Sam swirled the foaming froth of his pint, watching clear condensation trickle down the chilled glass before taking a deep, deliberate draft. He lowered the glass and leaned back, scanning a quiet circle of friends at the dimly lit table. "D'ya think most presidents possess a golf-course mentality?"
Tim wiped the foam from his lip with a quick, careless swipe and thumped his mug down hard. "I wish. At least golf's got rules you gotta follow," he scoffed, shaking his head slowly. "Some presidents strut around like dictators who think they're above the law entirely."
"And in golf, every move's out in the open," Kris chimed in, swirling the ice in her glass as she leaned across the worn oak table. "Who knows what backroom bargains, what dark deals get struck behind closed doors by the people running things?"
A cynical smirk tugged at the corner of Sam’s mouth. "You idealize golf."
Ted snapped back, "No, you idealize politics!" setting his glass firmly onto the table. He gestured half-in-earnest into the air. "Who ever said politics was a gentle sport? In the end, isn't there only one winner?"
Tim stared into the dark depths of his drink, his voice dropping into a heavy, quiet warning. "With that mindset, everybody loses eventually. Zero-sum games breed nothing but losers — and in the long run, no one really wins at all."
