Funny Guy Friday... or more like Funny Guy Foursome...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
     Several years ago, a local priest, Monsignor Tom Wells, met a very tragic, untimely death. He was a good man who left behind a wonderful family of brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, and a slew of great friends. I met him only a time or two, so I did not know him as well as these folks, but it is very clear that everyone whose life he touched loved the man.
     Every year, his family holds a golf tournament in his honor as a way of raising money for students in need of financial aid for a Catholic education. For the past two years, my good friend Mike has asked me to play in his foursome. I can only assume he is my friend because he asks me to play in his foursome, and I am not a very good golfer.
     If you've never met Mike, he is a twelve-year-old trapped in a seventy-year-old body. On a side note, he is married to one of he nicest women you will ever meet. She is a slightly older version of Cheryl. Always nice... always upbeat... never has a bad word to say about anyone.
     Believe me, it is not easy living with that kind of constant optimism. I feel Mike's pain!
     Mike also invited his son-in-law, Brendan. He, too, has a cheery wife that takes after her mother, which, I am sure, drives Brendan crazy.
     Rounding out our foursome was a young priest from our church, Father Lewis.
     Now I know what you are thinking, how is it possible to play golf with a priest in your foursome. I mean, I believe that there is a line in the Bible that somehow forgives what we affectionately refer to as "sports cussing" on a golf course. I believe it is in the book of Arnie... or Jack.
     Well, I am here to tell you, it was not easy playing with Father Lewis. But there are two ways to look at it: you can cuss like normal and confess it all between holes... or you could get creative with your swearing like you do when your nine-year-old is riding in the car with you.
     C'mon now, don't act like you don't know what I am talking about. You're driving down the road and you realize that you have forgotten the jacket to your suit and you start the bad word but quickly realize your kid is listening in the back seat. You cleverly drag out the first sound of the aforementioned bad word long enough to think of a better alternative.
     Oh shhhhhhugar!
     Does that ring a bell?  I thought so.
     Anyway, I always tell people that don't play a lot of golf that it is silly to get upset when you only play three or four times a year. People play for years and years and still struggle with the game. So my advice is great advice for everyone... except, of course, for me.
     I am the exception to the rule. I should be able to recreate the same swing every time I drive the ball, I should be able to chip within three feet of the pin every time, and I should be able to drain every putt that I take that starts within ten feet of the hole. When I don't, I am allowed to chastise myself, my driver, my irons, my putter, or any other person/thing in my general vicinity.
     Why, you ask?
     The answer is simple... I am me and other people are not, and despite what my mother always told me when I was a kid... the rules don't always apply to me!
     This charity (remember the word charity) tournament was a "best ball" tournament. This means that each member of the foursome hits from the tees and then each golfer in the foursome plays the best tee shot. This continues until the ball makes its way into the hole.
     If you have four great golfers, you will post a very low score. We did not have four great golfers. Mike and Brendan played well. I hit a few good shots here and there. And Father Lewis... well... let's just say... he was our spiritual leader.
    Whenever men get together in a semi-competitive setting, there is bound to be some good-natured  ribbing. I was not sure this would be the case with a priest in the foursome. Honestly, what could be a quicker ticket to hell than trash talking a priest. Brendan had similar concerns... for about four holes. After that, Brendan announced that if Father Lewis left another putt four feet short of the hole, he was fair game.
     When the good Father did leave another putt short... on the fifth hole... Mike and Brendan had seen enough. Father Lewis became Sister Patrick. One would quip, Sister, what Order are you with? after each short putt or they would ask, Do any of the other nuns play golf? And my personal favorite, C'mon Sister... hit the ball! 
     Brendan was especially adept at this verbal banter.
     I thought about this and wondered if he had ever played golf with a priest before or if his religious based barbs just came naturally to him. I am pretty sure they just came naturally to him, and although I do not condone trash-talking a priest, I will say that I was both amused and impressed. Unfortunately, I was driving in the same cart as Brendan, so I worried that when the lightening struck, I was going to be collateral damage.
    Father Lewis took it all with great amusement... but not everyone was in such great spirits.
    On about our ninth hole, we played a drive up the left side of the fairway. Father Lewis' second shot traveled about forty feet short of the green. As we approached the green, unbeknownst to Father Lewis, Mike picked up Father's ball and carried it up to where we were putting. Before we took our putts, Father noted that it was noon and suggested that we pray the Angelus. I was not familiar with this particular prayer and was slightly embarrassed when Mike joined Father Lewis in his recitation... what a show off that guy can be.
     Anyway, this was a first for me, an organized prayer right on the green in the middle of a round. I mean, I suppose I have said a personal prayer to myself on a golf course before... if you count Please God, let this ball go in... just this once Lord! but nothing like this.
     While we were in the middle of our prayer, the foursome behind us hit a tee shot that landed near Father's second shot. After we made our putt...a thirty footer that I sunk for a birdie... confirming that prayer works and that there is, in fact, a God, Father Patrick went to pick up the ball that he thought was his second shot. The foursome behind us screamed and carried on and Father quickly realized his mistake and put the ball back. This is when the fun began.
     The group behind us bypassed their ball and came racing toward our tee box. At this point I had two thoughts. First, these guys were pretty big and pretty upset. This brought on a slight feeling of trepidation. Second, these guys, two of which I remembered from years ago playing baseball against their CATHOLIC high school, are going to feel pretty silly when they discover that the guy they are yelling at is a full blown, bona fide, man of the cloth. This brought on a feeling of amusement.
     They started off by stating that they had a chance to win this CHARITY golf tournament and wondered why Father Lewis would purposely thwart their efforts.
     Now, I had two more thoughts... What do you win? It must be such a great prize that you would beat up a priest to win it... and then, How long into this confrontation before this information was going to be made public knowledge.
     I think it was Mike that let the collar out of the bag.
     Needless to say, our two groups were great pals the rest of the day, and they turned out to be good guys. However, this little altercation also provided Brendan and Mike more fodder for heckling Father Lewis, who, of course, started the fight.
     We finished the tournament at four under par. Not too bad for our group. We did not win any of the super duper prizes that they must have been giving away... but we had a great day. I was very thankful that Mike had asked me to play. And if you are reading this, Mike, I am available next year!
     Cheryl always mentions that God has a plan and everything happens for a reason. Who are we to question Him. I thought a lot about that as I played in this tournament in honor of Monsignor Wells.
Perhaps they will raise money for some kid to go to a Catholic High School... maybe decide to be a priest... and who knows... maybe become a Bishop... a Cardinal... or the maybe even the Pope.
     Who knows?
     Then again, the kid might just grow up only to rough up some priest on a golf course during a charity golf tournament some day.
     Who knows why these things happen... and who are we to question?


