Extreme Sports

Who???? - Don't Know What This is Called (White label with REP05 on the runout. This from side marked A2, and it's the second track. Any ideas?)

He was sixteen over par on this hole but he knew they could still take the course. To be perfectly honest Kenneth understood that it wasn't accepted as good form to play the gentleman's game in this manner, but there was no way to take back the bet now without losing face. Clive steadied his bearing, loosening his legs and then removed them to swap for a lighter pair. Now feeling sufficiently readied he lined up his shot and charged at the tee, yelling at the top of his voice before pounding the ball in an over-head swing that sent it flying in shards at every direction. Perhaps one would fall into the hole, certainly, but this would be a side effect to the overall game plan. Clive, tapping the side of his nose knowingly, let Kenneth take over, who, not breaking his stare at the opposition for a split second, took an easy swing at the ball, knocking it heavily toward the little windmill, where it struck, rebounded, and hit his panting teammate square on the forehead. With a single raised eyebrow Kenneth stepped back, and, still holding eye contact, fell into a pond. "Now" said Clive, as he regained consciousness, "are you absolutely sure you can take the pressure? You can back out any time, no grudges." "Absolutely not" replied Keith, selecting his No. 3 glove from the briefcase while Jeff polished the custom heel-toe putter with a chamois leather. Yet when Keith took the club in his hands, looked at the hole and began to weight his grip, the first crack in his ice-cool demeanour began to form. Just out of the corner of his vision, to the left, Clive took out a battery-operated hair-dryer and started to dry Kenneth's sodden trousers, and Keith's top lip ever-so-slightly gave in to an involuntary twitch.