Here's a teaser, the opening for my novel, No Mulligan. Read it and tell me if it reeled you in.

“So tell me Chance, how does it feel to have just won your unprecedented ninth tournament of the year and forth consecutive,” asked sports reporter Cal Mitchell.

            “I’m disappointed in my putting. I’m pulling too many to the right,” replied Chance Roberts, 24 years old and already a mega millionaire on the tour.

            “Chance, you set a course record in your final round today and were the sole leader all four rounds, and you played bogey free for the entire tournament. Your nearest competitor trailed you by thirteen strokes. You must be pleased with your performance.”

            “I missed the fairways on three and seven today. I should have left the driver in the bag and opted for my hybrid instead,” he replied, glaring at his caddy, Scooter Mac Grubber, obviously holding him accountable for the poor club selection.

            “Hilton Head is next. How do you see your chances for a three-peat for this tournament in your young career?”

            “I’m excited to be heading home and plan to spend time with my family in Charleston. I’ve got some work to do before Thursday, so if you’ll please excuse me, Cal, my pilot is burning fuel, waiting my arrival.” Scooter eyed Cal, just shrugged and then followed Chance towards the locker room.

            Cal Mitchell pressed the pause button and sat in front of the monitor, starring at Chance Roberts in freeze frame. It had been only a month ago since that interview. Boy how things had changed in the young gun’s life. Talk about the shot heard around the world, the sport of golf had reached a new viewing audience, only rivaled by those obsessed with the O.J. Simpson debacle. Cal, while excited, he mournfully dreaded his assignment. He had followed young Chance’s career from college prodigy until now, and like everyone else, he had envisioned him taking the sport to new heights. Hell he already had; the ratings and sponsorships were out the roof since he arrived on the tour professionally at age eighteen.

Ratings would peak to an even higher plateau, but sponsorships could take a direct hit. This could drastically impact the gentleman’s game forever. Time would tell how the public viewed the unfolding saga, but Cal’s gut told him that the sport of golf would never be viewed the same again, and this time for all the wrong reasons. Right now, he hated his job, but if he didn’t do it, someone else would, so why not make the best of it he figured.

Every sport had its dark secrets, too many eventually unfolded before the very eyes of those cheering on their favorite teams or players. Baseball had its Black Sox scandal of years gone by, and the steroid controversies which had impacted almost every sports venue, had tarnished many a sports figure and their accomplishments. Cal wanted to yell ‘Say it ain’t so, Chance’, but the ever growing evidence couldn’t be swept under a rug. It seemed more twists and turns leapt out at the news media every passing hour; almost too fast and furious to digest.

The tabloids were making a fortune, as were every major network. Unfortunately bad news captivates the audience much better than those warm and fuzzy stories. There certainly wasn’t anything warm and fuzzy about this one. Cal sighed at the irony in that thought; envisioning Warm and Fuzzy captioned over a tabloid article. 

The phone rang. Answering it Cal remarked, “You’ve got to be kidding me? Right, I’ll head over there immediately.” Hanging up, he jotted down the caption for his next story. DNA evidence reportedly links Chance Roberts to the scene of the alleged crime. Besides reporting sports for the recently launched new cable show, Sport’s Facts, Myths or Rumors, he also posted golf stories daily on his Cal Knows Golf Blog. Right now he dreaded doing both.