Ever watch one of those suspense dramas when the main character finds himself clinging to the smallest piece of rope while dangling from the highest building in the largest city of Earth.

Gusts of wind blow our theatrical hero back and forth, each time that piece of rope splits a little bit more. The camera pans down a thousand feet to a bustling city street the man’s future resting place.

A few villains shoot machine guns from various angles always missing because the wind blows the man across the building’s front and away from the ammunition.

Somehow, though, the hero finds a formerly unseen ledge, or open window. Just a short jump to freedom.

The rope snaps.

The hero crashes in on an important board meeting. He lands on two feet, has a Dr Pepper and heads downstairs to safety.

Hollywood cameras have never made it to Clear Creek Golf Course, but what the administration and staff have done to keep that course afloat is astounding in more ways than one.

As a grass-eating fungus chewed away the greens like a tornado through a tent commune, and the only way to fix the problem was to close half the course for an entire summer.

It was quickly apparent that the numbers would be down. Players wanting to shoot 18 holes worth of golf would have to play the back nine twice. Twice as many cleat marks. Twice as many tire tracks. Twice as many divots.

Then the rains came. Thirty-six work days were washed away. Uncle Ben opened a processing plant on the 14th green.

Even with the constant rains, course officials started allowing golf carts on the course when practicality said, “walk the thing.” They were so desperate for business, they would let Bassmaster fishing boats float down the first fairway.

Through it all, the rain and the ruts, the worn greens and the bout with thugs turning the course bathrooms into disaster areas, the Clear Creek staff has persevered. Thousands of dollars have been lost because of this summer.

Like our heroes in the movies, course pro Randy Tupper, assistant pro Kathy Hester and course superintendent Brice McClendon have held on to that dangling piece of rope, refusing to let go.

When the course is finished and the work is complete to fix what thugs did, give all the workers at Clear Creek a slap on the back, hand them a cold soda (they may want something else) and congratulate them for staying above the problems that would have sunk lesser people.

Sean P. Murphy is sports editor of The Vicksburg Post. E-mail him at smurphy@vicksburgpost.com.