10 Best Cheap Golf Shirts

Best Cheap Golf Shirts in 2023

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The Long Train to the Clubhouse

Two strangers become friends over their love for golf on a train ride to the best clubhouse.

Henry Groverlan looked out of the train window at the crowd gathered on the landing watching passengers board. As he scanned the crowd with his weak eyesight, he noticed most of them were crying women.

The train lurched and slowly started its way out of the station.

Henry scanned the crowd again and thought he saw someone he knew. He focused his eyes as hard as he could to make out the face that drew his attention.

"Is that Carrie?" he said to himself. He tapped on the window with the handle of his cane. "Carrie," he said out loud. "Carrie, I'm right here."

He tapped on the window louder this time hoping his daughter would hear.

"Carrie," he shouted. Henry noticed that Carrie was crying too. "Women," he said shaking his head. "They can always find a reason to cry."

"Carrie," he yelled and tapped louder than the times before. "Don't cry, I'll be back in a week."

Henry Groverlan watched his daughter's figure grow smaller then disappear as the train gathered speed.

It wasn't long before the rhythmic rocking of the train lulled him to sleep.

* * *

Henry woke up from his nap to find a man sitting next to him.

"I hope I didn't wake you up, sir," the man said.

"I don't think you had any hand in waking me up," Henry said. He couldn't help thinking he knew this man sitting next to him but couldn't put a name to the face.

"My name is Paul Gracer," he said reaching out his right hand.

"Oh, of course," Henry said. "Gracer the Racer, pleased to meet you. I'm Henry Groverlan."

"Please to meet you too," Paul said. "Mr. Groverlan was it?"

"Just Henry," he said as he put his right hand out.

Henry stared at his hand for a moment as he was shaking Paul's. The swelling from arthritis in his knuckles had gone down noticeably and it didn't look so skeletal. He could clearly see the scars on Paul's neck and his right ear lobe was missing from the fiery crash at the Five-Hundred 15 years ago.

"That was one hell of a crash," Henry said. "My son took me to the race for my retirement present."

"It was almost my retirement too." Paul said rubbing the scar.

"Thought you were a goner that day," Henry said shaking his head.

"You weren't the only one," Paul said as he patted Henry on the left shoulder. "Believe me, I had my doubts if I was going to make it myself. But I did, and if it wasn't for the crash, I would have never discovered golf."

"Golf?" Henry asked.

"Yes golf, of all things," Paul said. "I had never even thought about playing golf until my doctor and therapists prescribed it. I guess you could say to get my mind off the track and racing.

"Better than most of the prescription given to me," Henry interjected.

"That's funny," Paul continued. "All I can tell you is it worked for me. I gained an appreciation of skill, peace and quiet and how to accept frustration and to overcome it. But what I really was unprepared for was the acceptance. This scar had made me extremely, I can admit now, self-conscious, and it seemed like no one cared about it. All they were worried about was if I had enough money to buy the drinks I owed and for the skins I lost."

Henry laughed along with Paul.

"Yep," Henry laughed. "That sounds about right."

"Do you play?" Paul asked.

"I did until this damn arthritis stiffened up my hips," Henry said. "And as long as we're admitting what we hate to admit, I have to admit I lost a lot of my zest for life when they gave me that damn cane." Henry looked down at his feet then at the seat next to him. "Do you happen to see my cane?" he asked Paul.

"No, sir, I don't." Paul said as he looked under the seat. "In fact, I didn't notice a cane when I sat down here."

"That's odd," Henry said. "I know I got on with it."

"Your attention please," a voice said over the train speaker. "Would passengers Groverlan and Gracer please come to the Club Car at the front of the train."

Henry looked at Paul, "Did you hear that?"

"Yes, I did."

"Wonder what that's all about."

"I don't know," Paul said. "Guess we can go and find out though."

"Your attention please," the voice over the speaker said. "Would passengers Groverlan and Gracer please come to the Club Car at the front of the train."

"Alright," Henry said in an annoyed tone. "You don't have to yell."

He looked at Paul, "guess I'm going to have to turn my hearing aid down." Henry reached into his ear. "What the hell, my hearing aids gone too. Damn it. Guess we better go before I lose my damn mind too."

