A Trip to the Pebble Beach Bing Crosby Pro-Am Tournament
Summary: The Grissom clan go to watch Aaron James Grissom play with his Dad at the Pebble Beach Bing Crosby Pro-Am Tournament. Aaron is 13. He has been playing golf with his dad since the age of five. Usually Aaron plays tournaments around the Nevada area and the west coast area. He has just started to fill out as he enters puberty and looks more like his father everyday. He has won his fair share of junior amateur golf tournaments when he enters the Junior World Amateur Championship.
Chapter 1: Chaos in Atlanta
They were all in Atlanta Georgia this week. Gil was walking around with his chest puffed out three times normal. Aaron Grissom was playing in the final stroke play match of this year's USGA Junior World Amateur Championship. Sara had bribed the terrible trio with an additional two weeks in Florida at Disney World, Busch Gardens, Universal Studios and Epcot Center. She just hoped that they wouldn't be banned from the state of Florida. Everyone in this family is a coaster aficionado except for me. Anyone who said boys were easier than girls never had to deal with triplets or with a Grissom clone.
Like this morning at the breakfast buffet...She had known that her family of 'men' would always draw attention. She still didn't understand how Gil became hotter and sexier every year. He worked part-time at the crime lab now. He definitely loved spending time with his boys. He would be sixty pretty soon. But he kept pretty active with swimming, playing golf with Aaron and keeping all four intellectually occupied. Women had never stopped giving her husband the once over and this morning four women had cornered Gil at the table to sign copies of that Sports Illustrated 'centerfold' from years ago. Aaron was looking more and more like his father every day.
She noticed that some of the attention was also being directed at her thirteen year old son. This made her uncomfortable on many levels. Perhaps because it meant her first born was growing up. But she had to admit she had a very handsome group of men. But then they do something like the Buffet Incident.
One of these days she was going to strangle her husband. But she shouldn't have relaxed the strip search regs for this trip. It was the first trip east for the triplets; she should have known that there were bound to be new 'bugs' they hadn't yet observed. And Gil damn him…sometimes he wasn't much more that a kid himself.
Gil and the boys had gone for an early morning swim. Even on trips Gil liked to put in at least ten miles a day. When the boys went swimming with him, he usually did five miles in the morning and 5 miles in the afternoon. At least the exercise helped the triplets burn up some of their excess energy. Aaron found doing the laps put him in the right frame of mind before a big tournament, and it helped him to burn off his excess nervousness.
As the five were walking back to the hotel, it was Gaetan who discovered the small swarm of beetles under an azalea bush. "Hey Dad. Look what are they? What are they?"
As Gil bent down and carefully picked up one specimen and examined it…"Yes this is a specimen of Popillia japonica…common name is 'Japanese Beetle'. We don't have these in Vegas yet but they are quite common in this part of the country. Come on your mom will be waiting on us and Aaron needs to warm up. We don't want to get on your mom's list do we?" Gabriel, Gage and Gaetan shook their heads vigorously; Aaron shook his head slowly and began to think some evil thoughts. He knew that they were going to Florida regardless what his mom had said to his brothers. But if his brothers were in trouble, he would have first pick of attractions. Besides it had been a while since everyone had had a good laugh. Things were too quiet.
He looked up and saw his father was a few steps ahead. "Hey guys, come here. You know mom really likes Japanese beetles. I remember she said how pretty they were when she went to school in Boston…she said they reminded her of the first time she met dad. You know how mushy they get…you know they are a lot easier to deal with when they are mushy…why don't we get some for mom…we might get to stay longer in Florida and they might leave us on our own if they get all lovey-dovey."
The triplets made faces. They knew from observing their friends' parents that they didn't go all kissy face at the slightest provocation; not like their parents. Why are parents so bent on making us look ridiculous? The triplets thought. And at their age too? Dad was ancient…at least that's what their friends told them…but long ago they decided they didn't care…they knew that they had the coolest dad in school…he was always there…he knew the neatest stuff about spiders especially tarantulas, bugs, dead bodies, he seemed to know everything…he could play baseball…they had discovered the stuff he had done in high school…and one day at little league they had begged him to throw a fastball like he did in high school.
