Fictional golf stories chronicle outlandish tales of Skully & Banes
LEESBURG, Va. – After bursting on the scene recently with an award-winning Web site and a line of gear featuring their trademarked tee through the olive logo, the folks at Golfoholics, Inc. have taken their addictive inclinations a step further by releasing a book of fictional golf stories by Chase Balata entitled Golfoholicsâ?¢, The Front Nine.
"This little black book of golf stories chronicles the misadventures of a couple of golf junkies," says author Chase Balata. "Neither rain, sleet, snow nor the dead of night keeps Skully & Banes from their appointed rounds."
Balata had written many of the stories for the magazine Washington Golf Monthly (now called GolfStyles). The idea for the characters Skully & Banes began when Jeff Thoreson, the magazine’s editor-in-chief, called Balata and told him they were doing an issue featuring hole-in-one stories and asked if he was a member of that elite club. Balata paused and replied, "How about a mulligan hole-in-one?" Thoreson loved it and what resulted was a series of tales about Skully & Banes making their rounds. The book has nine of those tales.
"Golfoholics grabs you by the Titleists and doesn’t let go until you’ve killed a perfectly good evening devouring its contents," says publisher Dave Replogle, CEO of HotHouse Press.
The following excerpt from A.K.A. A.K.A, the first story in the book, gives you a flavor of what those tales are like:
Francis X. Sullivan was a nickname magnet. He was Frank. Frankie. Franko. FX. X-Man. XS. Sully. Van. Vandaman. Van Gogh. VG. Sully Van Gogh.
In fact, he had so many names, he was also known as A.K.A.
But he might as well have been called Teflon, because none of these names stuck until Skully came along. And when that moniker reared its boney head, it stuck like a high wedge shot landing on a soft wet green.
Its tenacious origins can be traced to the day Frank and his golf buddy Chester Banes were teamed up in a member/member at the Schwing Club. It was a two-man team best ball tournament that found them 7 under after 16 holes. They were on fire. But then something happened that took them out of the zone and into the Twilight Zone.
Frankie had birdied the previous hole and had honors on 17, a 195-yard par 3 along the river.
"Whaddya think?" Banes asked his partner. "Easy 5-wood?"
"Hard 5-iron," Franko said decisively, pulling the club from his bag.
"You may want a little schwing lube in that case." Chester offered his partner an old beat-up flask filled with single malt. "Allow me to introduce you to my good friend Glen."
"Ah, Dr. Livet I presume," FX replied, reaching for the flask. "So nice to make your acquaintance." As he took a swig of the Glenlivet, a pair of Canada geese flew in from the river and settled on the white tee box for a front row seat.
"Grip it and rip it Sull," urged Banes.
With that, Sully stood over his ball and emptied his mind, savoring the warmth of Glen emanating from his gut. He eyed his target, envisioning the ball flying magnetically toward the pin, and swung.
His hips began to pivot.
His arms found the slot.
As the clubhead neared maximum velocity, one of the geese issued a premature "You da man" that came out as a loud "HONK HONK HONK."
The interruption shattered Van Gogh’s artful concentration causing him to lift his head ever so slightly which in turn lifted the club head an inch too high, resulting in a low screaming zonker.
But the ball wasn’t the only thing that was skulled. On the white tee box, the head of one of the geese exploded in a sickening SPLAT! sending feathers, blood & guts in all directions. The headless goose did the Texas two-step on the teebox as if looking for its noggin while its partner looked on in horror. "HONK?"
The foursome back at the blue tees was speechless until Chester broke the silence.
"I’d say you skulled that one, Skully." It was inadvertent. It was brilliant. It was adhesive.
"Skullyâ?¦. That’s perfect!" chuckled Fred.
"Skully," Al tried it on for size. "Skully, Skully, Skully," he repeated, liking the fit.
The headless goose collapsed and died.
Skully let out a belated "FORE!."
For the rest of this tale and more misadventures of Skully and Banes order a copy of Golfoholics, The Front Nine at www.amazon.com or www.golfoholics.com.
Contact:
Holly Geoghegan
407-682-4853
holly@golfmarketinginc.com
