Joe McQuaid's Publisher's Notebook: Helps not to go batty during round of golf
Playing a round of golf at the highly-regarded and only occasionally soggy Derryfield Country Club with B.C., Gitmo, and smooth-swinging Charlie, we are all startled to hear the voice of Mrs. B.C.
That would be B.C. He looks up, as do the rest of us.
"Don't. (pause) Pick Up. (pause) The plastic (double-pause) on the kitchen floor!" she says.
Did she say "plastic" or perhaps "plastique?" Should B.C. be worried?
(I would have gone with "why not?'' but that's just me.)
Mrs. B.C. responds with a one-word reply that rings out across several holes.
"Oh, (expletive deleted here)!" says B.C.
Seems the couple has had this trouble before. Bats. And B.C. clearly isn't a big fan. He shudders at the very word.
And the plastic, or plastique?
"She probably put a plastic coffee can over it," B.C. guesses. (It is later confirmed by Mrs. B.C. that the plastic is one step in an operation in which Mr. B.C. gets suited up like one of the Ghostbusters in order to remove the bat. This also involves a snow shovel.)
"I told you," says Baby Brother. "That house has always been full of bats. It's the closet at the top of the stairs."
This further upsets B.C., whose grip on our game that day never quite comes back, despite repeated beverage fortifications, all sung to a little tune that B.C. has made up called "The Beer Cart Girl."
Write to Joe McQuaid at firstname.lastname@example.org or via Twitter at @deucecrew.