So one day at practice he had agreed. The two coaches on the boys' little league team had agreed to participate…they hadn't wanted to endanger any of the boys.
They figured that he had exaggerated his accomplishments to his sons just like they did. The parents had heard about this…they all admired Gil Grissom's vast knowledge of baseball statistics but rarely pictured him as an athlete.
But one parent had borrowed a radar gun from the local college baseball team out of curiosity. Not a few of the men who attended the practices were a little envious of Gil's rapport with his sons and not a little jealous of the fact that Gil had triplets, in fact four talented sons.
They remembered Aaron Grissom's stint in little league; he had been a quite talented pitcher before he gave baseball up for golf.
Practice had finished for the day and Gil began warming up with the coach who volunteered to be the catcher. The other coach would be the batter. He had been quite good player in high school and college but had only lasted a year in the minor leagues. He would enjoy knocking the great Gil Grissom's pitches out of the park.
In the stands, the local sports beat reporter from the Las Vegas Times was sitting in the stands waiting for the festivities to commence. His son played on the same team as Gil's sons. He did some research prior to the demonstration and discovered the same information as Gil's sons. On a hunch he had brought a photographer with a video camera just in case this 'demonstration' materialized into a story.
Gil signaled he was ready and the batter stepped up to the plate. The first two pitches were fouled off. The radar gun showed 80 miles per hour. "Come on Gil is that the best you got?" The triplets saw the slight change in their dad's facial expression…they knew that look. "Ok, Chuck…all out." Gil set himself and threw the next pitch with a lot more velocity.
Chuck was a little wary and didn't swing. He was not a little scared that Gil might throw at him. The radar gun showed 90 mph. The sportswriter figured that this was going to be a story. He was pleased the cameraman had been filming all along. "Hey Gil is that the best you can do? Come on I want something to hit!" Chuck didn't sound so cocky now but he was stuck and had to play out his hand.
Gil winked at his sons and threw the next pitch very hard and inside. You could hear the sound of the ball hitting the mitt with a loud smack. Chuck fell on his butt he swung so hard. Frank who was the catcher pulled his hand out of the mitt shaking it. "God damn it Gil that hurt." The radar gun read 99 mph. The small ball field was wrapped in silence.
"I think that's enough…We got to be getting home guys, Mom's waiting dinner…Arm's a little sore anyway." The triplets gathered their bats and mitts and ran after their dad, their faces beaming. Dad was never a disappointment. Gaetan the youngest of the three triplets and always the most demonstrative turned around and pumped a fist skyward and let off a silent whoop.
"Sportsmanship…Gaetan…Sportsmanship." And the cheering could still be heard as Gil drove his sons home.
Gaetan smiled at that memory. That was earlier this summer. All three of them thought about lording over their teammates but they knew their dad wouldn't approve of that kind of behavior. So they didn't really say anything at all though it was hard. But they savoured the envious glances they received from their teammates and the newfound respect for their father. Now they had a chance to do something for their parents even if they got all kissy face.
So with Aaron's help, they loaded up their pants pockets with Japanese beetles and ran to catch up with their father.
"Sorry Dad. Gage had to tie his shoelaces again. You know how he is" Aaron said to his father.
"Ok we have got to hurry. We need some breakfast and you have to warm up. You are ready, focused Aaron? No pressure right?"
"No worries…Dad…no worries."
Gil looked at his oldest son with that 'what is going on here look'. Aaron was often the ring leader in the shenanigans that had been pulled by his four sons. The triplets managed enough trouble on their own; they didn't need their brother's superior ability to manufacture disaster.
Damn Aaron thought I played it a little too close to the vest…I am in for it now.
"What Dad...I'm clean I swear? Look nothing in my pockets…" he pleaded as he turned them out.
Pockets…Oh no…"Aaron where are the Gabriel, Gage and Gaetan? You didn't…Oh crap." He muttered as he ran for the hotel.
"Ah Dad that's a dollar for the swear jar." Aaron gleefully rubbed his hands together. "I still got it" He whistled as he sauntered towards the lobby and for what he was sure a chaotic breakfast buffet judging by the sounds of screams and crashing dishes. "Hey their pancakes and scrambled eggs aren't as good as Dad's anyway."