Hugh Hewitt Calls Me Out

Dammit:

When I was a young lad, I caddied. $4 a round. $6 for a double.  Three rounds a day on the weekends.  With tips you could make $25 in a day. Not bad for a 12 year old in 1968.

But there were jobs which, with sufficient seniority, you’d skip, even if it was the last bag of the day.  Crazy Lou –who was given to every newbie because he yelled at you.  A particular doctor who played worse then than I do now.  And Mr. D.

Mr. D was a cheater.  It was ignominious to be associated with him.  Everyone knew he was a cheater.  Everyone he played with.  The pro shop staff.  And of course the caddies.  Everybody knew.  He was disreputable.