The world's best mini golfers compete for the green windbreaker

Despite the A-List field, there's lots of parking at the Hawaiian Village and Rumble courses. Apart from a few spouses who follow the action from lawn chairs near the clubhouse, the gallery is mostly the players themselves. Indeed, no one who happened upon the Hawaiian Village course on a sunny Friday afternoon would have guessed they were watching the game's superstars. Unless perhaps they were following Olivia Propova.

Olivia, all of 11 years old, traveled 5,000 miles from the Czech Republic for the tournament, and she wouldn't even fit into the green jacket if she managed to win it. An impish, freckled tomboy, she's famous in mini-golf circles, drawing attention for her age, sponsorships (Olivia's golf shirt looks like a NASCAR racer's), and entourage, which includes her mother, father, uncle and two coaches, one of who doubles as her massage therapist. As Olivia's mother watches from the clubhouse, the rest of her gang follows Olivia from hole to hole, chain-smoking and carrying a stool for her to sit on between shots. Olivia's English is limited, but she does proclaim, "I love American courses."

That doesn't mean she always plays well on them. On this day, Olivia leaves too many strokes out there and finishes tied for 19th. Randy Orr, a tall, fast-talking salesman from Atlanta, is impressed nonetheless. It's hard to imagine Orr being intimidated by an 11-year-old girl, but he treated the prospect of a playoff against Olivia — at the Mini Masters all ties are decided by playoffs — with the trepidation of a Mob flunky starting the boss's car.

"I guess have to play Olivia," he sighed after checking the leaderboard. (Orr prevailed in the end.)

If Olivia is the tour's munchkin, Vance Randall is its giant. At 6'4", Randall towers over professional miniature golf in more ways than one. He has won more than $75,000 in prize money and was named "Putter of the 1960s" by the Professional Putters Association, which has Randall in its Hall of Fame. Randall is a "real" golfer, too, who once played to a 3 handicap and tried to qualify for the Senior Tour before back troubles sidelined him. At 67, he has a thick moustache and is revered like a small-town football coach. He is gray and pot-bellied, but still moves with an athletic gait; he's one of those "seniors" who can knock it 30 yards past you.

Randall actually led after the first day. But his years caught up to him on day two after six grueling rounds under the South Carolina sun. He ended the day 5-over-par, which in competitive mini golf is the equivalent of Tiger Woods carding an 84 at your local muni. (Par is always 36 in sanctioned mini-golf events — two strokes per hole — and a good score for competitors at this level is between 29 and 33.)

"It's just too many rounds," a dejected Randall said. "I just can't concentrate for that long."

McCaslin is in a pinch in the final round. He's on the eighth hole — aptly named "Pilikia" (Hawaiian for "trouble") — and his first shot finds a wide depression, forcing him to settle for a bogey 3. Oloffson fares no better. His second shot misses the hole and ends on the other side of the hollow. Two putts from there means a 4, evoking memories of when the unflappable Swede was entirely flappable. (Before his first Masters win in 2005, Oloffson was generally considered the Best Player to Have Never Won a Miniature Golf Major.)

The slip-ups invigorate Lebo, who promptly aces the following hole. Suddenly, the scores are bunched again, and a gallery begins trailing the players through the tiki huts and along the blue-dyed lagoon that line the back nine. When the players reach 18, an epic finish is eminent. McCaslin has overtaken Olofsson by one. Lebo played the best today, but is still three behind, an insurmountable deficit. McCaslin cards a two, so it's up to Oloffson, who needs an ace to stay alive. With more than 40 people surrounding the hole, Oloffson draws back his putter ... and pures it.

Draino.

Playoff.

McCaslin, not one to praise an opponent, offers Olofsson his hand.

"Are you serious?" Olofsson asks.

The international rivals share an uneasy high-five.

A three-hole playoff later, the two are still knotted, so they move to sudden death. On the first hole, Olofsson's first putt rattles in and out. He takes a 2, as does McCaslin, but Olofsson proves too much. On the next hole, he drops an ace. McCaslin's answer just misses, and Olofsson retains the green windbreaker.

There's no caddie to give an awkward man-hug to, but Olofsson does unload a Tiger-like fist pump to celebrate his back-to-back Mini Masters titles.

"I can ace that hole three out of four times," Olofsson says after the round of the hole-in-one at 18 that sent him into the playoff. But he isn't so confident about winning a third-straight title.

"It's a real tough game," Olofsson says. "The Americans will be back."

And so will Vance Randall. The mini-golf legend shook off his bad middle rounds and grinded out a respectable 14th-place finish. Asked why he spends his time playing miniature golf when the former 3- handicap could be playing real golf, Randall laughed.

"You go to my club in Asheville, N.C.," he said, "and just ask them who the best putter is."