Fine female golf may be the lure of the Lawrence Futures Classic this weekend, yet you never know when you’ll spot a familiar face or hear a familiar name.

For instance, the man driving the van I rode from the parking lot near the Clinton Dam outlet to the Eagle Bend pro shop was named Joe Lewis.

“Joe Lewis?” I replied. “I used to play slow-pitch with a guy name Joe Lewis.”

“That’s my son,” he replied.

Then we talked for a couple of minutes about his son Joe — a talented outfielder and hitter, by the way — who now lives and works in the Kansas City area.

Later, in the pro shop I jollied for a while with Eagle Bend assistant pro John Morris. I had always wondered how Morris made one of the most curious job switches I’ve ever heard of.

Morris was defensive coordinator of Haskell Indian Nations University’s football team under Gary Tanner for several years, then he left for the post at the city’s municipal golf course. I had remembered Morris as a Lawrence High football player, but I didn’t think he had ever played for the Lions’ golf team. Turns out, he hadn’t.

“Naw, golf was for sissies,” Morris said with a twinkle. “Actually, I never even played golf until I was a junior in college at Northeastern Oklahoma in Tahlequah.”

A friend asked Morris if he wanted to go out and play golf. No clubs, Morris replied. That’s OK, the friend said, you can use mine. And so he did.

Jeanne Cho of Orlando, Fla., prepares to chip her ball during the second round of the Lawrence Futures Classic. She shot a 4-over-par 76 Saturday at Eagle Bend Golf Course and is eight shots behind the leader heading into today's final round.

“Down there, they had a course where you could play all day for $2.50,” he said. “And the course even had grass greens.”

Momentarily, Morris answered the phone. Somebody wanted to reserve a tee time. Obviously, not everyone knew Eagle Bend was playing host to the first women’s professional golf tournament in Lawrence history.

Then I wandered out of the pro shop and ran into Burke Beeler, one of the many tournament volunteers. Beeler works for the Kansas University Endowment Assn. His job title is Director of Donor Relations which, I surmise, is probably a euphemism for Director of Schmoozing.

Anyway, every time I run into Beeler we reminisce about the time many years ago when I was pitching for the Journal-World slow-pitch softball team and Beeler hit a screaming line drive off my left shin. I was struck many times in many body parts while toeing the slab over the years — I’m thankfully retired now — and Beeler’s blow ranked in the top three on my pain chart.

Beeler doesn’t play anymore, either, he said. Back trouble. Ah, well, at least his shins are OK.

Hey, isn’t that Chuck Mead? By golly, it is.

No, not THAT Chuck Mead, not the one with BR549, the nationally known singing group. This was his dad, a retired elementary school gym teacher and later administrative consultant.

I first met Mead when I was a volunteer parent at Deerfield School field days. Now, Mead was a volunteer working the Futures Classic.

“Didn’t your son have a gig here not too long ago?” I asked him.

“Yes, but that wasn’t the main reason he was here,” Mead replied. “His main job was to clean out the closets of stuff that’s been there for 30 years.”

Young Mead has lived in Nashville, Tenn., for the last couple of decades yet he has never, his dad said, been overcome by his own self-importance.

“I can honestly say he isn’t any different than he’s ever been,” Mead said. “I’m proud he hasn’t let something like that get to him.”

Moments later, Mead excused himself. He had to go to his assigned volunteer post.

I looked around. Nobody else I recognized. So I meandered out to the 18th hole. Time to watch some golf.