‘Snake’ strikes yet again

We were sitting in the lower part of the Kitchen Creek clubhouse last Wednesday around 2 p.m. “Snake” Krawchuk took a seat on a semi-comfortable chair, placed his arms on the rests, and leaned back.
He wore a red golf shirt with basche shorts and a white Cleveland golf hat with a Canadian flag embroidered on the side, and topped the outfit off with a strained smile.
Krawchuk had gotten up at 6:30 a.m. that day for the annual Senior Open with the thought of winning it for the third-consecutive time.
He had some coffee with no particular preference on how it was received (“just as long as it’s got caffeine in it”), took a 10-minute warm shower, shaved, and skipped on the breakfast like he usually does on his serious golfing days.
We were sitting there, just the two of us, after Krawchuk had played a “mediocre” round of golf that probably was only good enough for second place in the championship flight—not realizing he was about to be given a second chance.
“If things go your way, then great and if things don’t go your way, then they don’t,” reasoned Krawchuk. “I mean, I played well but things just didn’t happen.”
He and his playing partners—Mike (Sparky) Asplund, Dennis (Poncho) Krantz, and Rodney (Buzz) Christensen—all had played well and were coming down the stretch of their entertaining round of golf.
The side bet for that day’s round was a dubious sum of $4 as Fort Frances (Snake and Sparky) faced International Falls (Buzz and Poncho) in a tradition that’s been going for years.
But things got serious when Krawchuk decided to make things interesting by bogeying the 17th hole.
Walking to the 18th hole at one-under par, he proceeded to give his son/caddy, Terry, a mild heart attack when Pops went into the hazard with his tee shot on the 450-yard, par-4.
“Obviously you try to play so you don’t get in trouble and I just tried to get on the fairway, but ended in the hazard and then the game got a little bit different,” Krawchuk said.
A recovery mission then ensued for the ball and once found, a pitching wedge was the club of choice, which left the dimpled orb 50 feet from the cup.
Krawchuk had a good idea that Lynn Ellingson, who was playing in the group behind, had the best score among the 88 competitors at three-under, so salvaging par was crucial.
Not only to the very slight chance that Ellingson might collapse on his way in, but to the very realistic scenario of placing second and wanting to finish below par.
“I started cursing at myself a little bit there and I got a little discouraged,” said the 52-year-old.
As it turned out, Krawchuk could not convert after leaving his birdie attempt five feet from the hole and then missing his par putt. He finished the day at even par and contributed $2 to the side bet, which he and Sparky had lost for the first time.
“I think I blew that one, boys,” Krawchuk said after he retrieved his ball out of the cup.
So did everyone else, but before Porky Pig was asked to come out and give his patented closing line, the speaker in the clubhouse came on and called Krawchuk to the 10th hole.
Ellingson shockingly had triple-bogeyed the 17th hole and now the two would duel in a sudden-death playoff.
“On the 17th, I just hit the wrong club on my second shot and I hit it over the green, and couldn’t recover,” said Ellingson.
Even after the first two playoff holes, both put their tee shots left of the green back on the 10th hole again.
Ellingson was up first but did not reach the green with his chip shot, which left the door wide open for Krawchuk as his shot found the dance floor.
Ellingson managed to get par, but that wasn’t good enough to beat Krawchuk’s birdie.
“I finally made a good putt,” said Krawchuk. “I read it as breaking from left-to-right and I just wanted to get it close. If it goes in, then it goes, and if it doesn’t, then at least I have a tap-in [left].”
Krawchuk is not one that allows pressure to control his actions, but he did admit to feeling more nervous than a high schooler on his first date.
“The first shot on the first playoff hole I was definitely nervous,” he remarked. “My knees were shaking and my heart was just pounding like crazy.”
Krawchuk is a friendly man who is two years away from retirement from the mill here, where he has worked for 33 years. He’s looking forward to spending more time on the links.
He may now be the three-time Senior Open champion, but golf has humbled the man known as Snake—and will continue to do so. He shouldn’t feel bad, though, as all players are prisoners to this wonderful game.
“You can never master this game—all you can do is hit and pray,” Krawchuk reasoned.