The weather was cool and crisp, perfect for the fair skinned O’Brien, a little too chilly for the heat loving Lazarchick. It was a beautiful fall day, with wind adding challenge to the Championship. Officially the latest ever final, late October, the snowbirds had returned to Florida and Arizona. The greens were sanded preparing for winter weather. O’Malley asked Finnigan why they did it and of course a dissertation followed. The pontification started, “Sanding helps break up thatch, a layer of organic material that builds up over time in the upper root zone. Too much of that stuff is not a good thing. If levels of thatch exceed roughly a half-inch, the greens will suffer during extremes of drought and wet periods. The ill effects can vary. The green might get spongy, or develop brown spots, or become vulnerable to scalping during mowing. Sanding helps protect against all that. Sanding also improves drainage and helps level out the green, creating smooth, consistent putting surfaces, and firm, fast conditions year round.” Aisling interrupted, telling the “men” to be quiet as they are introduced the Final Four.

O’Shaughnessy’s boy came in, his first day of legal drinking. All eyes were on O’Brien and he asked, “You mean that ancient guy who needed 119 strokes to finish Buena?” His father told him OB only got into the finals because the “Young Lassie” went back to teaching. O’Malley, the eternal optimist, responded, “He’s the best player ever to not have won a championship.” At 81, no one really believed he would win. Vegas was able to extract betting money from the Irish Pub by offering ever increasing odds. John Larson had taken the Pinelands Net Championship, from the white tees, the day before. Dave Kissinger had taken two tournament in the regular season and could almost double OB’s driving distance. Lazarchick had over 15 appearances in the finals, three titles and had been taking money from O’Brien since the day he dragged him out to Victor’s Par Three, to get him hooked on the game. The Doctor was the heavy favorite to win, playing John even and giving Dave only 2 strokes. Virtually no one believed the 11 strokes he was getting was enough, but they were very thankful that their hero had actually made the finals. At St Brigid Chapel, Sister Mary Pat told the praying Fiadh she needed to go back because OB needed as much collective positive energy as could be generated. Indeed, he had giving back the leader, 8 strokes in the first 7 holes!

Hofbräuhaus was hopping. John Larson was strong out of the gate commenting that it felt easy after the white tee challenge he had just experienced. He was dropping putts, while LZ was not and had him by 6 strokes before finally losing one on the 8th hole, only because The Doctor flew the hole into the woods from 85 yards out with his second shot, not respecting the wind at his back. In the Polish American Tavern, Casimir commented to Stanislaus that Lazarchick all season, before he was slammed by COVID, saved his front score in the last three holes. Eight was often a birdie or a short par. When he hit his longest drive of the day on 9 and followed with his 4 wood to 75 yards from the pin, he grabbed attention. His third shot was a beautiful pitching wedge straight towards the pin, tucked behind the trap in the back corner. All minds quickly shifted to the thought of an easy birdie. The ball hit the rough and instead of bouncing forward to the pin, it took a right turn into the trap. Three collective moans emanated from the Tavern following his attempts, only to get up 5 feet into the high rough, on route to a snowman. In the Italian Bistro the Godfather dismissed Dave Kissinger’s opening 7 and playing the par 3 holes, four over, all of which put Bruno into panic. Picking up 3 strokes on the last two holes brought cheers as he pulled to within 2 strokes of Larson. OB made the turn with a very respectable 50, tied with Lazarchick.

On ten, hitting into the wind, LZ again fell short on his second shot into a trap. Again he struggled to get out and suffered through his second straight snowman. He knew he had taken himself out, falling 4 more strokes behind by 12. Riding together, John and Dave were focused on each other. Larson was no longer on his early pace and Kissinger was displaying improved play. O’Brien continued to move steadily down the fairways, not long but in play.

O’Brien Furniture had sent a custom, fully liquid resistant, Leather Bar Stool to the Pub engraved with the words OB’s Irish Throne. Murphy the elder, was allowed to sit in it because he was celebrating his 100th birthday. He spilled beer all over himself and added urine to the seat when O’Brien dropped Par on 11. Finnigan assessed that the pride of the Irish Pub had 6 strokes to burn with 7 holes left. O’Malley was the first to say, the old man actually has a chance. On twelve through fifteen however, he lost 5 strokes to the charging Kissinger. There was a glitch in the tournament scoreboard and the only information available to the players was Lazarchick saying that while he was out, all three of them had a chance going into the last holes.

The Doctor dropped the only Birdie of the tournament on 17, a consolation prize, finishing last. After dropping 5 strokes to Kissinger 12 through 15, Larson got 4 back on the final 3 holes, but he would still finish 3rd. Dave had caught OB on the 15th hole. They tied 16 and 17 very aware that John was charging. The scoreboard finally flickered ON in the Promenade. The tension was magnifying within fan bases on the edges of their seats watching a very close eighteenth hole. John and Dave found the woods. John would struggle to 6 and Dave to a second consecutive 7. Michael J. O’Brien cut the center of the fairway and followed with a nice fairway wood, in play as he had done pretty much all day. His third was just short of the green. He chipped beautifully, pretty much as he had done all day. Then he did what he needed. He dropped The Putt!

Beating the field with a five, OB posted a 2 stroke victory. He became the oldest player ever to win the OCAGA Championship taking that record away from the legendary Art Czachorowski. He had defeated the finest the league had to offer. Fiadh was the first to burst into tears as the Irish Pub erupted into a flood of jubilance. The Meadows began playing Joy of Life.

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