The Horses Ass

The Horses Ass

I was in my office today playing on the computer when I looked up at a few trophies I’ve kept over the years, championships as a coach, bowling champions and odd ball football and basketball hardware, but one caught my eye, always has. It was the back half of a horse, and I won that baby fair and square and I display it proudly in my office, it is definitely a conversation piece.

I had my honeymoon at Lake Wohlford in Northern San Diego, a beautiful lake with small rustic, and more importantly, affordable cabins. This was the same place I slammed my ex wife’s hand in the Jeep door, and before you ask, yes it was an accident, but day one of wedded bliss, it was the precursor of things to come. Four kids and twelve years later she still remembered like an angry elephant, and I knew way back then, accident or not that act would haunt me.

The lake offered a bar with live music and a bit of trout fishing, which attracted about twelve to fourteen of us to host our own fishing tournament. It was quite the wild weekend, almost forty years ago. Yet it was atypical of Costa Mesa boys back then, a lot of bragging, a lot of drinking and very little action. Don’t get me wrong, we drank, played poker and threw horseshoes but the fishing wasn’t cutting it for us.

The usual characters were there, Tim Ure, Shawn ‘Bubba’ Wilson, Matt and guys like Gary and Steve Perez, and Jerry Bagwell, it was a thirsty wild bunch and the highlights didn’t include the fishing, especially for me.

Bubba did however win a musical chair competition at the bar and received a meaningless gift, yet the way he won always makes me smile. He of course ended up selling the stuffed animal he won for twenty dollars and bought a few pitchers.

It was a crowded competition, probably fifteen or so people and the finals came down to four hundred pound Bubba, maybe a trimmed down three fifty, and a local, that kid had no shot in hell to win. As the last song ended it looked like the local had beat Bubba to the punch, but a quick hip check sent the local sprawling across the floor, Bubba sat down casually and we nearly peed ourselves laughing. The kid complained that Bubba cheated, but those running the show looked up at Bubba and told the kid, “you want that gift, you tell him”, we never heard another peep.

We played poker and luckily I didn’t lose, much anyway, but it got wild and noisy from the get go. A lot of testosterone for such a small place. Bubba was driving his truck and tried pulling into the covered parking spot but didn’t contemplate his truck was a bit too high for the roof and wham, he smacked it but good. The fishing was slow at best, I believe the champions walked away with the winners trophies with two trout, not apiece, two total, but heck we weren’t there to fish anyway, it was a male bonding type of deal.

Most of us haven’t thought of this particular retreat in eons, but as I write the smiles and laughter still follow me. For the next thirty five years or so, Bubba, Tim and I made it to the June Loop every year and many guys took that trophy home, but Matt pretty much dominated when he became a regular. Sure I won it a few times, Valentine was always a strong contender and even Tim brought it home on occasion, but it remains in my office, a treasure I’ll never relinquish!

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