**BONUS FGF**  **BONUS FGF**  **BONUS FGF**

     This past week, my lovely wife celebrated her fiftieth birthday. On my fiftieth birthday, she listed the fifty things that she loved about me. I, on the other hand, decided to show my love in a little different way.
     On Cheryl's birthday, I woke up and wished her a happy birthday... and she got up and got the kids ready for school. She was off before I got out of the shower. I saw her for about ten minutes.
     I rushed home from work... because I had to pick up Matthew and get him to his baseball practice. I got changed and rushed out. I saw her for about five minutes. Short visit but I am pretty sure I snuck in a kiss.
     Cheryl came to the field to pick up Matthew to take him to CCD class. I had to stay and coach some more. Saw her for about two minutes. She looked good.
     I left practice and hurried to meet Cheryl and the kids at her mom's house. Cheryl was not there... she had left to go pick up Matthew from CCD.
     Cheryl returned to her parents' and we had cake and ice cream. I left before she did to go to the store. Thirty minutes.
     Got home and Cheryl opened her gifts. I was pretty tired, so I went to bed immediately after the big gift exchange... thirteen minutes.

     If you are keeping score, I showed my love for Cheryl by seeing her for a total of fifty minutes on her fiftieth birthday. This is our life together. I love every minute of it.
     Happy Birthday honey.
     I love you.