Scene from 1981 as a kernel of an idea bloomed into the EG POW Open
Poppa Of Badchu Swing Terrance Da Mangsays, Oh, my son Badchu Swing, golfers will come. They'll come to the EG POW Open for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up your driveway, not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. "Of course, we won't mind if you have a look around," you'll say. "It's only 65 dollars per person." They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it; for it is money they have and peace they lack.
And they'll walk out to the first tee, and sit in their golf carts in shirt-sleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved tee times somewhere on a great golf course, where they played golf when they were children and cheered their hero's Arnie, Jack and Ben. And they'll play the game, and it'll be as if they'd dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick, they'll have to brush them away from their faces.
Golfers will come, Badchu Swing.
The one constant through all the years, Badchu Swing, has been golf. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But golf has marked the time. This course, this game, is a part of our past, Badchu Swing. It reminds us of all that once was good, and it could be again. Oh, golfers will come, Badchu Swing.