The rudeness of the cold winds of November, for all intents and purposes, brings to the end my 39th golf season. A season, that will be remembered as the last one of playing golf with John Kaposta.
The legendary Kaposta, a winner of prestigious golf tournaments spanning large parts of four decades, may have the ultimate tools for the most difficult of all games: a smooth graceful, arcing swing that belts out 300 yard drives, a precision iron game, a world class status from the bunkers, and a velvet putting touch that surrounds the greens with Montavanni music.
But, he'll have to enjoy his talents without me next season, because I hearbye announce, Hear ye! Hear ye! my days of playing golf with John Kaposta are over....forever!!
Would you, or could you, bear four decades of mulligans that never show up on the scorecard, or
3 foot 'gimme' putts when the cash is on the line?
Would you want play with a guy who is the Mother-of-all-excuse- makers, who displays a nasty and vile temper, abuses his equipment, urinates on the trees, and uses profanity in the presence of the ladies and their children?
Who stands forever frozen, like a tragic figure in disbelief, when he hits a bad shot?
Would you want to play golf with a guy that always manages to jingle the change in his pocket while you are are putting, or coughs during your backswing, never buys drinks and always has to be goaded to pay up the wagers?
Now, would you want to play golf with a guy like that again?
Neither does John Kaposta.
