Mark T. has produced five telecasts of the Herald Times City Tournament for BCAT, has played in the championship flight three times and has been a spectator for more than fifteen years. He offers these insights into the inner workings of the competitors' minds.....

Local residents have a unique opportunity to visit Cascades Golf Course over the next ten days to observe a natural phenomonen unlike any in the animal kingdom. It's called Golfaholism. It's a strange disease that overtakes people who innocently enough, in the beginning, just want to have a little fun. Before long that desire to have fun has been transformed into an unnatural delusional endeavor filled with frustration and stress that eventually leaves the player flabbergasted and suicidal. How could this happen?

It begins with watching professional golf on television. These titans make the game look so easy, that the unwitting viewer believes he or she can have fun at this game. Accepting an offer to play that first round with an aquaintance who has an extra set of clubs, is akin to taking that first stiff drink. In the first round of golf, the poor golfer makes a par and maybe a couple decent shots, and he is hooked on golf. Like a cancer, the disease begins its inexorable course towards the golfer's ultimate addiction.

Subsequent rounds of golf are like so many cocktail parties. The euphoria of that first birdie sends the golfer to realms of thought that can only be considered delusional. He begins to believe he is good golfer. This is what is called Stage Two. Playing Cascades Golf Course is not like playing these TV tournament courses, but when the golfer begins to make scores, on this easy golf course, that impress even himself, the delusions of grandeur begin. Watching golf telecasts, he begins to compare himself with those on TV, often overheard saying things like " I could have made that putt!" or "I've got that shot!"

Hopelessly entangled in a web of his own weaving, he takes the next plunge - entering the City Golf Tournament. This flighted tournament allows beginning Golfaholics the opportunity to face others with the same degree of addiction. In some matches,usually in the tenth to fifteenth flights, there is a genuine good time had by all. In others, the dark side of the disease rears it's ugly head. Some behaviors known and seen to exist are cheating, coughing while the opponent putts, cursing, club breaking and name calling. These acts reach their most polished form in the ultimate arena known as the Championship Flight. This flight is reserved for those seriously addicted, some from early childhood.

To these tortured souls Golf is no longer a game. It is an obsession. Their personal calendars are dictated by golf. Work has to be scheduled around golf. Loved ones are forgotten or take up golf to share in the misery. Winter, without golf, is like hell; summer, one long round of golf, culminating in the high ceremony of the City Tournament. The initiation ceremony is called Qualifications, where some 75 or more vie for 31 spots, the final spot in the field being awarded to the Champion, the High Priest and Defender of the Faith. This giant is usually someone totally dedicated to the life style and brazen in expounding the benefits of its sacraments. He lives and breathes golf. He has a library of video tapes of famous golf matches. He has books of instruction by all the past golfing masters. He subscribes to several golf magazines. He watches the golf channel on TV. He even dreams that he wins the US Open.

Surviving the qualification tournament is like an ordeal by fire. Tempers flare; clubs are thrown; grown men and women are reduced to tears over missing two foot putts; foresome friendships are strained to breaking. Yet, the golfer is resilient and finally he finds himself on the first tee of his match.

It is during the match that this disease produces its most interesting behaviors. Suddenly our player decides he needs someone to carry his clubs. So he orders a loved one or friend to tote a bag of overpriced hi-tech clubs 18 holes at 95 degrees. He reads every putt as if the US open were at stake. Perspiration pours through the arm pits of his Greg Norman look-alike $65 golf shirt. Meticulously, he cleanses his ball of all impurities so that he can glean every inch of its "longest ball in golf" claim. He looks the part, he acts the part. After launching his drive, he strides down the fairway, head held high knowing that he can win this match. In his mind, his opponent is a mere formality, a midget with a mind and swing to match, unaware of the subleties of the game of which He is the master.

Dear reader, you must see now the dire straits that this poor soul is in. Therefore, when you go to the Cascades Golf Course this week to see the action, think not evil of these wretches but know that they are driven by circumstances beyond their control. Pity especially those Championship Flighters, for you now know the degree of their affliction. And when the trophies are presented realize that these are not prizes, but that they are the weights that will hang around their necks until next year, when they must defend their titles.