The 89th annual Masters golf tournament has come and gone.
My connection with this prestigious event is miniscule.
If it were not for Scott Vorhees of KFAB Radio in Omaha providing updates on Thursday and Friday, sharing his incredible imitation of Jim Nantz’ quiet, funeral home-type voice, with soft piano music played in the background, I wouldn’t have a clue.
I gave up golf on Mother’s Day, 1992.
Mike McConkey, and his then 14-year-old son, the future Dr. Josh McConkey, played nine holes at Skyview Golf Course.
That morning, Josh was confirmed at St. John’s Lutheran Church.
By the eighth hole, I had developed a horrible lower back ache.
So, I decided at age 33, I would let go of this exercise in aggravation.
I began playing golf at age 19. It was the summer of 1978.
The golf course?
All around the tiny town of Touhy, Nebraska.
Touhy, located 25 miles northwest of Lincoln, is the size of Berea.
It consists of a few houses, a catholic church and nearby cemetery, a softball diamond, a one-room schoolhouse, and Tuffy’s Bar and Grill.
My college buddies and I dug five small holes throughout the community and marked them with large rocks.
One of the holes was located near lifelong resident Tom Buresh’s chicken house.
As I have written in past columns, one of my college and lifelong friends was Darrell Walla of Touhy. Darrell lived an active life of 67 years sightless.
On this hot, July afternoon in 1978, Darrell joined us for a round of five-hole golf.
Darrell and I used the same golf clubs, which were purchased by my father in 1952.
When we got to hole number three — about 40 yards, par two — Darrell made a beautiful drive.
However, his drive fluttered high over the hole and through a window in Tom’s chicken house.
An eruption of laughter followed.
Tom was sitting in his lawn chair, nursing a Hamm’s beer.
This tranquil gentleman of 75 years told Darrell: “That’s okay Darrell. It’s NO PROBLEM!”
More laughter followed.
When we arrived back at the clubhouse, Tuffy’s Bar and Grill, the drinks were on Tom.
Several golf outings followed that summer. And the number of guys playing multiplied.
In the spring of 1979, we voted to re-develop the course and expand it to nine holes.
We would hold our own Masters type of tournament.
The event included a five-dollar entry fee which would pay for trophies and post-tournament liquid nourishment to be enjoyed at Tuffy’s horseshoe pits.
We named the tournament “The Tom Buresh No Problem Open.”
20 of us competed on that hot Sunday afternoon.
Tee off was at 1 pm outside Tuffy’s bar.
The second hole was in an open lot not far from Tom’s home.
The third hole was, once again, near Tom’s chicken house.
No windows were damaged or injured this go around.
The fourth hole was in Mick Ohnoutka’s front yard.
The fifth hole was outside the entry gate to the cemetery.
The sixth hole was near the west wall of St. Vitus Catholic Church. A requirement at hole number six was to genuflect before retrieving our ball from the hole.
Hole number seven was on the outskirts of a nearby cornfield.
Many of us took a penalty stroke when our ball landed in the four-foot-high corn.
Hole number eight was near the one-room schoolhouse.
Hole number nine was halfway back to Tuffy’s horseshoe pits.
I finished fifth out of twenty.
Darrell finished in 19th place when his dog, poochie, dropped out of the tournament to chase rabbits.
Trophies and beverages were awarded and the clank, clank, clank of horseshoes finding their way to the pits followed.
Tom Buresh, Darrell Walla and many of the other players from that tournament 46 years ago have since departed.
But their good time spirits remain with us.
Que the piano music.
“The Tom Buresh No Problem Open. A Tradition Unlike Any Other.”