Flapjaw Jim tilted back his bullet-shaped head on his scrawny neck and took a long pull on his beer. He cleared his throat importantly and addressed the crowded 19th hole bar:

”You shoulda seen the putt I sank on the last hole. A lotta guys choke on those downhill snakes; they’re afraid of hittin’ “em too far past the hole. But that”s for losers. I always RAM those downhill ten-footers. I don’t give “em a chance to break. I just give “em a good rap right into the back of the hole. Of course, that takes nerve, which some guys ain’t got!”

He snickered and gave Downtown Brown the elbow. The bar crowd groaned.

What causes the Choke?

Bald, built like a rassler gone to fat, Downtown Brown grandly waved his Popeye forearms and puffed on his cigar. “Fear!” he pronounced, “it’s fear that causes all these amateurs to choke. It’s all in the mind. You gotta have confidence that when you lay the lumber on that pill it is gonna eat up some by-God real estate!”

He turned to his elongated partner who seemed to be made entirely of angles and bones. “Like that drive I cut the corner with on the fifth hole, right, Flappy? Did that screamer break their backs or what? When is the last time you saw me choke on a clutch shot like that, huh?”

Flapjaw Jim leaned his tall frame back on the bar in casual disdain and inhaled another Bud. “Never, old buddy. That affliction strikes only the faint-hearted, never the bold and brave. Remember when poor old Dumbrowski went chicken at Pebble Beach last year on that 550-yard last hole? All he needed was a lousy eagle. But he took the gas and wimped out. Made a birdie and lost by one shot. Pure case of nervous apoplexy.”

An incredulous gasp from the Bartender.

He screwed up his face in his best imitation of a Jackie Gleason drunk and exploded, “Yeah, I seen it. Dumbrowski took the gas and went choke city!”

“Yep,” Flapjaw continued, “on that short little par five. Oh, he hit a pretty fair country drive, all right, and managed to scrape it on the green in two with a 7-iron, but he wimped out on the putt and left it three inches short. Had to settle for a bird!”