I won Benjamin half price – $500, not $1,000. That's my kind of bargain.
Gail literally saved me once. At the Moroccan airport. A man in a cloak kept jumping the line – every time a woman from the tour tried to check in. When it was our turn, the same man tried to push in. With a slight hangover, I grabbed him by his hoodie and moved him aside. That's when it all started.
Then Gail stood in front of me. A wall. She stopped the eruption without saying a word. "Don't you dare," she said. And here I am, saying, "Come on, you little shit." A tourism representative came running through the crowd, yelling, "Tourism! Tourism!" to calm things. We were taken to a room. When we finally got on the plane, everyone was already there – and that man was on another plane.
That's when I knew: she wasn't just my manager. She was my shield.
She always rang Sidney – my travel agent – at 3am when flights were cancelled. Sidney always answered. That's the team. Gail and Sidney. In the dark. Making sure I could keep going.
My father wanted to manage me. But every time I made money, he would ask for it and take it for his own benefit. So I chose Gail. My whole family was upset. Being right but being alone in it – that was hard.
Gail used to caddy for her father when she was younger. She learned the game from his side – not from the tee, but from the fairway, carrying his bag, watching his choices. That's why she knew when to speak and when to stay silent.
Her father was a great gambler on the golf course. He used to always put his money down – on a shot, on a match, on a feeling. Gail watched him risk. Watched him win. Watched him lose. She learned the thrill of the bet – and the cost. That's why she never gambled with my money. That's why she was steady when I was scared.
Her two sons had just finished school – video games in one room, an electric guitar in another. Later, Cass came – a golden retriever. Kiss Cass, I called her. That house saved me. Not just Gail. The noise of the guitar, the hum of the game, the wag of a golden retriever – and Benjamin, sleeping at my feet.
I won Benjamin half price. The breeder – Helen – and I played a foursomes match in Hastings. I asked: "If we win, can I get the dog for half price?" She said yes. We won. So I got Benjamin for $500, not $1,000. That was around 1991 or 1992. He was with me through the amateur years, the move to Manor Park, the decision to turn pro. He was my fresh air.
On good days today, Gail remembers the past. She'll say: "That's right." Or she'll say nothing – just look. And I know. That's right. I remember. That's enough.
From the day I met Gail, we have never parted. She has been my best friend ever since. If there was a day when I was unhappy, she was always there – to make me understand and get me back on my feet.