I wasn't surprised to hear the thunder rolling Sunday morning as overcast skies deposited a soft, steady rainfall. After all, it was the final day of the annual Early Bird couples' golf tournament at Springdale Country Club.
That's why my nickname for the amiable pro at this event after years of weekend rains has become Roy "Lightning" Hobbs and his indispensable right hand, Matt "Thunder" Hinton.
Thankfully, the 90 two-person teams by now had become so familiar with expected water from above that most were prepared with rain suits and cart covers.
Couples tournaments have steadily gained in popularity; many Arkansas country clubs host their own festive hoots each year.
Mainly though, I believe they become an excuse to escape for an enjoyable weekend and catch up with friends.
Every participant already has plenty of golf equipment, so a couples' tournament isn't as much about winning as it is an excuse for a good time where an observer can learn some valuable life lessons.
For instance, my partner, Tammy Trzeciak, was standing on the picturesque 14th green when she was reminded of a time when, on this same emerald carpet, she'd heard a loud "kersplat!" directly behind her.
Tammy had turned to see a squirrel spread-eagle on the green. It had a wide-eyed expression on its face. But where had this large rodent without wings come from? The equally confused squirrel laid there staring for a moment before standing and making its way off the green.
Then she heard the circling hawk screeching frustration overhead. It was the same bird of prey that had allowed the heavy squirrel it had swept up to flip free of its talons and sail to the ground.
Seeing that drama immediately reminded Tammy of the serious, life-threatening health problems she's overcome since her teenage years. "That squirrel and I could relate to each other as survivors," she said. "We both had beaten death under some mighty extreme odds against making it."
On our first day of play, we'd joined Ed and Kerry Helton. On the par-three 13th hole across water, Kerry sailed her tee shot directly toward the flag. The white dimpled sphere hopped once before appearing, still aboveground, to settle less than an inch from the distant hole. It was high-fives all around that she'd struck such an outstanding shot.
As we approached the green, it was confusing to the eye to determine exactly where her ball had stopped. Until, that was, we grew close enough to see it was actually sitting in the hole and being held aboveground, resting against the flagpole.
The message I took from Kerry's hole-in-one is that all is seldom as it seems to be in life and, once again, never to assume anything. Sometimes things also turn out even better than they initially appear.
On another day, we joined Ray and Terri Tarwater. Ray told of how, while cleaning out his garage, his bag of clubs strapped onto the back of his cart parked immediately behind him was stolen.
He ran out and looked, but saw no one. And his insurance wouldn't cover the loss. "It was unbelievable," he said. "One minute they were there and the next vanished without a sound."
With a game looming, he had no choice but to hurriedly purchase new clubs. During the very next round, he said he sent an iron shot flying onto the par-3 green that rolled into the hole. "It was my one and only hole-in-one," he said, "Since our club has a fund that pays for making one, I also won $500, which helped cover the cost of those new clubs. Unbelievable."
Yep. Unbelievable. The lesson? Those things that happen and seem so bad at the time can also wind up with a happy ending we'd never imagined.
On day three, we were paired with lifelong friends Ann and Pat Moles from Harrison. As I've written previously, Pat's profound injuries suffered from a land-mine blast in Vietnam left him missing a left arm and with only four partial digits on his right hand.
Yet he plays this game better than most because he became determined years ago that he would.
No need to revisit the lesson in attitude that Pat, the city's former mayor, shares with each of us in the need for us to make lemonade from even the bitterest lemons we get handed.
At the end of each day, veteran Springdale Country Club bartender Kyle Downing was waiting with what I can best describe as a liberal and familiar grin, and a sympathetic ear accustomed to hearing it all. Events coordinator Angela Faulkner and veteran crowd-pleaser Kathie Williams were in states of perpetual motion that have long characterized their hands-on styles of tending the dining needs of 180 people.
Ol' Lightning and Thunder were making their way among the crowded tables to shake hands and listen patiently to endless tales of 7-iron heroism, near-miracles and lots of woes.
I left this year's Early Bird damp again, but feeling a bit wiser and planning to purchase a new rain suit for next fall's festival of pars, birdies, bogeys and life lessons disguised as a golf tournament.
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Mike Masterson's column appears regularly in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at mikemasterson10@hotmail.com. Read his blog at mikemastersonsmessenger.com.
Editorial on 09/27/2014