Clancy on the Green

The outlook wasn't happy
For the Duck Hook Club that day.
The crosstown match was even
With but one hole more to play.

Their champion was Clancy,
And in him they placed their trust.
But somehow Clancy now was tied;
The 18th was a must.

When Clancy strode up to the tee,
His visage was enough
To tell his fans they'd naught to fear ---
But Clancy found the rough.

Some Duck Hook patrons groaned aloud,
But, pluckily, the rest
Clung to the hope eternal
That springs in the human breast.

They knew that Clancy didn't fear
Tall grass or hidden lies;
They knew his booming second shot
Would sear the summer skies.

So when his dread opponent split
The fairway with his drive,
The faithful smiled. They know it would
Make Clancy come alive.

There was ease in Clancy's manner,
And a grin caressed his face.
There was nonchalance aplenty
As he stooped to tie a lace.

His takeaway was classic
And his downward stroke was true.
At impact, no one doubted
Mighty Clancy had come through.

Majestically the shot took wing,
And, with uncanny sense,
Flew flagward through the gentle air
As Clancy's foe went tense.

But then, a sudden gust of wind
Sprang up and caught the sphere,
And dropped it in a trap, from which
It did not reappear.

A roar of pure frustration sprang
From all the Duck Hook lungs,
But Clancy raised his hands and stilled
The venom on their tongues.

Then Clancy's foe, upon whose lips
A sneer was clearly seen,
Drew back his iron and coolly struck
The ball --- well past the green.

A gasp of passionate relief
Escaped the choking throats
Of those who'd feared they'd have to write
Large promissory notes.

But happiness is fleeting
In this cruel and callous world;
The flags of hoped-for victory
Must sometimes be refurled.

O heartless fate! The dreaded foe
Produced a pitch-and-run
The likes of which the Duck Hooks
Had seen precious few --- or none.

The loathsome ball rolled to the cup ---
Look in --- and all but dropped.
A chill swept through the Duck Hook clan.
Their breathing all but stopped.

The hopes of Duck Hook sank.
In fact, they could not be much sunker.
Could Clancy get it up and down
When buried in the bunker?

They watched as Clancy ground his feet
Into the powdered loam.
Some Duck Hook members closed their eyes,
And some wished they were home.

Then Clancy's wedge was flashing high,
Then downward digging in!
The pellet came to graceful rest
Just two feet from the pin!

Up from a gladdened multitude
Arose a joyous yell.
They heard it up in Heaven
And, doubtless, down in Hell!

The Duck Hook members went berserk,
With handshakes, hugs and kisses ---
For Clancy had a two-foot putt,
The kind he never misses!

There wasn't even any need,
They knew, to hold their breath.
One simple putt, and Clancy then
Would win in sudden death.

A beaming Clancy doffed his cap
To the euphoric sound,
Then calmly stroked his putt
To its appointment underground.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land
The sky is warm and sunny.
A band is playing somewhere,
And the world is milk and honey.

And somewhere men are laughing,
And women also --- but
There is no joy in Duck Hook.
Mighty Clancy missed the putt.