This is mostly a true story.

My buddy Kirby and I have known each other for almost fifty years. He’s ten years younger, has more hair—great hair, in fact—and is better-looking. One might think I envy those qualities. I do. 

After graduating college, he accepted a job working for the American Heart Association in Dallas, Texas. As a young professional, he needed the benefit of an experienced manager as his boss. Luckily, it would be me.

Kirby worked hard and became successful. While he displayed a lot of talent, I often talked to him about his future. I thought he would be an outstanding salesman for the right company.

A year after Kirby started working with me. I left my position and entered the private sector. I had an opportunity to become the CEO of a start-up. I told Kirby, "If things work out, I’ll be calling you."

Two years later, I did call him. He became my business partner and long-time friend.    

Now, you should know Kirby has always been a good golfer—like no handicap when he was younger.

The only time I played golf was in the spring of 1968. I needed a physical education credit to graduate college, so I had a choice of golf or tennis. I took golf. It was hard to drink beer and play tennis, but golf was no problem.

My golf handicap? I couldn’t hit the ball. No, you're wrong. It wasn't the beer, only a lack of ability.

At this point, I should also mention Kirby is very competitive. Yes, I’m a little competitive, too. 

Over the years, we bet on three of the four major golf tournaments: the Masters, US Open, and The Open. The bet was simple: We selected two players. If one of our players wins the tournament, the winner gets a bottle of expensive whiskey.

This was how it went this year:

I selected Scottie Scheffler and Jordon Speith for the Masters tournament last April. Scottie has been the top-ranked player in the world for over a year. Scottie, Jordon, and I live in Dallas—no-brainer selections.

Kirby’s two men were Rory McIlroy and Brooks Koepka, both excellent golfers.

For those who don't know, the Masters is held in Augusta, Georgia, in April. Like the other major tournaments, it consists of one round of golf on four consecutive days.

The day before the tournament, I sent Kirby a text and a picture of a full bottle of expensive whiskey.

The text read, “This is yours if you picked the right guy!”

Kirby texted back, “My mouth is watering.”

After the first round, Scottie is on the leaderboard, but Jordon, Rory, and Brooks are absent.

I texted Kirby a picture of a three-quarters-full bottle of expensive whiskey. The text read, “This is yours if your guys get better the rest of the week.”

Kirby texted back, “What are you doing to my whiskey?”

After the second round, Scottie is still looking good.

I texted Kirby a picture of a half-full bottle of expensive whiskey. The text read, “This is yours, even though Jordon missed the cut. Your guys need to rally.”

Kirby texted back, “You need to slow down. I still have a chance.”

After the third round, Scottie began to take command.

I sent a text to Kirby with a picture of a three-quarters-empty bottle of expensive whiskey, “This can be yours, but not too damn likely. Your guys need a divine miracle!”

Kirby texted back, “Yeah, like eighteen holes in one!”

After the final round on Sunday, Scottie won by four. He beat Rory by fifteen and Brooks by twenty strokes.

I texted Kirby a picture of an empty bottle of expensive whiskey. The text read, “I need a refill!”

Kirby texted back, “I’m on it!”

Please note: If I’m really the jerk you think I am, I would have ended the story here.

We still had two more tournaments to make bets. The U.S. Open tournament was held in Pinehurst, North Carolina in June.

Kirby chooses Bryson DeChambeau. I wanted Bryson, another Dallas fella, but he selected him first.

Long story short, Bryson wins.  I gave Kirby a big bottle of expensive whiskey.

No problem. We still have The Open, also known in America as the British Open. The Brits don’t like anyone referring to it that way, as they think there is only one Open, and they have it.

The 2024 Open was contested at Royal Toon Golf Club in Scotland in July. 

I had Scottie, and I was feeling good. I began to think I should charge my iPhone 15 and get some pictures of a full bottle of expensive whiskey.

I hesitated to get the phone/camera.

Kirby had Xander Schauffele—the X-man. He won the PGA in May, a major we didn’t bet on.

Could X-man win another major in the same year? I thought no way.

Okay, so there was a way, by one stroke.

For the year I’m down two big bottles of expensive whiskey to one.

I got a text from Kirby, “I signed you up for AA and Gambler’s Anonymous. They meet in that Catholic Church down the block from you.”