It's a Jungle Out There

A mini-golfer makes his way through the Hawaiian Rumble in North Myrtle Beach, S.C. (Bill Bamberger)

"It's starting to hit me," Matt said.

They parked, retrieved their putters from the trunk and made for the course. (Jim keeps his putter in a homemade protective quiver of PVC tubing that he spray-painted gold.) "All right, man, let's do it," Jim said. Matt touched Jim's outstretched fist with his knuckles.

"Let's knock 'em in," Matt said.

Inside, Matt and Jim walked quickly to the first hole and got to work.

The course was an orderly jungle of faux fern, croton and palm, lit by knee-high lamps with red, yellow, green and blue shades, which bathed the nylon-carpeted fairways with a pleasing candied light. A plashing bayou ran through the course, under the paddlewheel of a little clapboard millhouse.

While Jim and Matt were putting, an elderly man walked over and bade them hello. The front of his cap read, "Golf -- It's not a matter of life or death (It's much more

important than that)."

"George!" said Matt. "What's up, brother?"

"Hello, boys," said George McLeod, a retiree from Grand Rivers, Ky.

"Nice course," said Jim.

"Tough one, though," said George.

Several colleagues from the tour were on the course already, but they were too consumed with practicing to come say hello. Deep in the back nine was Astra Miglane-Stanwyck, a Latvian American medical translator from Mequon, Wis., who has won the women's division of the U.S. Open six times, and the Master's twice. Astra had arrived a day earlier, a source of trepidation for Matt. "She's gonna know all the shots," he lamented.