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Playing in an outing a few years ago that supported my high school’s athletic department, I hit a duck hook that landed in a parallel fairway. There were few trees, very much open, and the fairways were essentially connected with the same cut of grass. No difference between them, really. Since the course will filled with players from the outing, there was another group that was basically approaching my ball in the middle of their fairway, which they promptly picked up.

Two of my playing partners were headed that way, but I told them I’d go over and handle it. I just pulled up and said,

“You guys just picked up my ball that was laying here in the fairway”.
“What kind is it?”
“Titleist”
“What number?”
“I’m not sure of the number, but it has my name printed on it.”

The shady picker immediately went to his pocket and without saying another word, grabbed it and tossed it back. If he had a tail, it would have been firmly planted between the cheeks of his ass.