May 14, 2016

[Ed. note: since this year’s Goodboys Exec-Comm has been (for lack of a better term) a little delayed in revealing its plans for the 2016 Goodboys Invitational weekend, Goodboys Nation weblog sent a reporter (call him “Woodward”) to meet with a certain someone (call him “Earl E. TeeTimes”) with serious connections to the Exec-Comm inner circle. In the spirit of “All The President’s Men” (yours truly’s all-time fave flick), we have the scoop right here on Goodboys Nation weblog.]

What’s the topic for tonight?

This year’s Goodboys Invitational weekend.

You’ll get no information from me on that.

Look, all I’m looking for is who the teams are and where we’re playing.

And you think I’m going to break trust and tell you what I know? You must be dreaming. …Or a Ted Cruz supporter.

I didn’t know there was a difference. [Awkward pause] But you do know, don’t you? And you could tell me, correct?

Well, the fact is that I do know, but if you knew what I 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 knew what I know then I wouldn’t be the only one who knows what I know. Or knew. Or whatever.

[Crickets chirping]

The Goodboys universe has always been tight-lipped about these kinds of things. I was once playing in a foursome with Ron “Cubby” Myerow – a former winner of the Goodboys Invitational, BTW – and after missing a two-foot putt he flung his putter fifty yards into the brush behind the green. Fifty yards! “The trick”, he said, “is not minding”.

Doesn’t surprise me, Ray Charles could putt better than Cubby 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, unsettling silence, the humidity and stillness enveloping the two like a Hillary Clinton pantsuit.]

Did you take a cab?

Yeah. Yeah!

How do you know it was a cab?

Well, the driver wore a turban, couldn’t speak or understand a word of English, and he spent the entire time talking on his cell phone while taking me in the wrong direction. I ended up tossing him a c-note and walked here myself.

[Lights a cigarette and exhales deeply.] Forget about the aura the mainstream media has created around this year’s Exec-Comm. The fact of the matter 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] You’re going back to Plymouth. Friday at CrossWinds – that is, unless they can grease enough palms to get you all out at Pinehills again. Saturday at Indian Pond. Sunday at Waverly Oaks.

Indian Pond? Hell, that’s a private club! How on earth did Exec-Comm get the Goodboys on that track?

It wasn’t Exec-Comm – they outsourced the tee times to the team that finished last, last year – remember?

Wow. I guess even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while.

Heh. That would explain Donald Trump becoming the GOP nominee. I suppose you’re also going to be wanting to know who the teams are this year, right?

[The parking garage is quiet except for the hum of air conditioning. Earl E. TeeTimes stubs out his cigarette, exhales, and steps closer to Woodward.]

It was a “Goose” Dwyer operation from the start. Everyone is involved, that’s what happens when you start outsourcing your operations. 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 the Establishment dough-ray-me came in and blew the whole operation to shreds. Here are the teams:

“Killer” Kowalski – “Possum” Shepter
“Doggy Duval” McLaughlin – “The Great White Shank” Richard
“2 Times” Proctor – “TFB” Andrusaitis
“Deuce” Doucette – “Goose” Dwyer
“Skipper” Bornemann – “Cubby” Myerow
“Vegas” Clark – “Hulkigan” Tripp

My God, they all came back. What about “Mothra”?

Mothra’s on the outside looking in, just like Bernie Sanders, minus the crazy uncle hair.

[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 bitch in heat. Woodward looks around, and Earl E. TeeTimes has disappeared.]

Sonofabitch. I wanted to ask him where we’re eating this year. Looks like I’ll have to wait until the newsletter.

Filed in: Goodboys by The Great White Shank at 02:42 | Comments (5)
  1. Great job!!! Love the parody!
    But have to correct on one point. Deuce made the Indian Pond deal. Give Execcom some credit.

    Comment by Goose — May 14, 2016 @ 11:43 am

  2. Nothing good can come from a Goodboys round at a private club . . .

    Comment by Dave Richard — May 15, 2016 @ 6:06 am

  3. Absolutely Brilliant Shank.

    On the private club thing, they better not rush us again. I hate being rushed by the Rangers to accomodate members. That will not be tolerated and beatings will ensue. Can’t wait.

    Comment by Mark Skippa Bornemann — May 16, 2016 @ 2:59 am

  4. BIG LOL on Dave’s comment. So true. Tell Cubby no Bruins jersey are allowed

    Comment by Killer — May 16, 2016 @ 1:50 pm

  5. Cubby, just be sure to bring your Swisher Sweets with you. You never know who you’re likely to meet at a private club! Offering one would be the ultimate ice breaker…

    Comment by The Great White Shank — May 16, 2016 @ 7:52 pm

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