It’s Crystal Clear
By Iva E. Gall
Thompsonville, Michigan
It’s Labor Day weekend. The Northern Michigan nights
are just beginning to turn crisp, as the voices and sounds of
summer are beginning to fade away. Just a few of the Sugar
Maple trees are beginning their annual foliage display of
spectacular color that makes this area so popular for tourists
in the fall. As a leaf flutters slowly down in the clear blue,
sun filled sky and lands in the pool next to me, I can’t
help but to think of a month from now when this small quaint
town will be the center of worldwide attention as the Great
Northern Michigan Yoot Shoot rolls into town. On the eve of my
departure from the Crystal Mountain Resort & my suite in
the Kinlochen Lodge, I have nothing but confidence that this
is going to be the best GNYS ever. The host resort, the town,
and the local police force could not be more ready, as years
of experience of dealing with an event this large has finally
paid off. Every detail, even up to where to store the 4.5
million empty barrels of beer, and the � million dead
carcasses of the Black Angus that will be turned into beef
jerky are already taken care of. It is a preparedness level
that even the U.S. military would be proud of. My gracious
host and I this week, Jes Kantwaytoski (nicknamed the Crystal
Pistol) toured all Yoot Shoot facilities and both the Betsie
and Mountain courses. All were first class and in prime shape.
Even my host was in “prime shape” that at one point in my
visit showed me stars I didn’t know existed in our universe.
(And you thought Mars looked big…wait til you see this
specimen girls…Woooo-boy!)
I also met with the general
manager of the bar/restaurant, Sir Vah Tiltheydrop and
verified the YSAPP (Yoot Shoot Alcohol Preparation Plan) and
that the establishment is set to handle the requested beverage
order that each team fills out & is packed in each cart
for each Yoot Shoot tournament player. The YSAPP and the
requested order can take days to fill since each team requests
over 100 cases of beer, 25 bottles of alcohol, 16 box’s of
cigars, 8 cases of mixers, 10 lbs of fresh limes/lemons, 50
pounds of beef jerky, and 50 bags of ice.
I then ventured to the banquet
hall and met chefs Phil A. Minyon and Sue Flay to go over the
dinner menu and plans for the after tournament banquet. Since
this is a first for the GNYS, it is of utmost importance that
this go off without a hitch & to make sure all Yoots are
well taken care of. I also wanted to be sure to get an area
set aside that will be needed for the tens-of-thousands of
fans and autograph seekers that will converge on this facility
right after the tournament to get glimpses and autographs of
their favorite Yoot Shoot players.
And finally I met with the head golf pro, Hugh
Jateezchot and his staff to go over conditioning, turf heights
and pin locations for the tournament. As I toured the course
with Mr. Jateezchot and his head groundskeeper, Moe Whitlow it
is “Crystal Clear” that the course will be in excellent
shape and all of the facilities will be ready to go when the
Great Northern Yoot Shoot rolls into town.
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Yoots Descend on Crystal Resort
By
Iva E. Gall
Thompsonville,
MI
I awoke
this morning in my plush Suite in the
Kinlochen Lodge at Crystal Mountain Resort to
the view out of my window of snow flying
through the air. “Ahhhh…it must by time
for the Yoot Shoot” I thought.
I mean, when else can the weather turn
from 80-degree summer weather to 38-degree
winter weather overnight? Only the Yoot Gods
can pull off such a feat year after year.
After all, it is the weather that makes the
Yoot Shoot such a special tournament. Only
true golfers can withstand the severe
punishment of the extreme cold, hail, sleet,
snow, & rain to emerge victorious in the
end. Fair weather golfers…don’t have a
chance. Their “manhood” turtles up as soon
as they walk from their lodges in the morning.
So, I put on my wooly thong, and my wooly
brassiere over my golf attire and went out to
the pristine, quiet edge of the woods on the 1st
tee and wrote this tribute to the Yoot Shoot
as the sun arose through the pine forest.
Twas The Night Before The Yoot
By Iva E. Gall
Twas
the night before the Yoot Shoot and all
through woods,
the northern air was turning colder, which is
always understood.
The golf clubs were hung in the condos with
care,
in hopes that greener fairways would soon be
there.
The
Yoots were all nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of “Lord Yoots Cup” danced
in their heads.
Stumbling drunk and hung-over and really quite
a mess,
I busted into my room and flopped on the bed
for a rest.
When
out on the tee box I heard such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the
matter.
Away to the window I wobbled and stumbled in a
flash,
tore open the window and threw up with a huge
splash.
The
full moon on the breast of the new fallen
frost
gave a luster to the chunks that I had just
tossed.
When, what to my wandering eyes should appear,
a ghostly apparition of a man carrying a
12-pack of beer.
With
a golf bag on his back, wearing golf shoes not
boots,
I knew in a moment it must be Lord Yoot.
More rapid than eagles, his followers they
came,
He took a sip of his beer and called them by
name.
“Now
Bassie! Now Mr. Lucky!
Now Titanium and Tazbob!
On Louie! On Halfshank!
On, Cletus and Corncob!
From the undulations in the green!
To the dimples in the ball!
Now drink away! Drink away!
Drink away all!
As
dry as the leaves before the wild shots fly,
they meet with an obstacle, then pray to the
sky.
So up to the rooftop to view the course they
flew,
with jerky, and beer and Bloody Mary’s Too!
The
stars they twinkled, with the Yoots upon the
roof,
the course was a tough one, only a glimpse
needed to get proof.
As I looked out to the darkness and was
turning my head,
out on the roof came Lord Yoot, “I thought
he was dead!”
He
was dressed in golf attire, from his head to
his toe,
and his clothes were from another era, like
Larry, Curly and Moe.
An old leather golf bag was flung on his back,
and he looked a 1st time duffer, stoned on
Monkey Paw and Crack.
His
eyes how they twinkled, only thoughts of golf,
how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, which made him
look like a fairy.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a
bow,
To hold his cigar when he putts for dough.
The
stump of his cigar he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head just like
a wreath.
He had a tanned leathery face, and his
physique was like jelly,
narrow shoulders, strong arms, and a
beer-pot-belly.
He
carried himself with the stature of a Pharaoh
or a King,
on this rooftop this night, I swear I heard
the angels sing.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
soon gave me to know, we Yoots had nothing to
dread.
He
spoke not a word, and went straight to work,
Blessing all the Yoots, the Moonpies, even the
jerks.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up into the sky he rose.
He
sprang into his golf cart, and to his
teammates he gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a weapon of mass
destruction missile.
But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of
sight,
“Good Luck to all, and to all a good
night”!
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