My Uncle Ed no longer plays golf. His physical ailments keep him off the course and mostly in his leather recliner. This chair is no ordinary chair. In addition to cup and magazine receptacles it has a retractable "snack tray" and stereo speakers in the headrest.

At the flip of a switch on the Space Ship remote control, he can order heat or shiatsu message be applied to pre selected areas of his now substantial body.

He will not let me sit in his chair.

The Golf Channel has been his almost constant companion since he "took up residence" in the "Command Center."

Not surprisingly, Ed talks to the TV. Having once been a six handicapper he knows whereof he speaks.

He has just now begun a running commentary of today's coverage of the Zamboanga Invitational Tournament from, of all places; The Zamboanga Cricket Ground and Country Club.

The coverage will be mostly of the last four holes since some of the coaxial cables got lost in transit and the producer had to go with what she had.

The track is just under 6,200 meters and play today is from the ebony Championship tees.

Number 16 is a challenging par three playing to about 150 meters.

Number 18 is a good finishing hole; par five with an alligator pond situated right in front of the narrow green.

For the final day, the pin is set at 12 in and 6 right.

The camera coverage keeps switching from the leader to his nearest competitor who is only two strokes back and charging.

The leader is in the twilight of a mediocre career. Ed once played a round with him in a Pro Am and reports that -- "He's an OK guy."

What follows is a brief window into Ed's world.

Op - Ed:
“I can’t believe he went with the driver off the tee!”
“OK, what are you gonna do now?”
“Wow, nice shot!”
“Get legs baby!”
“This guy goes birdie, birdie and pars in, he wins it”
“Ooh no! lipped out”
“Everybody’s using those belly putters now”
“Hey kid, you want a beer?”

Uncle Ed calls me "kid" even now. We go way back, Ed and me. After my Dad died, Ed sort of became a surrogate father. He introduced me to the game of Golf.

Ed let me use an old set of beat up "blades" that were gathering dust in his garage.

Since I fell for all the new technology, I've lost track of those old clubs and their leather bag that I carried around that ancient course. That’s where Ed taught me the game.

It's an "upscale" condominium housing development now.

Many of the things Ed taught me then are still part of my everyday life; especially the part about keeping an "honest score" on the card and in my life.

Ed has fallen asleep, so I'll leave quietly out the back door. I hope he knows how much I admire and respect him. I probably should tell him. One of these days, maybe tomorrow, I promise I will.

The OK guy got up and down from the right bunker and won it in a playoff.