Early on, I was shaking my head, wondering why he was using such an ugly putter. But, since he was my partner, it became a thing of beauty as he sank one putt after another from all over Farm Neck’s smooth surfaces.

The format was what is called a Shamble, where everybody hits from the tee, goes to the best drive in the foursome, then plays their own ball the rest of the way. Making it tricky was the fact that the golf ball could not be marked on the green.

If your approach wound up in somebody else’s line, or your putt blocked somebody’s path, they had to deal with being stymied. There was no continuous putting either. The person farthest from the hole putted, then the person next farthest took a turn, until all balls had been holed.

My team didn’t win or place, although we came close, an outcome which hardly mattered. The fun and the fellowship were second to none, and old Tom Martin game me plenty of reasons to want to go back.

You will invite me again, won’t you, Tom?

Sports editor Bob West can be e-mailed at rdwest@usa.net.