Instead of golf balls, they were hitting nearly flat, triangular shaped, two-inch sided pieces of particle board. Their wooden clubs were no more than three feet long and weighed less than a pound each. Rock's partner in an alternate-shot format had apparently hit a roughly fifty-foot drive. Rock found the triangle stuck in the fairway, which ran through the front yard of a house in Galveston, Texas, where Rock had lived with his family as a child.
"Those things are hard to hit," Rock's teammate said.
Rock could tell from the feel of his warmup swing that he faced an impossible task. He took a full, weak swing, devoid of any force whatsoever, and the triangle traveled two feet at most.
"Wait a minute," Rock said. "I'm calling bullshit. There's no way you hit this fifty feet."
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