-2002 HackFest Golf Championship-
HawksHead Revisited:
MJM takes the Trophy; RJM gives it to him.
It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. No, I'm not stealing from Dickens. I'm describing HackFest 2002 golf in South Haven at sandy HawksHead. Despite ruling the roost all week long during the three warmup rounds, RJM faltered horribly on day four, and for him, it couldn't have gotten much worse. Like an '84 Yugo stuffed with six Sumo wrestlers going up a steep hill, he struggled all the way. His sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy-headed play threw the door wide open for Michael J., who pranced right through with a completely off-the-charts 87 -- some SEVENTEEN strokes better than his earlier round on the same course. His strategic sandbagging paid off in spades: The much-cherished 2002 HackFest Champion's trophy made its way east, yes, but not to Baltimore -- its expected location -- but rather to Newton, NJ, after a year-long stint on Warrington Drive in Ann Arbor. There, defending champ, William O., kept it glistening with a daily polishing employing a highly effective secret compound consisting of mink oil, Oil of Olay, 10w-30, and, most importantly, one tablespoon of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter.
HackFest 2002 champ, Michael J., sends the tee box marker (white ball in lower-middle) sailing with an careless warmup swing on number 12, a short par 3. He was whacking it so well that even the errant oversized plastic marker reached the green in one. Michael ended up two-putting it and got his par. It was that kind of a day.
History can oftentimes be painful to reflect on, especially for poor, arthritis-ridden Uncle Rich who, for the second consecutive year, collapsed on the final day of play which is always, coincidentally, the Championship Round. For his part, Michael J. came out of nowhere to take honors, despite having slapped the ball around like a spastic-doofus throughout the week. So pathetic had his performance on the links been up until his astounding emergence on the last day, he was contemplating petitioning the HackFest Board of Directors to bring back basketball as the official trophy-sport.
But his magical turnaround made that consideration moot, as he received the HackFest hardware (see below) from defending champion, WO, whose stunning victory on the final hole in Avalon is now deeply entrenched in HackFest legend. In that year, which had Michael on the sidelines nursing a contankerous back, the Champ, whose oddball swing was picked up and refined by Jim Furyk with stunningly far greater success, moved in for the kill. His astounding par on the final hole, while brothers RJ and JP went scuba diving for their sodden balls in the murky, scummy pond that separated tee from green, was recently voted on ESPN.COM as one of the top 100,000 moments in sports, coming in at #99,687, just ahead of UCLA's stirring 9-8 come-from-behind victory in the 1978 Pac-Ten Conference Championship women's field hockey quarter-finals.
Defending Champion, WO, hands off the hallowed HackFest trophy to brother Michael, whose rousing victory in the final round at HawksHead stunned even himself. MJ had been awakened only moments before from his seat at the dining room table where he was catching a power nap while playing "Gotcha" with the kids. As he was being presented with the spoils of war, he asked, "What's this for? Who won what? Huh? Who are you? Can I go lie down on my stomach now?" He was quickly led away by Aunt Donna, who tucked him in and read him the first two paragraphs of the Rich Beem autobiography, which was enough to put him out for nine consecutive hours of much-deserved sleep. Fortunately, he was okay in the morning, though he professed no recollection of the previous three days, including his championship round.
Historic Hawkshead Final Round Scorecard:
Although for three players in particular, the sight of this written record of the 2002 Championship Final at HawksHead conjures up a mournful vision of what could have been, for one individual, it is a testament to what was: his stellar play. The bastard.