Golf brings out the best in a good man and the worst in a bad man. Evel Knievel
Evel Knievel, daredevil and golfer, died today at 69. Knievel's My Shot in Golf Digest was one of the best. I especially liked his memories of meeting Arnold Palmer.
I was playing 21 at the Aladdin in Las Vegas, betting $10,000 a hand. Arnold Palmer and Winnie are standing right behind me, watching. And I'm losing. The dealer is pulling 20 every time, and although I'm pulling my share of 20s, too, I can't win a hand, and I'm losing a lot of money. And I'm getting really angry. The next hand he deals me a 20, and he's got a face card showing. I'm certain he has 20, and I just can't bear tying again. So I ask for a hit. The dealer freaks out, shuts the table down and screams for Ash Resnick, who runs the casino. Ash comes along and is told I want to hit 20. He looks at me for a long time and then says, "Give the kid a hit." The dealer gives me an ace, and when I turn around, Arnold's eyes are this big, and Winnie looks like she's going to be sick. "I know what pressure is," Arnold said, "but you're too much."More...Arnold gave me a great lesson once. We were at Bay Hill, and I suggested that we play for some cash. He put his arm around me and said, "Evel, I've got a lot of money, and I don't need any of yours. On the other hand, I don't want you to have any of mine." That taught me something about gambling with friends: Keep it friendly.
I figure I've lost close to half a million dollars on the golf course, most of the time to cheaters. See, the honest games are small games. Big money is what attracts the thieves, and it was well known I played for big money. In hindsight, the solution would have been to bring a lie detector, hook the people up, and start counting backward from 20. When you reach the number that doesn't set off the lie detector, that's their handicap.
Golf was spiritual for me. I loved being around the trees, the sun, the water and fresh air. It was like being next to God. But that changed on a day two years ago when I played at my home course, Butte Country Club in Montana. I got into a money game with four other guys. I knew three of them, and the fourth, they said, carried a 12-handicap. The stranger birdied the first hole. On the second hole I caught him stepping behind his ball in the rough and claimed the hole. He parred the third hole, and on the fourth, he hit his approach one inch from the hole. At that point I really smelled a rat. I drove my cart over to the four guys. "Gentlemen, for all intents and purposes, this game is over. If you think you have money coming and want to discuss it, I'll be waiting in the parking lot with a .44 magnum." They didn't show up, of course. I learned later that all four men had set the game up in a bar the night before we played. That day broke my spirit, to realize that friends would try to take advantage of friends like that. I'm just now beginning to find the urge to play again. When I do, it will be with friends. And we won't bet thousands of dollars, we'll play to see who buys dinner.
Check out the whole interview by Guy Yocom.
--Bob Carney
(Photo: Dom Furore)
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