‘At last, a comedy with balls’ and some other stuff
By Ted Holteen

The Slobs Against the Snobs." That was really a tag on the movie trailer for "Caddyshack" when it was released in 1980 to inauspicious reviews. So was the "balls" thing above. There was no reason to believe that the movie would be anything other than another formulaic and ultimately forgettable comedy. It's easy to forget that what is now revered as a classic cast was at the time a bunch of retreads and journeymen. Ted Knight was a sitcom sidekick who hadn't worked since Mary Tyler Moore (the short-lived "Ted Knight Show" not withstanding). Rodney Dangerfield was making only his second film appearance after a bit part nine years earlier. And Bill Murray was Chevy Chase's replacement on Saturday Night Live, and it has been suggested that the two hated each other. But such is the stuff of which legends are made, and now it's impossible to get through a round of golf without hearing a butchered quote from the film, and there is no parallel in the world of athletics to the strange marriage of an entire sport to a movie.

Although I have seen "Caddyshack" more than 100 times, I was just a tad too young to catch it on the big screen that year. So on Saturday night at the Abbey Theatre, I'll be joined by like pilgrims seeking to fill a void that has been inside me for the past 25 years, and we'll all have the Durango Mug Club to thank. And if it's been a while since you've seen it on anything other than basic cable, expect to see some scenes that are commonly deleted and to not see some others created just for broadcast TV. Here's how my day will go:

* Wake and have a sensible breakfast

* Head out for 18 (time permitting) at Hunter's Run golf area AKA The Links at Oxford

* Eat more

* Go to Abbey and watch "Caddyshack" while drinking beer, a privilege not available in 1980 in most theaters.

I should take a moment to say a few words about Hunter's Run. Local lore tells that only a couple of duffers have ever achieved par at what I firmly believe is the most difficult 9 holes of golf in North America. Incidentally, one of those is Ralph Dinosaur, but that's not important. I would wager none other than Tiger Woods that dish of a Swedish nanny of his that even he would be hard pressed to put up red numbers on a course that challenges players with 1,100-yard par 4s, wind gusts of 75 mph, and snakes - lots of snakes. But even if Eldrick could overcome the elements, the house rules of three joints and a 12-pack every nine holes would surely do him in. But not me. I'll shoot my 84 and brag about it (downplaying the fact that I only played nine), and then join the fun. The movie's supposed to start around 8:30 p.m., it's free for Mug Club members and only five bucks for nontouring pros.

There are two kinds of people in Durango - those who believe that riding nine holes in a golf cart with a few stops to swing a golf club constitutes an active lifestyle, and those who strive for more of a challenge. This second group skis where there are no lifts, rides bikes when a compression engine would do the job in a fraction of the time with less effort, and eats hummus because they think it tastes good. While I'm losing my seventh ball on the third tee, some of those people will be competing in the 17th annual TRI the RIM Triathlon at Fort Lewis College on Saturday morning. As triathlons go, it's pretty tame - 10 laps in the pool, 12 miles on a bike and a 3-mile run. Those in the know bill this as a "sprint" format. Tame is a relative term, of course, as some quick math would have this "sprint" lasting well into Sunday if say, for example, I were to attempt to better myself with such an endeavor. Then I'd miss the movie. And, what's worse, I'd drown. But 17 years is 17 years, so someone will do it, and they'll pay to do it, and they'll get up early enough to start at 10 a.m. It takes all kinds. And in the spirit of "see how the other half lives," I will buy the first beer for any participant who competes in the TRI the RIM and shows up for the movie. Seriously. But I'll leave it up to you to figure out who I am, keeping in mind that we probably don't travel in the same social circles and have nothing in common. So drink your free beer and leave me alone. Good luck.

Staying with the dual themes of skiing without lifts and drinking irresponsibly, there is a little-known but apparently very cool happening in Silverton on Sunday. It's the Silverton Mountain BREWSKI, a peas-in-a-pod union of steep skiing with a beer festival. The local brew houses will all be there, as well as a Farmington representative and a couple breweries from up north. Anyone can attend the festival, and the more ambitious but less thirsty can get a day of guided skiing before the beer flows. All social happenings in Silverton are wonderfully strange, and it might be the only town in the U.S.A. capable of pulling off such an event.

It's not often that a journalist gets the opportunity to incite a riot. In fact, the government has gone to great lengths over the years to dissuade such behavior, going so far even as to consider it a felony. Fortunately, I'm not a journalist, and I don't think the law applies to hacks. So go nuts on Tues., April 19, beginning at 10 a.m., because that's when tickets for Willie Nelson go on sale at the Concert Hall. He's playing in the Whalen Gym on the FLC campus on May 10, and it should be a zoo. Here's the deal: 2,100 tickets are available, there's a limit of four per person, $40 and $100 a pop, depending where you want to sit. For full-contact purchases, you can get them in person at the Concert Hall box office, or beat the crowds and go online at www.durangoconcerts.com. Either way, you've got to wait until 10 a.m. Don't dawdle.

Train me. ted@ksut.org "Hey Wang, I think this place is restricted, so don't tell them you're Jewish!"