Professional golfer Tommy Bolt was playing in Los Angeles and had a caddy with a reputation of constant chatter. Before they teed off, Bolt told him, “Don’t say a word to me. And if I ask you something, just answer yes or no.”

During the round, Bolt found the ball next to a tree, where he had to hit under a branch, over a lake and onto the green. He got down on his knees and looked through the trees and sized up the shot.

“What do you think?” he asked the caddy. “Five-iron?”

“No, Mr. Bolt,” the caddy said.

“What do you mean, not a five-iron?” Bolt snorted.

“Watch this shot.”

The caddy rolled his eyes. “No-o-o, Mr. Bolt.”

But Bolt hit it and the ball stopped about two feet from the hole. He turned to his caddy, handed him the five-iron and said, “Now what do you think about that? You can talk now.”

“Mr. Bolt,” the caddy said, “that wasn’t your ball.”

Crossroads, Issue No. 7, pp. 15-16