Arnie on 7th at Bob o'' Link. Photo Rick Phillips

Advising Jack and Arnie

Excerpt from Cucamonga Pete - Ch. 15 (cont'd)

Arnie at Bob o' Link - pic by Rick Phillips

Arnold Palmer on 8th tee, Bob o' Link. Photo: Rick Phillips

Arnold Palmer on 7th hole, Bob o' Link. Carl Carani caddie.

...Later that morning, Pete is telling a story to an intrigued coterie of caddies who are oblivious to the Cucamonga bullshit progressively rising above their ankles.

Pete explains how his friend Angelo Argea, Jack Nicklaus’ famed caddie, once asked him to take over for a weekend.

"So, at first, Jack was a little nervous with me on his bag," he tells the caddie crowd. "Angelo already told him I was the best caddie in the northern hemisphere, but Jack was apprehensive, nonetheless."

"You caddied for Jack Nicklaus!" exclaims Murf. "Where?"

"Palm Springs," answers Cucamonga.

"That’s a dream loop, Pete! You didn’t fuck it up, did you?" asks Monkey.

"Come on, I was awesome," boasts Pete. "By the time we made the turn, Jack loved me. On the fourth hole, I talked him out of hitting a three-wood, and suggested he knock down his famous one-iron and run it up the green.

"So, he says to me, ‘You better be right, Cucamonga,’ and he tattoos the one-iron, which runs for 50 yards, right between the traps, up the incline, over the fringe, and all the way to the back of the green, 12 feet from the pin."

"What’d he say?" asks Hippo.

"Jack says to me, ‘from now on, I listen to you’."

"Get the fuck out! Are you shitting us?" says The Head.

"I’m telling you. The rest of the weekend, no matter what I said, he did."

The caddies have their mouths agape, thinking Pete is a looping god.

"What else did you tell him, Pete?" asks Red, who just turned the corner of the caddy shack and came up on Pete’s blindside.

"Well," Pete pauses a few seconds. "Oh, yeah, I told Jack that he needs to stop smoking."

"Whhh-aaaatt!! YOU told Jack Nicklaus to stop smoking? That’s crapola!" suggests The Orchid.

"Whatta ya mean?" asks Pete right back. "You don’t see him smoking now, do you? I told him to quit; the lack of oxygen was slowing up his downswing."

"What brand of cigarettes did he smoke," asked Fireball, as if he’d know the difference.

"How the hell do I know?" responds Pete. "I didn’t say I lit his cigarettes!"

"Hey, Pete, tell these guys about your argument with Arnold Palmer," suggests DeMick, who was listening in from the service window.

"Arnold Palmer? You got into an argument with Arnie? Who argues with Arnold Palmer?" sing out the caddies, questioning the behavior rather than the truth of it all.

Pete tries to downplay the story slightly to maintain some semblance of verisimilitude.

"Well, it wasn’t really an argument per se. Arnie is insisting that I shouldn’t contradict him about hitting an 8- iron on a 195-yard par three since I’ve only caddied for him on three holes at the time. Still, I insist he hit a 7-iron, considering the wind and the elevated green."

"Yeah, and?" asks Hippo.

"Yeah, and what happened then?" asks Red, feigning excitement and belief.

"So, Palmer, he’s very stubborn, you know? He won’t let go of the eight-iron. So, I tell him, this is why you lost the U.S. Open in 1969. You don’t listen to your caddie."

"Holy Christ! You talked to Arnie like that?" says Monkey.

"Hey, Cucamonga. I thought Arnie was your all-time hero," pipes up Red.

"So, Arnie’s pissed, and he’s about to take a poke at me. But instead, he grabs the seven-iron from my hand. He tees up the ball, and takes an angry practice swing. He then addresses the ball, and unleashes his famously wild, whirling dervish swing."

"What? What? What’d he do? What happened?" the caddies chorused.

"Arnie hit it a mile high and the wind grabbed it a little, and it’s sailing deep toward the back of the green. Looks like it might hit the fringe in the back, but it comes down quick and drops right in the cup — on the fly!"

"Hole in one?! Hole in one! Are you shitting me?" asks Murf.

"Right in the hole. An ace!" exclaims Pete. "Hard to believe, huh?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah, very hard to believe, Pete," says Red.

Hippo and others jump up in the air and dance around as if they just watched the hole-in-one themselves.

"So how did Arnie react?" wonders Tara.

"So, Arnie shows no emotion, and I look at him expressionless. The other golfers and caddies in our foursome are jubilant while Arnie and I stare at each other in a no blink contest. Finally, I say, ‘Well, how ‘bout it?’"

"You say that to Arnold Palmer? That’s kind of asshole-y, isn’t it, Pete?" notes L.C.

"Well, yeah, on the surface it would be," figures Pete. "But I was teasing him at that point, and he said, ‘If it didn’t hit the pin and do a dead drop, the ball would have been 30 yards down the back of the green.’ So, I said, but it went in the hole, and that’s the whole point."

Pete continues to say that the entire foursome stopped playing and went to the clubhouse to celebrate Palmer’s hole-in-one with drinks. Arnie invited Pete to sit next to him at the bar.

Pete says that’s where something extraordinary happened.

"So, at the bar, Arnie orders a scotch on the rocks, and I ask for my special, non-alcoholic drink, a lemonade mixed with iced tea over ice. Arnie asks me what kind of a drink is that.

"I tell him to take a sip, it’s refreshing.

So, Palmer takes a swig. Then another swig. Then he asks the bartender to make him one. He drank three of them that day, and so did I. Next thing you know, it became his favorite drink."

Rooster exclaims, "Oh my God, that’s an Arnold Palmer! Iced tea and lemonade!"

Pete interrupts, "Well, that name came later. At first, Arnie would tell bartenders to just give him a Cucamonga."

That final, fanciful braggadocio was more than Red could contain, forcing him to burst into hysterical laughter. But the other caddies are so regaled by the story, they can’t even begin to question the plausibility of Pete’s yarn.