How it feels

Golf Digest, June, 2005 by Ron Kaspriske

The funny thing is, because I'd played that hole so many times when I could see, I have this clear vision of all three of my aces.

Having a heart attack on the course George Billings, 65, Gardner, Mass.

It happened at my usual Saturday-morning course, Gardner Municipal. I was on the seventh hole, playing my third shot, and everything was fine. I didn't feel tired or woozy. In fact, I'm a 23-handicapper and I'd been playing bogey golf to that point, so I was actually feeling pretty happy. But then I hit my third shot, and as I began to walk after it I passed out. I was having a massive heart attack, and just like that, I dropped.

I was legally dead for three minutes. Don Gerard, who was the course ranger at the time, was checking the pace of play when he saw me go down. My two playing partners were ahead of me, and they had no idea that I had passed out. Don came over and tried to talk to me, but I was unconscious. He called the golf shop, and they sent the assistant pro, who quickly grabbed the course's defibrillator and also found an off-duty fireman on the first tee. It was pure luck that they had the defibrillator; they had just gotten it.

They had to give me a couple of jolts, but they got my heart going again, and eventually they got me to the hospital. From the time I fainted until the time I woke up in UMass General three days later, I don't remember anything. I wasn't even in pain. All I remember is my wife telling me what had happened and the doctor recommending that I have double-bypass surgery.

This all happened a year ago, and I'm back playing golf about three or four times a week. My philosophy is, if you worry about it, you're inviting it to happen again. I do think about one thing: If it had happened on a weekday, there would have been no rangers out there and no one would have seen me faint until it was too late. I wouldn't be here telling you this story.

Losing your tour pro's favorite club By Mark Long, 41, Fred Funk's caddie

During the Bob Hope Chrysler Classic a couple of years ago, Fred and I were getting ready for our round at Bermuda Dunes. The first club Fred always pulls out of the bag when we get to the range to warm up is the 60-degree wedge. Only problem: There was no 60-degree wedge.

Fred really loved that wedge. Now I'm frantically trying to piece together where it could be. Meanwhile, the clock is ticking to our tee time.

Fred tends to throw his clubs down in the general vicinity of his golf bag after he's done with them, so I'm thinking he must've done that the day before at PGAWest. I ran to my car and raced over to PGAWest, which was about 10 minutes away. But when I get there, it's nowhere to be found. After looking all over the practice area, I tried the cart barn.

I was just about to give up when I noticed a lost-club bin with a bunch of beat-up clubs. There, in that heap, was Fred's shiny new wedge. Talk about relief. I made it back in record time, and the three of us-me, Fred and the wedge-headed to the first tee. Would you believe that the next week Fred took that club out of the bag and put in a new wedge? Nice. Real nice.