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Stan and I go way back, back to his start in the game (alas, I am partially responsible), back to his ex-wives and ex-girlfriends who have not survived his desperate search for mediocrity. Thinking of Stan’s golf game already has me unconsciously removing my cap and rubbing my forehead, something I am prone to do often in our hour of…what should I call it? Education? Instruction? Futility? No apt words of description come to me.