(///romantics.punk.topmost – Beeston Hills Putting Green, Sheringham, UK)
“It’s the greatest win in the history of The Open!” the commentator gushed, as Harvey Marshall strode forward to receive golf’s most famous trophy.
There was sustained applause and cheers as the 65-year-old amateur hoisted the famous Claret Jug above his head.
“Simply qualifying on his first attempt was enough for the romantics,” the commentator continued. “But then to lead from first to last and win by seven strokes, well I don’t know what to say.”
“The topmost achievement in all of golf,” his co-commentator suggested.
At his press conference later, Harvey charmed the journalists.
“How did you do it?” someone asked
“I made a pact with the Devil,” he twinkled back. Guffaws of laughter.
“Will you defend the trophy next year?”
“If I live that long!” Whoops of delight.
Tired but happy, Harvey eventually returned to his hotel room, set the trophy on the desk and sat down on his bed to admire it.
“Time to collect payment,” a voice near him said.
Harvey looked round at the Devil, reclining in an armchair by the window.
“That didn’t take long,” he replied ruefully. “Can’t I just have a few more minutes to enjoy the moment?”
“I’m afraid not. I’ve got a woman in a vegetable competition and a punk selling art waiting on me,” the Devil said standing up. “No rest and all that.”
Harvey nodded. His soul in exchange for immortality, albeit of the sporting kind.
On balance, it had been a deal worth making.
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