The Safari Golfer's Rise to Fame (p75-p78)

(Setting:  The Head Honcho's aide, But Sir!, explains to Jefferson and Freeman how the Safari Golfer, today's pre-eminent cultural icon, got to be so famous.)

"I cannot fathom the public's infatuation with him," observed Jefferson. "George Washington was first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen, yet he didn't wear an earring, have millions of idolaters, or be infatuated with sex. How did this Safari Golfer get to be so famous? Did he win a war? Did he lead a nation? Did he cultivate a revolution?"

"None of the above," replied But Sir!. "It’s no longer necessary to do anything significant to become famous. His notoriety began during a Masters Golf Tournament years ago. Up till then, he was a journeyman golfer on the fringe of the PGA tour. He might have faded into oblivion, except he had a gimmick that set him apart from the other marginal professionals. He was terribly inaccurate off the tee, so to survive on the tour, he nurtured a remarkable ability to recover from wooded predicaments and make par. Because of his frequent excursions into the underbrush, he wore khaki fatigues and knee high leather boots, with a safari hat on his head and a Bowie knife strapped to his waist.

"He removed certain clubs from his golf bag to make room for tools better suited to his style of play. He discarded his two iron, because not even God can hit one well. He discarded his fairway woods because his drives never landed there. And finally, because his putter was adding three strokes to his score each hole, he threw the damn thing away, which kept him competitive on the tour despite his habitual forays beyond the course confines.

"He loaded more useful paraphernalia into his bag. A machete replaced the two iron, so that he could cut a swath wide enough to address his ball in the bramble. Hip waders, a snorkel, and a diving mask replaced the fairway woods, because when there isn't jungle adjacent to a fairway, there is usually water. A Khalishnakov rifle replaced the putter. There are dangerous animals in the woods, and you can’t win a golf tournament if one eats you. Besides, he wasn't winning any tournaments, so he fed himself by shooting wild game between errant golf shots.

"His eccentric play was generally ignored because he rarely survived the cut after the first two rounds, so he trudged through tournaments in obscurity. The few fans that appreciated his antics nicknamed him the Safari Golfer. Then, during a fateful Masters Tournament years ago, he played the best golf of his life. His recoveries from impossible lies were stunning, and as Saturday merged into Sunday, he not only survived the cut, he was among the leaders.

"The weather turned in his favor on the final day. The wind picked up and the greens became lightning fast. With TV cameras finally focused on him, thousands of fans and journalists got their first real glimpse of him. He cut a resplendent figure, with perspiration from the hot sun staining his khaki shirt, and with the Bowie knife dangling rakishly from his belt. As he made one fabulous recovery from the woods after another, the crowd abandoned Palmer and Nicklaus to follow the eccentric golfer they were suddenly infatuated with.

"The TV commentators were unprepared for his emergence. They hadn't studied his biographical information or his history on the tour. They didn't even know his name. They did know that everyone was calling him the Safari Golfer and that today he was the darling of the gallery. The cameras immortalized his bizarre exploits turning Augusta National’s hallowed "Amen Corner", where he snorkeled across the pond at number eleven, tunneled under the azaleas at number twelve, and pole-vaulted over Rae's Creek at number thirteen.

"The contest came down to the final hole. Nicklaus, Palmer, and the Safari Golfer were tied at 13 under par. Jack and Arnie laced perfect drives down the fairway, while the Golfer sliced his tee shot into the magnolias. The crowd surged into the trail he blazed with his machete. He astounded them by launching a perfect four iron shot from a lie that wasn’t on any map. He strode in unexpected glory up to the 18th green, which was surrounded by fanatics who had gone bonkers. His second shot had hit the fringe, hopped twice, and rolled into the cup for a tournament-winning eagle. Jack and Arnie shook his hand seconds before the gallery converged on him. He donned the fabled green jacket and was thrust onto the shoulders of adulating fans while firing wild shots from his Khalishnakov into the azure Georgia heavens. America's love affair with him had begun.

"His fame grew exponentially after that Masters victory, even though he never won another tournament. America was eager for a fresh new cultural icon, so he was magically transformed from mere golfing hero into a public persona that transcended sport into the realm of the mythic. The rest is history."