I alluded to The Corner King Classic (Version 15) in the last post.

What follows is a column that ran in another publication eight years ago.  Every syllable written then still hold true today.   With that said, I’d have to indicate that the four of us, the ones to gather next Friday, are very fortunate fellows.

Here’s to The Corner King!

Corner King Classic VII

By the time this story goes to print, the book will be written on the seventh annual Corner King Classic.  I get a kick out of this event every year.  When co-workers ask if I have any plans for this particular weekend, I just do my best Barney Fife and sniff a little bit as I shrug my shoulders and confidently tell them I am playing in a golf tournament.  Most react with raised eyebrows and nods of impression.  Upon this exchange, I walk away ready to bust a gut with laughter.

The seventh annual Corner King Classic.  Has it been that long?  Yes, I suppose it has.  Every year I play in this tournament at the New Salisbury Golf Course.  No other course would do.  It is close to where the Corner King lived and spent many weekend nights as king of the corner as he was parked at the Gulf turned BP station and held court over the old four-way stop in New Salisbury.

Malcolm Todd Lincoln, Sr. was one of the best friends I ever had.  He stood seven feet tall in his boots.  Lord he was big fella.  Nothing, however, was bigger about him than his heart.  He’d do anything for you at any time in any place.  He was the most gentle, even spirited person I ever knew.  Nine years after his death, I still find myself in lonely, quiet moments thinking about the good times we had.  I think about the last time I saw him.  I think about the last time I talked to him…it was on the phone.  “Later on, brother” were the last words he ever spoke to me.  I think about The Moody Blues concerts we attended together.  I think about the eulogy I gave at his funeral and what else I could have said.  I think about Malcolm Jr. and how I hope I can talk to him one day about his Daddy.  Though I don’t do it, some days I could still cry.

Without fail, I am quite certain I will once again get a little choked up at the first tee at New Salisbury Golf Course as I always make a short impromptu speech about the Corner King before the first player tees off.  I get to tee off first this year because I won last year.  This year, however, Gus is the favorite.

We gather at the first tee each year, the four of us: Mick Rutherford, Kelly Samons, Jason “Gus” Stephenson, and me. Like Corner King, we are all graduates of the North Harrison High School class of 1986.  How we’ve gotten to the seventh one of these things so quickly is a mystery.  How we have survived the laughter and the bad golf is an even greater mystery.

In addition to the laughter, two other things involved with the Corner King Classic have stayed intact.  Each participant gets a trophy at the end of the round of golf.  We have a first place trophy, a second place trophy, a third place trophy, and a fourth place trophy. We just trade at the end of the round.  As I said, I currently hold the first place trophy.  I have won it twice in the history of the tournament.  One other staple of tradition we hold to is to have a ceremonial bite of SKOAL at the first tee.  In our younger days, we chewed acres of tobacco.  We relive that too.  In honor of the King, we all partake from the same can…believe it or not; it is one the more emotional moments of the day.  When that seriousness is over, however, it’s every man for himself and you’d better keep your head up.  Who knows where that little white ball is going?

The Corner King Classic has made its own memories.  Every year Gus says I am the favorite.  One year, as he was teeing off first in defense of his title, his shot took a 90-degree angle to the right and hit the shed they keep their golf carts in.  After my side quit hurting from laughter, I told him maybe I was the favorite.  I also remember the time Mick was playing with an orange ball and finding that thing was like an Easter egg hunt in all the leaves.  Kelly always takes his sweet time sizing up his shots only to use the word “dagnabbit” every third shot.  One year I rolled in a birdie putt at number eight off the fringe only to lose three balls in the woods off the following tee.

What I remember most is the Corner King and knowing we play in a classic because he was one.