Loopy by Dan Binchy Read Free Book Online Page B

before Tim could say anything, O’Hara murmured gently, “Go on. Try again. This time, remember what you did the last time and swing easy. ”
    This time Larry made a good connection. Clubhead struck ball with a resounding click. Like the seventy he had taken in Sunday’s match, the ball seemed to hang in the air forever. The only difference was that this time the sky was blue and the wind was blowing directly into his face. He remembered not to look up as he hit the ball, but when he eventually did, he saw that the two men were following the flight of the ball in stunned silence. Still airborne, it disappeared over the corner of the graveyard.
    Tim was first to speak, in a strained voice. “I-I-I’m not absolutely certain, but I think it carried the second wall.”
    O’Hara took the club from Larry before muttering, as if to himself, “If it did, it’s more than likely on the green.”
    As the trio walked down one side of the ravine and made the steep climb up the other, Tim Porter confided to Larry, “That is the longest drive I have ever seen. Quite honestly, I wouldn’t have believed it was possible unless I had seen it with my own eyes.”
    The effort of descending, then moments later climbing back up the steep path leading out of the ravine, reduced all three to silence. Larry felt the weight of the bag for the first time that day, and it caused him to limp even more. If either of the two golfers noticed this, they made no reference to it. Having reached the top and walked along the fairway, they still could not see where Larry’s ball had finished because the first of two stone walls that formed the corner of the graveyard cutting into the fairway obscured their view of the green. Tim, ignoring his own ball and O’Hara’s effort even farther back toward the tee, strode purposefully to a spot from where he could get a proper look.
    He called back to the other two trailing in his wake, “I think I see something on the green, but I’ll walk on a bit to get a better look.” He strode briskly right up to the front of the green. “He’s on all right—about ten feet from the hole!”
    This ten feet was, of itself, significant because the flagstick was at least another twenty yards farther back in the green, making Larry’s drive even farther than Joe Delany’s effort all those years ago. Furthermore today’s drive was into a stiff breeze—a point not lost on the other two.
    After further oohing and aahing, O’Hara lifted the ball off the green and handed it to Larry. “Keep this for the rest of your life because there’s only one first time for anything.”
    Tim protested loudly that Larry should have been allowed to hole the putt, but his playing partner would have none of it, explaining, “Larry doesn’t know how to putt yet. Believe it or not, that’s only the second time he has ever hit a golf ball. The rest of the game is still ahead of him, including how to putt.”
    Tim nodded, still thunderstruck by what he had just witnessed. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right if that’s the case. Still, it’s a new record, duly witnessed by two playing members. Wonder what Joe Delany will say to this?”
    O’Hara chuckled. “The first thing he will do, I expect, will be to try to get that loop out of Larry’s swing.”
    Tim was less certain about this. He asked Larry, “Where does that loop at the top of your swing come from?”
    â€œDunno, sir. I take the frees for the Trabane Gaels, so maybe it’s a hurling swing or something.”
    O’Hara slapped his thigh in excitement. “That’s it,” he cried, “the bloody GAA have a lot to answer for, by God. That’s where the loop comes from all right. They nearly killed the lad last Sunday, by the way.”
    Again it was Tim’s turn to be surprised at the many facets to the young