Last week I invited my new friend Rick Sha, a self professed "normal guy," to go down to MA and play in a small tournament at a couple swank private courses with some old college friends. Before I invited him I double checked the weather forecast to make sure it was going to be warm and sunny as I know he doesn't own any rain gear.

I picked Rick up shortly after 5:00 AM and was surprised to see he had not one, but two coolers full of domestic beer and another cooler stocked with jello shots. He also seemed to be sipping a coffee spiked with Allen's Coffee Brandy. For a guy in his 70's, Sha sure knew how to roll. He explained that he viewed the day not so much as a golf tournament but as a party that happened to take place on the links and that the jello was his way around the signs that said "No Alcoholic Beverages Allowed On The Course." I sensed we were going to get along just fine.

We arrived at the first course shortly after 7:00 and he immediately joined in the verbal abuse that passes for friendship with the boys from MA. Even his broken, and by now slightly slurred, English proved not to be a barrier. He fit right in.

Once all the side bets were in place we were off and running. Sha struggled a little early but finally got the driver going and contributed with some big pars. On #9, after launching a bomb that ended up in the first fairway and unable to see the green because of some trees, Sha ignored our yells that there was still a group putting out and drilled a 9 iron that nearly decapitated a guy putting for birdie. We were still giving him a hard time when he calmly knocked in the putt for a net eagle. Partner!

On the next tee he sought out the guy he almost killed and apologized profusely. The guy was clearly pissed but Sha's sincere apologetic manner and a jello shot eventually won the guy over. It was a very touching diplomatic moment. Maybe Bush needs to look into the power of jello.

At #11, a sprawling par 5, Sha asked the member we were playing with how far it was to the stream that cut across the fairway some 300 yards out. The member scoffed and said not to worry about it. Sha then proceeded to blow his drive right into it. While I'm sure he was upset about dropping a stroke, he seemed quite proud of the prodigious blast and who could blame him. That bomb seemed to awaken his game and he went on a tear that culminated with him jarring a monster putt for birdie on #18. Another eagle for team Maine.

After lunch we headed for the second course and Sha continued to stripe it even though his balance seemed a little shaky. When the host brought out margaritas I assumed Rick was done for and we all kept an eye on him but, amazingly, he actually seemed to play better. We finished the round in great spirits and feeling that we had a chance to finish in the money.

In the clubhouse, as we waited for the final tally, Sha scoffed down gin and tonics once he found out they were on the house and I could see him deteriorating rapidly. I don't think he had much to eat and a long day in the hot sun had to be wearing on him. Finally, the scores were posted and we claimed our second place winnings. Handshakes, one last round of verbal jousting and we were off. I couldn't have been prouder of Rick. Well, at least until he threw up in the car. Partner!

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