[Ed. note: since this year’s Goodboys Exec-Comm has been (for lack of a better term) a little late in revealing its plans for the 2014 Goodboys Invitational weekend, Goodboys Nation weblog sent a reporter (let’s call him “Woodward”) with serious connections in search of the truth (which, after all, is out there). In the spirit of “All The President’s Men” (yours truly’s all-time favorite flick), we have the scoop right here on Goodboys Nation weblog.]
This year’s Goodboys Invitational weekend.
You’ll get no information from me on that.
All I’m looking for is who the teams are and where we are going to play.
And you think I’m going to break trust and tell you what I know? You’ve got the wrong train, pal. Find another track.
But you do know, don’t you? And you could tell me, correct?
Well, the fact is that I do know, but if you know then you would know what I know and what I know you would then tell others what you know when right now the only one who knows is me and if you know what I know then what I know you would then know even though right now you can’t know because no one who knows has told what they know to you who doesn’t know.
The Goodboys universe has always been tight-lipped about these kinds of things. I was at a party once with Jay “Crusher” Spielberg – a two-time winner of the Goodboys Invitational, BTW – and he held his putter over an open flame for five minutes until the shaft melted into ooze. “The trick”, he said, “is not minding”.
Doesn’t surprise me, Ray Charles could putt better than Crusher on his best day. Look, I haven’t got time to play your chickenshit games! I need to know what you know.
[All of a sudden the haunting sound of someone whistling echoes through the parking garage. The sound slowly recedes into the deep flourescent night, leaving in its wake an eerie and unsettling silence, the humidity and stillness enveloping the two like a dead, wet sock-eyed salmon.]
[Lights a cigarette and exhales deeply.] Forget about aura the media has created around this Exec-Comm. Forget about the fact they’re the only team in the 23 years of Goodboys Invitationals to repeat as champions. The fact is, these aren’t a very bright bunch of guys, and things got out of hand.
Where are the Goodboys playing this year?
[Dramatic pause] Friday at Sagamore Hampton, Saturday at Wentworth-By-The-Sea, Sunday at Black Swan.
Sagamore Hampton? That’s one step above a muni track!
No it’s not, and you know it. You’ve been playing too many Arizona golf courses winding through “Pleasant Valley Sunday” subdivisions filled with too-fancy driving ranges and too-cute cart girls. The Goodboys played there in 2010. Shit, you were there, think you put up a big number. [Sighs wistfully.] Ah yes, the last year of the old guard, the last year of “Crusher” Spielberg and “Dandy” Drewett. Here, remember this?
…truly the end of an era. Anyways, the thought is to make the first day more enjoyable, as The Ledges has eaten too many people alive in the last few years. Hell, there’s nothing wrong with a little change – aren’t you guys thinking about ditching Vegas for South Beach and Doral next February?
My God, they’ve gotten to you too! So, who are the teams?
I think you can guess who the teams are from the way Exec-Comm has been using a NBA-style draft e-mail thread to…
GODDAMMIT, WHO ARE THE TEAMS? WHO’s BEHIND THIS DAMNED OPERATION?
[The parking garage is quiet except for the hum of air conditioning. Deep Throat stubs out his cigarette, exhales, and steps closer to Woodward.]
It was a “Possum” Shepter operation from the start. Everyone is involved, it goes all the way to the top. The thought was, Exec-Comm could make a little drinking money if they put the configuration of the teams out to the highest bidder, but then big money came in and blew the whole operation to shreds. Here are the teams:
“2 Times” Proctor – “Possum” Shepter
“The Funny Guy” Andrusaitis – “The Great White Shank” Richard
“Killer” Kowalski – “Cubby” Myerow
“Vegas” Clark – “Goose” Dwyer
“Skipper” Bornemann – “Doggy Duval” McLaughlin
“Deuce” Doucette – “Hulkigan” Tripp
…you’ll get nothing else from me, not even if you play Miley Cyrus tunes for the next twelve hours.
[Suddenly, there’s the sound of a car starting up and it tears out of the parking garage, its wheels squealing all the way like a two-year old needing to go potty. Woodward looks around, and Deep Throat has disappeared.]
Sonofabitch, I wanted to ask him where we’re eating Friday night. Guess I’ll have to wait for the newsletter.
It wasn’t me…I didn’t do it!
Comment by Possum — June 26, 2014 @ 2:44 am