One of the golfers on the pro tour some years ago was a pompous egomaniac with the emotional maturity of a six-year-old. He could do nothing wrong and always had a quick excuse for any loss: it was a lousy course, the other golfers were cheating, the weather was terrible, etc. As if these faults were not enough, he was also not above hustling a few extra dollars playing amateurs in cities on the tour for $50 a hole.
One day he was approached by a man wearing dark glasses and carrying a white cane who offered to play him for $100 a hole.
“Why, I can’t play you,” the professional protested. “You’re blind, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am,” replied the man. “But that’s all right. I was a state champion before I went blind. I think I can beat you.”
Now the conceited one had not been doing well lately--he needed the money. Anyway, blind or not, if the guy
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