The scene was Hoylake, home of the Royal Liverpool Club, where the scratch golfer and his six-handicap rival had agreed on a level match. The catch was that there would be one condition: the handicap player would have the right to say "Boo!" three times during the round.
As it happened, he said "Boo!" on the 13th and won the match easily, with two "Boos" in hand when collecting his winnings. And all because the more gifted scratchman was thrown completely off his game by having to anticipate the interruption.
Few areas of the game have delivered such rich stories as those associated with wagers. Indeed the very notion of landing a handsome pay-off has lifted golfers to amazing achievements. Like the time Scottish professional Ben Sayers responded to a challenge thrown down largely by chance, and proceeded to play all 18 holes at the Royal Burgess Club in four each.
On being asked by his American rival what score he planned for the round, Sayers replied: "Fours." He meant this as an abbreviation of the popular expression of level fours, which applied to covering 18 holes in 72 strokes, an average of four per hole.
But the American decided to take Sayers literally. So it was that he specified: "Remember that a three or a five is not a four." The Scot nodded and delivered fours all the way, even on the eight bogey fives and two short holes on the old Burgess links.
In terms of playing to order, however, nobody has been able to seriously rival the effort of American professional Joe Ezar, if only because he did it in serious competition in the third round of the 1936 Italian Open at the Sestriere Club in Turin, where the eventual champion, Henry Cotton, was among the witnesses.
Before starting his round, Ezar struck a bet with the club president that he would shoot a 64, nominating his score on every hole in the process. He even went so far as to jot down each score on a piece of paper.
The upshot was that he adhered miraculously to his schedule, though he needed to hole a 50-yard pitch on the ninth to deliver a predicted three there. He was out in 32 and home in 32 in what has become acknowledged as the most amazing round in the history of the game.
Then there was the bet of $25,000 which Chicago broker J Smith Ferebee won in October 1938 when he played 600 holes in eight US cities over four days, breaking 90 in each round. Ferebee, who travelled by plane from city to city, had a rather busy opening day, playing 84 holes in Los Angeles and 81 in Phoenix, 36 of which were negotiated after 9.0 p.m.
On the second day, he had 72 holes at Kansas City and 72 at St Louis. These were followed on the third day by 72 at Milwaukee and 75 in Chicago. On the final day, 72 holes at Philadelphia and 72 in New York completed his schedule. In the process, he employed 110 caddies, using four with torches and flares when he played at night.
The only rest Ferebee had over the four days was in the aeroplane. By way of rather significant compensation, however, was that he and his backers were reported to have won $150,000 in bets and the sole rights to a $30,000 plantation.
But the bet which appeals most to me involved a former employee of this newspaper. Brian Inglis, who was always an accomplished single-figure handicap golfer, was appointed to the staff of The Irish Times by Bertie Smyllie, the editor. It seems that Smyllie, a member of The Island, had been approached about the matter of a job by Inglis's grandfather, J R Blood, one of the founding members of the club.
In his delightful book West Briton, Inglis wrote lovingly of Malahide and its golf courses: "When the Malahide Golf Club - we called it the `Shore' to distinguish it from the `Island' - had been laid out among the dunes on the village side of the estuary, it attracted a small, select membership; but in the twenties, the estuary grew wayward; the channel known as the `Short Deeps' where many a rash bather had been drowned in the tide rip, began to creep towards Malahide, eating away the dunes and, in a few years, what had been a golf course had become a beach."
The writer's first stint with this newspaper was for only a short time while he awaited the call-up for training with the RAF to fight in the second World War. That was when he got involved in a fascinating golf match against Francis Cobbe, who had applied to join the Royal Navy.
In his history of The Island GC, William O'Doherty Murphy gives a stirring account of the battle which had its early stage over nine holes on The Island up to the boundary with Corballis, then Corballis itself as far as Donabate. After playing nine holes at Donabate, the combatants stopped for lunch before playing all the way back to The Island's final green, a total of 54 holes.
The author informs us: "The golfers were Junior Cup standard and the golf to start with was of good quality. One of the conditions of the match, however, was that the winner of a hole was obliged to drink a bottle of beer and deposit the cork in the hole. Because of this, extra caddies were required to carry the crates of beer.
"According to an eye witness, many holes were exchanged, judging by the state of the participants in the late evening. John Horish observed the match at about 7.30 p.m. and he was invited by Francis Cobbe to act as referee for the last nine holes on The Island. According to John's account, the play continued good to the end and the match finished all square on the last green, each player having won 20 holes."
The account concluded: "Brian Inglis had the honour on the 55th tee as they set out on a sudden-death decider. Winning so many holes on the way around had taken its toll and as Brian teed up his ball, he keeled over and was unable to right himself. He called on his opponent to assist him to the correct address but as he himself described the finish - `the bloody fellow took from my pocket the £1 which was wagered on the match and headed for the boat'."
So it was that with victory in sight at the end of an epic battle, Inglis was left, literally down and out. Not for the first time, golfing ambition had been blighted by the demon drink.