My dear friend and colleague Hank Gola of the Daily News – by far and away the best golf writer of all the greater-NYC papers combined – went to Venezuala for vacation. Here is his laugh-out-loud assessment.
From the article:
“I asked the caddy master if it was going to rain all day.
“Media hora,” he told me, which means half an hour. It let up 20 minutes later.
My 610 Bolivars (about $90) covered the greens fee, rental clubs and, because I am not fat and lazy, a pull cart. The caddie master brought out a set of 15-year-old Cobra woods and irons in a well-worn black golf bag.
“Perfecto,” I told him. Then it started pouring again.
Already committed, I set off as soon as the first ray of sun appeared, and as I passed a group of workers huddled in a shelter, I shouted to them: “Soy loco.” They laughed. They knew.
I was not the only person on the course. Two shirtless men were making the turn as I headed for the first tee. That was encouraging. I started my backswing with the Cobra driver and sent it down the fairway. At least I think it was the fairway.
Let’s just say I played lift, clean and place on the fairways because they were largely indistinguishable from the rough. The bunkers were mostly overgrown and the spongy greens were running about five on the Stimp (cinco on the Stimpo). My first putt got halfway to the hole. On the seventh green, I had an ant hill in my line. I assume they were red ants placed there by El Presidente. Obviously, my 610 Bolivars weren’t going to go toward the maintenance of the course.”
Okay so one golf course in the whole country and it’s in bad condition? Check. Country with hatred of Americans and little to offer in tourism? Check. Nutjob freedom-squashing tyrannical dictator in power? Check. Golf hating wife in tow? Check.
And then he played in the rain? The taco vendors were right, Hank, soy loco…loco-er than even me.
Soy loco: sounds like a bad brand name for an organic health drink.
