I was shot down by a fifth ball, which struck me squarely in the face, and passed out.

When dad told me Mr Steptoe had passed away, I broke down.

Boyer was the glue. He handled the ball, passed the ball (well) and when he shot, he scored. He was the glue for them.

We had some slippage. We were careless with the ball, our shot selection wasn't as great, but when the game was on the line, we got back and sucked it up.

Ooh, he just shot himself in the face.

I haven't looked for a golf ball since mulligans were free, which was a law I passed in 1995.