You don’t hear much anymore about Roberto DeVincenzo. He was once a tough but far from champion Argentine golfer. Some years back he surprised everybody by winning a tournament. As usual, they gave the winner his check on the eighteenth green. Roberto flashed a smile for the cameras and walked alone to the clubhouse. In back, where his car was parked, a sad-eyed young lady walked up to him. “It’s a good day for you,” she said, “but I have a baby with an incurable disease. It’s of the blood, and the doctors say she will die.” The golfer paused. In slow English, he said, “May I help your little girl?” The woman’s face froze. He took out a pen, endorsed his winning check and pressed it into her hand. “Make some good days for the baby,” he said.
A week later, he was having lunch in a country club when a PGA official approached. “Some of the boys in the parking lot told me you met a young woman after you won the tournament.” DeVincenzo nodded. “Well,” said the official, “I have bad news for you. She’s a phony. She has no sick baby. She’s not even married. She fleeced you, my friend.” The golfer looked up. “You mean that there is no baby who is dying without hope?” he said. The PGA official said, “that’s right.” DeVincenzo grinned and said, “That’s the best news I’ve heard all week!”
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[Original illustration at this number was added to HolwickID #19164]