"Okay," Paul chuckled.

Paul stood in the aisle and watched Henry slide himself to the edge of the seat.

"You may have to help me to my feet," Henry said shaking his head.

"Be glad to help, Henry."

Henry gripped Paul's right hand. He took a deep breath and effortlessly stood up.

"What the…," Henry said. He looked Paul in the eyes, "I haven't done that in years, and my hips don't hurt."

"Why don't you lead the way then, Henry," Paul said as he watched the old man gain his balance.

"You know," Henry said confidently. "I think I will. But you make sure I don't fall."

"Yes, sir," Paul said with a chuckle.

The two men slowly walked down the tight aisle toward the front of the train. It didn't take Henry long to get in sync with the side-to-side rhythm of the train's motion. They moved through the doorway leading into the next car. Henry was picking up the pace when the train lurched hard to the right then to the left. He lost his balance and stumble backward. Paul saw what was happening and reached out just in time to keep Henry from falling.

The lights flickered then they went out.

"Are you alright, Henry?" Paul asked.

"Yes--yes I am," Henry said with a bit of amazement in his voice. "Thanks."

"I don't remember a tunnel on this route," Henry said. "Do you?"

"I don't remember getting on the train," Paul said.

"What's that?" Henry said as he regained his balance.

"Never mind, Henry," Paul said. "We can talk about it over some drinks in the Club Car."

"Alright," Henry said. "It's darker than a witch's heart in here."

Just as Henry finished his words, he saw light from a distant car.

"That must be the Club Car."

"I think you're right, Henry," Paul said. "Do you still want to lead?"

"I think there is enough light coming from that car for me to see what's in front of me," Henry said without hesitation. "Yes, I will take the lead."

"Alright then, let's walk toward the light." Pete laughingly said.

Paul noticed the old man was walking faster and standing up straighter the closer they got to the lighted car. He also noticed a tingling on his neck and ear he hadn't felt in years.

"I was right," Henry said happily as he pointed at the Club Car sign on the door. "It's right in there."

"Well, let's go in and see what is going on."

"Right," Henry said as he pushed in the handle of the door.

The door made a vacuum like sound as it opened. The two men entered the brightly lit car.

"Can't see a thing," Henry said shading his eyes from the light.

"Me either, Henry," Paul said as he too shaded his eyes.

"Welcome, welcome gentlemen," a strong deep voice said. "Come right in and make yourself comfortable."

"Tell me you're hearing that too," Henry said looking back at Paul.

"I am, but I can't see anything," Paul said squinting through his fingers.

"Where the hell are you," Henry blurted out.

"I'm right in front of you," the voice said. 'Oh-- just a minute. Max, turn down the lights for Pete's sake."

The lights dimmed and Henry could see a tall blonde man standing not five feet away from him. He looked back at Paul again.

"You see him too?"

Paul shook his head "yes."

"Come on in and sit down at the table," the blonde man said while pointing at window table. "Your drinks are waiting on you."

Henry looked back at Paul again and shrugged his shoulders. Paul stood with his arms out and his palms up. Paul shrugged his shoulders too.

"Well, I am a bit parched," Henry admitted.

"I could use a drink myself," Paul agreed.

"Good," the blonde man said. "I am George Stapleton, and I will be your host for the rest of the trip. Why don't you gentlemen sit and enjoy your drinks while I tend to some last minute preparations."

George stood sideways and pointed with an opened hand at the table again. Henry walked passed George and tipped an imaginary hat.

"Thank you, Henry," George said politely.

Henry stopped. He looked back at the smiling blonde man, shook his head in disbelief and sat down at the table facing George and Paul.

"Thank you, George," Paul said as he walked past the blonde man.

"You are quite welcome, Paul."

Paul too stopped in his tracks, looked back at George then at Henry. Henry just shrugged his shoulder and lifted his drink.

Paul sat down at the table across from Henry. George walked up to the table and smiled.

"I shouldn't be too long," George said in his silky smooth voice. "I will have the waitress check on you. If you want another drink don't hesitate to ask. No Henry, there is no charge. So just enjoy each other's company for a while and I will be back to answer your questions."

