1958 Grundig Majestic (The Bucket List)

Allie wants to know where the Masters story is.

I tell her the Masters story is not about radios.

She says, "A, it most certainly is about radios, and, B, when has that ever stopped you before?"

"Nobody wants to hear the Masters story," I say.

"I think they do."

"It makes me look like an idiot," I say.

"All the more reason," she replies.

So, this is the story about playing golf at Augusta National, which is where The Masters is played every year. I'm not crazy about this story. I have absolutely no problem if you decide to skip it.

Lewberg, Goldfarb, and I were watching The Masters at my house. As he did every single year, Goldfarb said, "I would kill to play there." He knew you could only play Augusta National with a member. And we didn’t know any members. To give you an example, Condoleezza Rice was a member. And, as we did every single year, Goldfarb and I turned to Lewberg, and Lewberg shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, and helped himself to some more Ketel and cran. So, this time, Goldfarb and I were barely paying attention when Lewberg said, "I think I've got a guy."

Now, if Lewberg said he had a guy, then he had a guy.

But that didn’t stop me from saying, "Seriously?"

And Lewberg said, "Pappy, do I lie?"

"What's the story?" I asked. So Lewberg told us.

I call Allie.

"Listen," I say, "I've got an idea."

"Did you write the story?"

"I'm working on it."

"So, what's your idea?"

"I'm thinking that the beginning of the Masters story is way more interesting than the end."

"The beginning?"

"Yeah, you know, how Lewberg met the guy at a poker game. How he loaned him money after losing an all-in bet. That story has everything. It has intrigue. It has infidelity."

"Infidelity?"

"It could have infidelity. Big gambler. Cheats on his wife."

"Just write the story."

"But the intrigue?"

"Write the story."

So, Lewberg and Goldfarb went to Georgia three days early and made a trip of it. But I couldn’t go early with them because I had a friend staying over.

"Let him fend for himself," Lewberg argued.

"I can't," I replied. "He's coming from San Francisco to see me. I'm already ditching him for a day and a half."

"3 pm tee time," said Goldfarb.

"Once in a lifetime."

"I know, I know. I'm taking the first flight out. I will have plenty of time."

My friend Gary didn’t golf but he understood. He owned a TV. Besides, he was staying a week, so we would have plenty of time together. He had some meetings set up and was going to see his mother-in-law. I had offered him the use of my car.

He was great company. Loved my radios. Was easy to entertain.

He was very amused that I had gotten everything ready a few days in advance. My clubs were already in the trunk because I had decided not to golf in the days before for fear of tweaking my back.

"Aren't we excited," he said with a laugh.

"I still can't believe I'm going," I replied.

"Tell me again why you aren't taking an Uber."

"I don't trust anyone at that time. I got screwed before. I'm going to drive myself."

He was a good guest, but I was a little irritated that he had come empty-handed. Staying with me for a week and nothing. We ate every meal at the club or ordered in. I never saw his wallet.

"You can't say that!" exclaims Allie.

"What can't I say?"

"That he's cheap," she says.

"But he is cheap," I retort.

"That might be, but you'll hurt his feelings."

"Jesus. You told me to write the story."

"Yes, but you don't need to be mean. At least change the name."

"Everyone will know who it is."

"That's not the point. You should change the name."

"Ok, ok."

"And the city."

"Sheesh! Ok."

So, my friend Billy was visiting from Los Angeles.

For some reason, Billy did not seem the least bit bothered about freeloading. If anything, he seemed positively giddy about it.

"Look. I'm not going to change the name," I say, "it's stupid."

"You're stupid," says Allie.

Gary asked to borrow my car one more time. It was the evening before I would be leaving to go play Augusta National.

"I need the car in the morning," I said.

"I'll be back in a few hours."

He was now grinning from ear to ear. I remembered why he was such a lousy poker player. True to his word, he was back a few hours later. He came into the house and told me to wait in the bedroom.

I said, "Gary, if it's a hooker, you've wasted your money. I'm not taking any chances the night before I play Augusta."

"Just go wait."

He told me to come out, and I saw the surprise. I felt really shitty about calling him cheap. It was a Grundig Majestic console. I knew the radio. It was a 1958 floor radio with a stunning wood finish. It was absolutely gorgeous. It was also not cheap.

"How did you carry it into the house?" It had to have weighed a ton. He showed me the trolley. "I borrowed the trolley from Fernando."

I was absolutely flabbergasted. It might have been the nicest and most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given me. And Lewberg wanted me to ditch him. I gave Gary a hug.

"And it works too," he said with yet another toothy grin.

So, we listened to it for a while until I said, "listen, I hate to blow you off like this, but I have a very early morning flight."

"Get a hole in one," he said. Maybe he didn't own a TV after all.

"So, what do you think?"

"What do I think about what?" asked Allie.

"The story."

"That's not the story," she said.

"Yes, it is," I retorted.

"No, it's not. It is only part of it."

"Most of it."

"Not the story," she insisted.

"But it ends so beautifully. Didn't you love that hug?"

"Love the hug. Finish the story."

I didn't sleep. Of course I didn't sleep. I was too excited. Way too excited. Didn't matter. I would sleep on the plane. Two-hour flight. Two-hour Uber (I know, I know, but I couldn't waste time at the car rental place) to Augusta from Atlanta. Easy. I had left myself tons of time. There was no traffic to Fort Lauderdale Airport at that time of the morning. I made great time. Not once did I think that I should have taken an Uber. Until I opened my trunk. Where I had put my clubs. Which were no longer there. Didn't take me long to figure it out. Despite upcoming evidence to the contrary, I am not a complete idiot. Gary had taken out the clubs in order to make room for the Grundig console. And, I am being charitable here, in his eagerness to show me his gift, forgot to replace them.

"Here's the thing," I tell Allie.

"What's the thing?" she says, now a little irritated.

"Unless you play golf, you can't really understand the relationship a golfer has with his clubs."

"Am I to understand that you've reached the part of the story where instead of getting on the plane and playing with rental clubs, you decide to drive back to Boca to get your own clubs?"

"Yes."

"That is my favorite part," she says.

"The thing is, unless you play golf, you're going to think I'm an idiot."

"Ya think?"

"I love my clubs. I know my clubs. I didn't want to play Augusta with rentals."

"So, you should write that."

"People are going to think I'm an idiot."

"I'm pretty sure most people already think that."

"I had lots of time to spare."

"Bye."

So, I called Gary. Voicemail. I called him 10 times. Voicemail. Goldfarb and Lewberg were already in Georgia. Who else? Maybe Art. It was pretty damn early. I looked at the time on my phone. I could make it. It would be close. But I could make it.

Ok. So I didn't make it.

I hadn't counted on the accident on the Turnpike. Or there being no other flights to Atlanta which would have gotten me there on time. The golf bag was right next to the door where Gary had left it. Was almost impossible to miss. Almost. I walked into the house.

"Hey," said Gary, "aren't you supposed to be golfing today?"

"Got rained out," I said, "thunderstorms all day."

"What a shame," he said. "Well, I'm sure you will have other chances."

"Sure," I said.

I glanced over at the Grundig.

"Beautiful radio," I said.

"You should have seen the look on your face," he said. "It was really worth all the trouble." "Yes," I replied, "it really was."

"Let's go get some food," he said, "'I'm guessing that you're buying."

"Absolutely," I replied, "you've already done more than enough."

The End