Word: regalado
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Incredibly enough, Killer might have been right. The portable scoreboard read WEISKOPF -3, ELDER - 1, and REGALADO -5! Somewhere along the way, Killer and his man had picked up two shots on par and three shots on Weiskopf. Still Weichers or Hill could easily be even with or ahead of Regalado. And the young Mexican still had a tricky putt for a par. It seemed doubtful he would lead for long, if in fact he was leading...
...pressure was on Regalado. If he missed, he would have to fight Weiskopf--and maybe Weichers and Hill--shot for shot on the 18th. I was so close I could see the ants crawling madly around the dimples of his golf ball and the beads of sweat dripping from Killer's temples as he helped line up the putt. Regalado double-checked the grain of the green for a third and final time, then stroked his ball smoothly into the back of the cup. Once again, the crowd erupted. But this time it was Regalado who was gesturing "charge." Killer...
...wasn't convinced until much later in the press tent with Regalado babbling in pigeon English, "I was laakee. I potted. I was laakee," and the rain pouring down harder and harder, and the pot-bellied old schlock-slingers who had never left the press tent desperately trying to find out just who the hell he was and what the hell he was saying when he lapsed into Spanish, and Killer taking full credit for winning the tournament...
Which is, in fact, what Weiskopf did--but only after Regalado had himself birdied the par five finishing hole to wind up at six under par. Hill, meanwhile had blown four shots to par in the first ten holes, and could only watch glumly from the front edge of the 18th green as Regalado and Weiskopf holed their birdies to cut him out of first and second place...
...Malden so I could at least catch an occasional, deodorized glimpse of the action as seen over the Sumo wrestler's armpits. By now, the situation had become impossible. The rain was falling even harder, and thousands of water-logged golf fans who had neither seen nor heard of Regalado 30 minutes earlier were cheering wildly, as if he had at last consummated Montezuma's revenge. My prediction had been correct: the 17th had been the decisive hole. But Killer had picked the winner--and he had salvaged my own personal victory over the schlock-slingers in the press tent...