With that said George walked out of the car through a door in the back.

"What the-how did he--," Henry said wide-eyed.

"I have no idea," Paul slowly said. "What's in your drink?"

Henry lifted his glass to his nose, "Smells like scotch. Very good scotch. And yours?"

Paul lifted his glass to his nose, "Whiskey. A very good Irish whiskey. Shall we drink it?"

"George said to," Henry said.

"Well then let's drink," Paul said as he lifted his glass towards Henry.

"Why the hell not."

The two men clinked their glasses and took a drink.

"Oh my," Henry said. "That is top notch."

"Mine too," Paul said. "Definitely real Irish whiskey."

After the men had finished half their drinks, Paul noticed Henry staring at him.

"What's the matter, Henry?" Paul inquired.

"Not real sure, Paul," Henry said quizzically. "I don't know if that light hurt my eyes or this scotch has gone straight to my head, but it looks like your scar is almost gone."

"What?" Paul exclaimed. He touched his neck. "What the-it does feel like it has gotten smaller. And your hair…"

"My hair?" Henry asked. "What about my hair, or the lack thereof."

"No really, feel it," Paul pointed at Henry's head. "You seem to have grown some brown hair."

Henry put down his drink and put his hands on the sides of his head.

"Son of a…"

"I know, it's like it is growing in front of my eyes." Paul said wide-eyed.

"Well, I'll be," Henry said as he touched his new hair. "And your ear; it's growing back."

The men stared at each other for a minute in silence and awe.

"Do you think it's the drinks?" Henry whispered.

"I don't know," Paul whispered back.

"Well, hell," Henry exclaimed. "I'm drinking this thing down."

Henry lifted his glass and emptied it in one gulp. Paul followed suit. They both slammed down their glass on the table and started laughing.

"Would you gentlemen like another?" The waitress asked.

Both men were startled a little by the waitress' presence. They quickly tried to gain their composure.

"Yes, we would," they said in unison and then started joyfully laughing again.

"I swear you are getting younger before my eyes Henry," Paul said still laughing a little.

"I know what you mean," Henry was snickering. "Your scar is gone and your ear is back and the grey is gone from your temples."

The two men again didn't notice the waitress approaching. She placed the fresh drinks the table and disappeared before they could thank her. They shrugged, toasted and took about half the drink in one gulp.

"You know," Henry chuckled. "I asked you where you were going and you never answered."

"To be honest with you, Henry," Paul said calming down. "I don't remember getting on this train. Last thing I remember is I was leaving the golf course then I was sitting next to you."

"That's odd."

"Don't I know it," Paul said. "And why are you on this train?"

"I was on my way to visit my brother's and father's graves," Henry said calmly. "They were my best golfing buddies. Dad got both of us kids playing when we were seven. I'm older by two years. Our Uncle, my dad's brother, and we were all in the same group when my brother, Jason, and I got out of high school. Jason played for the local junior college golf team. We'd play every weekend and in some scrambles too." Henry paused to take a drink then continued. "It was during one of our scrambles that the meaning of golf hit Jason and me."

"We were on the third hole of this scramble when a sudden summer downpour hit the course. My dad and uncle found a shelter to park in, but Jason and I parked under a large oak that sat on top of this large mound bunker. It wasn't lightning, we weren't stupid. We sat under that tree and drank a beer while we watched the storm go across the course. It stopped raining about as fast as it started. The sun immediately popped out and that's when it happened."

"We got out of our cart and looked at the course as the sun hit the grass before everyone got back to their spots. Not a cart mark on the course. It looked like a sea of diamonds. It was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. Jason walked over to me, put his arm around my shoulders and said 'This is why we golf.'"

A small tear crawled out of corners Henry's eyes. He took a sip of his drink. Paul reached over and clinked Henry's glass.

"Here's to your brother."

"Yes, to Jason."

"And that's why you gentlemen are here," George said. "For the love of the game of golf. In fact that's why all these people are here."

Henry and Paul were sitting on the veranda of a large club house under an umbrella that came out of the middle of a glass top table. They saw an immaculately tended golf course with dozens of people playing.

George smiled at them both, "The people here feel being on a golf course is heaven and the rest of life is the arrest of life."