, perhaps with many F-bombs).   While I’m not entirely sure extra emphasis was needed, the history books will record that the Nats won one of the great games in playoff history that night, with Jayson Werth hitting a bomb of another sort in the bottom of the ninth to raise even the cold and timid souls in the Washington area to great heights, if only for an evening. 

American Icon

Golfers, no timid souls they, know what it’s like to be in the arena, to hack their way through a difficult round, faces marred by divots and sweat and all terrain herbal armor.  Sometimes, as you, The Duffer, approach the end of a round, strokes piled up over a hundred, balls flying everywhere, miles walked in search of errant shots, you feel like quitting.  But you won't, you don't, because it’s just not in you.  You are a warrior – weekend,  but a warrior -- fit as a Bull Moose, and as you walk softly to the 18^th tee and pull out the big stick  and drive your ball into the woods on the 18th fairway a la Philly Mick at Winged Foot, and wade into the jungle after it, and stand over the shot in the small clearing, backswing blocked by decidedly deciduous obstacles,  summoning all your strength and resolve for one last shot, imploring the golf gods for their favor just one last time, a Paul Simon tune comes to mind and inspires you to swing hard, keep your head down, finish strong and anticipate next weekend’s foray back into the arena.  Bully for you!

BOXER

Composer:  Paul Simon

Publisher:  Paul Simon Music

THE DUFFER

I just want a po' boy

and a beer now nice and cold

I have squandered my large green fees

Four sleeves full of new balls. Such are promises

All lies and jests

Still a man scores what he wants to score

And misremembers the rest.

When I left my home

for the golf course

I was no more than a boy

In the company of hustlers

In the quiet of the clubhouse building

Swinging scared,

hitting low,

Seeking out the wooded quarters

Where the ragged tee shots go

Looking for the places

Only poor shots go

Lie la lie ...

Improve your lie ...

Asking only dollar Nassua's

I come looking for a game,

But I get no offers,

Just a come‑on from high rollers

On the seventh tee

I do declare,

There were times when I was so lonesome

I took some losses there.

Lie la lie ...

Then I'm laying out my pink plus fours

And wishing I was gone,

Going home

Where the Haines Point CC hustlers

Aren't bleeding me,

cleaning me,

Going home.

In the deep stuff stands a duffer,

And a hacker by his trade

And he carries the reminders

Of ev'ry shot that went awry

And beat him till he cried out

In his anger at his game,

"My weight's shifting, my weight's shifting”

But the duffer still remains

Lie‑la‑lie...

_AMDG^TM

© 2012 R.E. Kelly