“On a bright, smoldering afternoon late last week, the golf historians Bob Trebus and Rick Wolffe parked their sport utility vehicle…and walked through a rusted iron fence into a small cemetery behind a white steeple church.
“Do you remember where it is?” Wolffe asked.
“Trebus squinted. He scanned the field for a moment before pointing about a hundred yards out, beyond a stand of pine trees, toward a sunny plot of faded gray tombstones arrayed in a row. Among them, sitting up straight and dignified, one red basalt headstone somehow appeared to be in better condition than the rest.
“In memory,” it read, “of Boltus Roll.” Continue reading ‘The Ghost of Baltusrol’