The first edition of the Polar Bear Open at the Royal Golf Course last Saturday was quite a success. Nobody froze.

Play was brisk. The 36 of us started just after 10 a.m, and most of us finished before 2:30.

The reason play was brisk was that it was generally good. The worst score was barely three strokes over par at 75 for the team from the Columbia Basin Herald.

They were known only as team No. 8 at first. We realized who they were when they emerged from under their table.

The CBH team got the Thanks for Coming Award - a supply of pink balls. And those boys got to pay The Royal Register Boys $5 a man after TRR posted a 4-under 68.

Of course I cheated. I had publisher Harlan Beagley on my team. He's about 6-5 and big. His ball screams before he hits it and cries afterward.

I also had C.D. Hoiness of Moses Lake. He was recently hired full-time at the CBH. Hoiness is not big, but he's rock solid and powders the ball.

I knew we'd beat the CBH on C.D's first drive. It went down the middle so far that we were left with a 60-yard approach shot.

The fourth team member was Bob Murphy, a Royal farmer and school board member. Bob's an analytical brainiac who probably should be working at Johns Hopkins. He cleaned up any mistakes Harlan or C.D. made.

Me? Well, I had a sandwich from Subway.

The fun part of tournaments is meeting new people or old friends. The first new one I met was Dree Leonard from Desert Aire. She was ready with battery-powered heated clothing and her thermos.

Bree was dead serious. One drive she launched went so far that it could have beaten many men's drives.

C.D. smacked his ball down the middle again on No. 5, leaving us about 80 yards from the hole. The ball landed right by the long drive sign, and Harlan and I drove to it excitedly to see if C.D. had won.

It was the women's long drive contest, and Dree's name was posted on the card. Wow!

One of the old friends was Josh Scroggins. Unintentionally, he let me in on how he's amassed his fortune. The secret is not what you earn but what you save.

Opening the palm of his hand, Scroggins flashed a collection of shiny new tees at me and said: "I got lucky following your group today."

The most fun came at the first tee. I was grabbing for my driver, a ball and tee when Whitney Arthur, the tournament director's wife, and her great friend, Hannah Webster of Cle Elum, drove up with the beverage cart.

An amicable conversation about the word "female" sprang up between the perky cart drivers and my three partners. Apparently someone had used the term in the club house.

I walked to the tee as the discussion continued. I don't know what all was decided, but it sounded as if Whitney and Hannah preferred not to be called females.

The discussion ended as I moved toward the tee and prepared to launch. But it was too quiet.

So I stepped back and struck a blow for all who think the world sometimes is a little too PC:

Let me get this straight. You two are not females?

Grins and chuckles all around.