This backyard (in fact all of the backyards) was separated from the course by a 20 foot high chain link fence. Assorted broken toys, bikes, cast off lawn furniture, car parts, whole cars, and exercise equipment (like the kind you see in prison movies) littered the space. Did I mention the pit bulls?
This particular yard had two.
We froze in horror as a heavily tattooed man came out of his house. He stood at the chain linked fence, flexed his muscles and stared. At us. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.
Before I go any further, I want to point out that I did not take any pictures. I didn’t even think of it. But I have uploaded reasonable facsimiles to give everyone an idea of the setting.
And, here is a picture of a scary killer pit bull.
I answered, “No. Don’t be silly. You hit the ball way way past his yard. He’s just going outside for a workout or to play with his dogs. Just the same, why don’t you take a mulligan from here? (Free hit)”
But sometimes when you are on a fixed budget, you have to suck it up. The man continued to stand at the chain linked fence, flexing his muscles and staring. So, John hit another ball and we played through. Quickly. (That means using PGA rules, not Smith rules.) We were back in the car long before the sun went down!