The Burning Bush

It was a Sunday morning in late June, 2003 in the Scottsdale/Phoenix, Arizona area when the desert was so dry that the air smelled like chalk and the grass was screaming out for some water.  Our regular foursome of Bob Siegel, Terry Hindmarch, Michael Arbi and Lat Celmins were playing Scottsdale’s Grayhawk Raptor course, ninth hole, par 4, 427 yards.  We were playing hi-low with partners for a couple of bucks.

            My partner was in the desert transition area in two as I was preparing to chip up from the fairway.  Just as I was ready to swing, my partner hollered out “Fire! Fire! Great balls of fire!”  With my putter and chipper in my hand, I ran over to my partner who was surrounded by a small wall of fire in an area greater than most living rooms.  As I came to assist, the fire was spreading.  Michael and I quickly began a fire dance trying to stamp out the fire with our feet and the clubs we had in our hands.  

            We kept shouting to the other golfers, “Fire department! Ranger! Fire!” and continued to do our stamping around trying to contain the fire toward the fairway and away from the clubhouse.  There was no music or drum beat.

            Fortunately, the wind was blowing away from the desert and clubhouse to the fairway and we were knocking down small bushes and shrubs trying to push the fire toward the fairway, away from the desert and the Grayhawk clubhouse.  In the knick of time, two rangers came with fire extinguishers to help fight the fire and contain it.  With the aid of the rangers and our continual dance, we finally contained the fire suffering only minor burns on our ankles and calves.  Had the wind been blowing the other way or my partner and I had not reacted immediately, it was possible that the whole Grayhawk clubhouse would have been merely a memory because of the way the fire was spreading.  

            After the excitement was over, we determined how the fire was started. Michael was hitting a pitch shot to the green some 75 yards away and hit a small pebble which caused a large spark which landed in a bush that was drier than the driest Christmas tree, the bush not only burned but virtually exploded into a fire ball.  Michael hit the ball within a foot of the pin and tapped in for a par on the front nine.  It was the day we saved the Grayhawk clubhouse.