THE other night, my wife and I were digging through a box of old memories when a newspaper clipping caught our eyes. Remembering a fun-filled
day with FreddyIt was folded several times, yellow with age. But seeing it for the first time in years shot a Twilight Zone thrill up my spine.
The article, written by a much younger me, didn't concern a monumental event that causes people to remember where they were when it happened. If you live in a place like San Angelo, Texas, nothing that important ever drops by.
No, this was one of those "localized features" that were the rage in those days. It was about a collegiate golfer named John Slaughter, who during high school, made a name for himself on courses all across West Texas.
The University of Houston golfer was returning home to Abilene on an October weekend in 1982 to play in a PGA Tour event that only exists in memories and record books.
It was something of a stretch, but my hook was to do a story on Slaughter and to get some comments from a fellow Houston Cougar golfer, who was finishing his second year on Tour.
Of course, my girlfriend wanted to come with me on this 90-mile trip due north between two forgettable Texas towns. After weekends spent with me covering high school football and Division II track meets, the second annual Lajet Classic looked like an all-expense-paid trip to the Bahamas.
WE spent the first two hours trying to see as many famous golfers strolling by as we could. Too bad nobody gave us a how-to manual on what you can and can't do at a Tour event.
Perhaps then my girlfriend wouldn't have asked for an autograph the second after Ben Crenshaw hit his drive into the lake. And maybe I wouldn't have queried Tom Watson on how he felt about missing that six-foot birdie putt on his way to the next tee.
With the two of us on the verge of wearing out our welcome, my girlfriend asked me, "Now, who are you doing a story on again?"
I started digging through my notebook before finding the right page. Slaughter, playing as an amateur, was paired with Tom Kite. The former University of Houston golfer, whose name I couldn't remember, was in the group with eventual champion Wayne Levi.
"Here it is," I said to her. "It's some guy named Fred Couples."
She wrinkled her nose in disinterest, but agreed to wait with me just off the 18th green as Couples finished. Don't mind her, though, if Curtis Strange came by.
I didn't unfold the old article to see what Couples said about Slaughter or what it was like playing at the University of Houston. After nearly 16 years, it didn't really matter.
WHAT did matter was my wife smiling at the memory of that brief meeting with Couples as she carefully put the article back in the box. Like me, she didn't have to read it to recall how much fun we had that day or how many times we've told people, 'We knew Freddy when.'
Seeing Couples in person -- at Tuesday's Johnny Bellinger Shoot-Out -- for the first time since that late October day left me feeling a little like "The Highlander's" Conner Macleod whenever he meets a fellow immortal -- dazed and confused.
Part of me wanted to go up to Couples and ask him if he remembered that day when he discussed a round of golf with a goof and his future wife from West Texas.
"But I wouldn't if I were you," my wife said referring to Page 1, Rule 1 of the manual on relating home-movie experiences to famous people. "He'll probably think you're like one of those guys with a thousand-yard stare."
So I didn't say anything as he stood in front of me, quietly joking with his peers. And in the grand scheme of things, there really was no need. That conversation was carefully folded and put away a lifetime ago.
Paul Arnett has been covering sports
for the Star-Bulletin since 1990.
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