Banking on a Dream: Part 1

Dear readers, from Little League to the PGA Tour, sports dreams start young. But while most Little Leaguers eventually hang up their cleats, golf offers a unique torture - the Monday qualifier. Week after week, these tournaments dangle a chance at glory in front of every dreamer willing to post an entry fee. In the late 1970’s a former junior champion turned teaching pro named Bodie "White Lightning" Brooks became obsessed with these qualifiers. What started as a young boy's dream of Augusta green would lead him down a path that turned country club fairways into getaway routes, and practice rounds into something far more dangerous. This is the story of a man who decided that if he couldn't qualify with his score... well, let's just say he found another way to make his mark on tour.

FBI Special Agent Johnny Colorado knew all about golf dreams and their limitations. A former Ohio State golf team captain who chose a badge over a tour card, his office looked more like a shrine to the PGA Tour than a federal workspace. Signed flags adorned his walls, a putting green occupied the corner ("for clarity of thought," he'd tell his superiors), and his coffee mug read "I'd Rather Be Reading Greens." His colleagues tolerated his golf fixation the way you tolerate that playing partner who insists on telling you about every shot of their club championship round – with polite nods and quick exits.

"Got another one," groaned Assistant Director Angelo Pappas, dropping a fresh case file on Colorado's desk. "Fifth bank this month. Different state, different jurisdiction. Clean, professional, no witnesses. Perp rolls up in a white Cadillac convertible, bold as brass, then vanishes like a girl in a bar when you start talking to her about golf."

The robberies were spreading across state lines faster than gossip at a ladies' member-guest. Georgia one week, Ohio the next, then suddenly California. The only consistent elements were the white Cadillac and the curiously modest, identical amounts – as if someone was working from a very specific budget.

As for our mysterious bank visitor, nobody would have guessed it was Bodie Brooks behind that perfect posture. Known as "White Lightning" during his days as a junior champion and teaching pro at several prestigious DC-area clubs, Bodie caught tour fever bad. He started chasing Monday qualifiers across the country with the same intensity that some chase the perfect wave. Some said he had more talent than sense, others whispered he had neither. But nobody could deny his determination.

Meanwhile, back at the FBI's bank robbery headquarters, Agent Colorado threw out a theory. "Look at his posture on the security footage," he said during one review session. "It's almost like a... you know, a golfer setting up for a shot."

The bullpen erupted in laughter. "A golfer?" Agent Tyler "Roach" snorted. "Come on, Johnny. Golfers are trust fund babies and country club kids who summer in the Hamptons. They don't rob banks – they own them!"

"Besides," Pappas added, chomping on his signature toothpick, "what kind of golfer would be desperate enough to risk federal time? They all have daddies who can buy them a spot on tour."

Then came the curious detail from Memphis. Reviewing the grainy security footage for the hundredth time, Colorado noticed something in the suspect's gait as he exited – a slight slip on the polished bank floor, followed by a peculiar recovery step. When he interviewed the teller, she mentioned something others had dismissed: "There was this clicking sound when he walked out, like tap shoes almost."

"Metal spikes," Colorado announced to the task force, earning more eye rolls than a three-putt on the first green. "Our guy is wearing golf shoes."

"Golf shoes?" Pappas wheezed between laughs. "What's next – did he mark his deposit slip with a ball marker?"

"He's not just robbing banks," Colorado pressed on. "He's following some kind of pattern, and I bet my Powerbilt Citation driver that it has something to do with golf."

The room erupted in the kind of laughter usually reserved for someone claiming they shot even par with three provisionals. "Right," Pappas managed between chuckles. "Next you'll tell us some former club pro is funding his tour dreams by knocking over banks across state lines!"

But that evening, as Colorado slouched in his favorite recliner, surrounded by crime scene photos and something else his colleagues had dismissed – a 1977 PGA Tour schedule – something caught his eye on the golf broadcast. As Jim McKay discussed the upcoming tournament schedule and qualifier locations, Colorado's coffee cup slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor like a rookie's nerves on the first tee of Q-School.

"Sweet suffering shanks," he whispered, scrambling for his files. "It can't be that simple... can it?"

To be continued next week in Part 2 where we'll reveal how Agent Colorado's golf obsession cracked the case wider than a driver face on a counterfeit club, and why sometimes the longest shots in golf have nothing to do with distance.

Poll Question

OUR COMMENT CONTEST IS BACK! VOTE IN THE POLL AND LEAVE A COMMENT - THE BEST COMMENT WILL WIN A SWEET PRIZE ANNOUNCED NEXT WEEK!

Last Week's Poll Result

Can you spot a cheater when you see one?

🟨🟨🟨🟨🟨⬜️ Not really, I look to find the good in people (10)

🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩 Hell yeah I can, and they're all around us! (11)

🟨⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ Only when I look in the mirror! (2)

It was nearly 50/50 between those who look for the good in people and those who are convinced everyone is out to scam them - but what we are interested in is learning more about the two that voted for the mirror!

Things are going to get more interesting - and Special Agent Colorado is going to make or break his career on one hell of a hunch!

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