Most would think it reckless
to play with Al Capone.
My grandfather had no choice:
the cost of being golf pro
at Capone’s club.
He could match Capone for swagger.
I see him happily demonstrating
the proper swing or kicking back
a few beers with the mob
at the clubhouse.
Would nerves crack
his resolve to win? Never.
He cared more about saving face
than saving his neck.
Golf owned him – a bigger addiction
than booze, cigarettes, or women.
Maybe, just maybe, Capone liked
finding someone else dead set