They’re not making any money off him at the snack bar, either. Gibbons rarely stops at the turn between nines or in between rounds. On this day, a pretty hot and humid one at that, I need to get a drink as we walk off No. 9. Barry declines when I offer him anything -- not even an Arnold Palmer?! Who turns down an Arnold Palmer?! After I get mine, I see him sitting on a bench by the 10th tee and a brief panic sets in. I’m holding him up!, I think as I start running to the tee. I have a similar thought a little later when Barry helps me search for an errant tee shot, only this time I worry about sapping his energy as well. But Barry, who has walked 90 holes in a day, is happy to help, even moving my bag for me on one hole when I've left it in an awkward spot to get to the next tee. My panic is quickly replaced by wonderment. How does this guy have so much energy?