Rock and his brother John were swinging golf clubs at dusk in the five-acre, rolling lawn of a red brick apartment building in St. Louis. John lived there with his wife and five children.
For several minutes they took practice swings, until John teed up a ball and swung away with a fairway wood. He made poor contact. The ball traveled low, fading across the lawn toward a house about a hundred yards away. It stopped in hedges that ran around the base of the house.
"I've done that before," Rock said. "I'm sure you were sweating out whether it was going to break a window."
John laughed and said that was exactly his fear.
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