“You’re right. I am playing well in spite of all this crap. I can still win, can’t I?” “Hell, yeah,” Buddy said. The ball, barely visible, was nestled among the roots of the thick, deep grass. “I think I need a shovel instead of a club for this shot,” Reid said, looking worried. “You can do it, just relax.” Reid nodded. After two practice swings and a look down the fairway, he hit the ball with gusto. It was the perfect recovery shot, landing in the fairway with an excellent approach angle.

Howard’s second shot, however, had a tough approach to the green. He would have to hook his shot around the trees to get close or punch out to line up his next shot. After a brief discussion with his caddie, his decision was obvious; he was going for it. After a practice swing, he lined up and hit an excellent shot that hooked around the trees and landed just in front of the green. The crowd cheered as the ball rolled up onto the heavily sloped, closely shaved bent grass, toward the hole. But as quickly as the cheering began, it quieted as the ball slowed almost to a halt then turned and started trickling very slowly backward. The crowd watched tensely, sighing as the ball picked up speed and rolled off the green, finally stopping about eight yards away.

Reid couldn’t help but empathize as Howard’s head slumped. On the way to his own ball, all he thought about was overcoming the sloping green. He needed to hit a shot that would bounce just in front of the pin with enough backspin to stop the ball but not enough to repeat Howard’s roll-off.

Reid took a practice swing. He looked from the ball to the hole and back again, adjusted his grip, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He swung hard and hit the ball, taking a huge divot with it. The ball arched high in the air, bounced in front of the hole, hit the pin and dropped in the cup. Reid just smiled and laughed. He couldn’t believe it himself. The gallery cheered; the loudest commotion came from right next to the green. Betsy, Hunter, Buck and Carl were high-fiving and carrying on like kids. It was a pretty funny sight. Reid laughed until the announcer asked, “Quiet, please.” They all quieted down, the girls finding it hard to hold back their excitement.

Howard chipped close and tapped in for par. Reid’s birdie put him two shots ahead. As they walked off the green, Buck approached Reid and said, “Come walk with me for a minute.”

Reid sent his sisters on to Eagles’ tent, telling them he’d be there in a few minutes. Reid and Buck walked away from the crowds. Reid noticed that two guys were following them.

“I’m proud of you,” Buck said. “Most people would have crumbled under this kind of pressure.”

“Luckily, my score is not reflective of my emotions. Believe me, I’m feeling the pressure. I’m a wreck, Buck.”

“I’ll bet you are. Just stay strong for the back nine, then we’ll get out of the crowds and lay low for awhile. Now, I’m sure you noticed we have some company behind us. Let me introduce you to Joel and Stu.” Buck waved the guys over. “Joel, Stu, this is Reid Clark; Reid, say hello to Team One, your primary protection.”

“Hi, guys,” Reid said. “Let me just say ahead of time, I’m not a happy camper at the moment; I’m not comfortable with anyone following me around. I know you’re here for my protection and I appreciate it. But, I’ll warn you now, I have a tendency to snap at people whether they deserve it or not. I’m sure it’s going to happen with you at some point, so try to put up with me. If I live through this, you’ll both be paid generously when we catch this jerk.”

“Mr. Clark, we have already been warned of what to expect from you,” Joel said. “We have both seen you on TV enough that we really didn’t need the warning. We understand what you are going through. We will do our best to stay out of your way, unless it’s necessary to do otherwise.” Then his tone changed to one of pure intensity. “But, understand one thing. No one, and I mean no one, is going to get near you on our watch.”

They did not look much like bodyguards. Instead of bulging muscles, both men were tall and lean. Not an ounce of fat could be detected on their tight, muscular frames. Reid soon learned that they were highly qualified for their jobs. Both were Navy Seals. Each was a high-level marksman and had several high degree black-belts in martial arts. They had been on reconnaissance teams in the Middle East and had been on various presidential security teams. He also found out that they were costing him a fortune. Well, he thought, if I’m going to have bodyguards, they may as well be the best money can buy.

Buck had already fitted Joel and Stu with the same uniforms worn by all the volunteers working the tournament: golf shirts and caps with the Master’s logo, and khaki shorts. They would blend right in. No one could possibly guess they were bodyguards trained to kill.

The four of them walked to the tent and found the girls and Buddy at a picnic table. “I hate to rush you, but we only have five minutes,” Buddy said.

Buck introduced Joel and Stu to Buddy and the girls. He told them they were sports psychologists and were going to help Reid maintain his concentration on the back nine.

Buddy tilted his head in doubt. He knew better but kept his mouth shut. “You guys better get going,” Buck said. The four men stood up. Betsy gave Reid a hug and said, “Good luck. I know you can do it.” Hunter then hugged him and whispered in his ear, “Win this one for

Dad.” Reid smiled at her and said to the group, “I guess it’s show time. See you in a little while.” They walked toward the 10th tee box.

Reid was actually feeling pretty good. Ahead by only two shots, he had some work to do. Although the back nine was known to be much more difficult, he liked it on this course more than the front. He counted on it to intimidate the other players into making mistakes, giving him a chance to increase his lead. All things considered, he was fairly loose, but he had not been able to get into the zone on the front nine. He needed to now, in spite of the circumstances.

Howard and his caddie were at the tee box already. The twosome in front of them had just hit their second shots and were walking toward the green.

Given the okay, Reid teed up his ball and took a few practice swings to loosen up. He focused on the ball and said to himself, “It’s now or never.” He swung his club and hit one of his best drives of the day. He turned and made eye contact with Buck and the girls. He smiled and winked. Betsy gave him the thumbs-up.

Howard also hit an excellent drive, not as long as Reid’s, but then, no one hit as long as Reid. They started walking, and the gallery fell into motion behind them. Reid parred the next few holes. After having birdied two of the holes, Howard was now alone in second place. Reid maintained his two shot lead with five holes to go. He was finally in the zone.

The number of tournament security guards and volunteers assigned to their group had doubled since the morning. Most of the spectators on the course were now following Reid and Howard. The increased security was doing its job of keeping the crowd fairly quiet and behind the barriers. The hecklers had given up for fear of getting thrown off the course as the match neared its end. Even the reporters and camera crews were staying well out of the way.

The 14th hole was a soft dogleg to the left. Reid’s tee shot was a little too long. He now had a large tree in his path to the green. Howard’s shot, shorter and further left than Reid’s, left his next shot wide open. He hit it perfectly. Reid studied his shot and asked Buddy. “High or low?” “If you try to go over, you won’t make the green,” Buddy said. “You have to punch it low.” “I agree. I guess I’ll use my three.” “Don’t take a full swing. Try about three quarters. Land it a little further than halfway to the green and let it run. You’ll need enough speed to make it over the last hill, but then the green slopes down to the pin. This is gonna be tricky, but you can do it.”