"So what's your handicap?"

"Polio," said Lloyd Zeise, who then swung his brace-encased legs off the cart, made his way to the tee markers and whacked a drive down the middle of the fairway.

Recalled Larry Peterson, Zeise's able-bodied partner and longtime friend, of the wide-eyed and openmouthed opponents, "I think we were 9 up before they recovered."

Such anecdotes abound every summer Monday evening at Braemar Golf Course during the Sister Kenny Institute golf league, which brings together physically challenged golfers, usually 40 or 50 but sometimes as many as 100, for both instruction and recreational play.

To a first-time observer, the most noticeable features of the league are the enthusiasm for the game and the good-natured kidding that takes place among the players. The gathering is no place for anybody who doesn't enjoy golf, and it certainly is no place for anybody who has a thin skin.

"Everybody is here to have a good time," said Susan Hagel, a therapist and recreational specialist at Sister Kenny who founded the league 18 years ago. "You learn the game at your own pace and you play the game at your own pace. You don't have to feel pushed in any way."

The weekly outings are the core of what is believed to be the longest running league of its kind in the country, but according to Greg Jones, who heads up the Association of Disabled American Golfers, the Sister Kenny league is one of only a handful of such leagues and is the largest in the country.

Participants in the league have a variety of injuries or illnesses. There are those with spinal injuries, to victims of strokes, to the sightless, to victims of degenerative diseases.

"We're open to anyone," said Hagel, who started the league after a challenge from her golf loving first boss at Sister Kenny, a Minneapolis based health facility. "We want to teach people that they can still do many of the same things they did when they were able-bodied. We don't believe everything goes out the window because a person is physically challenged."

Hagel said she wanted to become a therapist from the time she was a little kid. That desire did not change when she was injured in a car accident as a teenager and became physically challenged herself. But her early experiences in getting the golf outings off the ground did not include all the laughs and jokes that currently fill the weekly get-togethers.

"We only had six people the first summer we tried to get started," Hagel said. "But getting people wasn't the hardest part. Back 19 years ago, it wasn't popular to have a bunch of physically challenged people show up at a golf course and ask for tee times. Courses just weren't that accessible.

"I literally went through the Yellow Pages, trying to find a course that would allow us to come out and play. But when I called Braemar and talked to John Valliere, he didn't hesitate. He said, 'Sure, c'mon out,' and being able to say that we were playing at Braemar, one of the best public courses in the whole state, gave us some credibility right away."

VALLIERE IS THE MANAGER OF Braemar, a course located in the Minneapolis suburb of Edina and site of the 1979 U. S. Women's Amateur Public Links as well as numerous state events.

A soft-spoken but gregarious person, Valliere said it didn't take long for him to make up his mind when Hagel asked about her golfers being able to use Braemar.

"In my heart, I felt it was a great thing, and it was the right thing for us to do," he said. "People were becoming aware that these people should be able to use all the aspects of the great outdoors that are available to everybody else. And that includes the great game of golf. Let's give all of these people an opportunity."

So Hagel had some golfers, and she had a place to play, but now she need-ed the funding to underwrite some of the administrative fees and otherwise support her project.

Through her own solicitations, Hagel found corporate support for the first 15 years of the league. But then the major sponsor hit some tough times and withdrew its support, which required Hagel to find some new sources.

With Valliere and Dick Bennett, a former member of the USGA Execu-tive Committee from Anoka, Minn., joining Hagel, the trio looked to the USGA Foundation, which had begun allocating a series of grants to assist similar community efforts. Three years ago, the campaign paid off, and now Hagel's league is at least partially un-derwritten with a grant from the USGA.

WHEN CANCER WAS FOUND IN his hips and pelvic region, Jim Dodge had all the concerns anybody would have had when confronted with such news. But the prognosis was optimistic and Dodge, a Methodist minister, faced the challenge head-on.

"Ten years ago, the way to treat what I had was radiation," said Dodge, 53. "But in my case, the radiation also affected the nerves in my hips and pelvis."

Slowly but ever so surely, Dodge started to lose control of his legs as the nerves in his pelvis degenerated. Now he can walk a aid of crutches,block or so with the but his condition is regressing.

"I had played golf most of my life,"Dodge said. "When this happened, I thought my golf days were over."

He is still playing golf. He rides on a small cart, outfitted with a single seat that swivels from a driving position to where Dodge is able to position himself for a golf swing. He can even drive the cart onto putting greens, where a suction cup attached to the end of his putter extracts the ball from the cup.

"I've had to get used to swinging a club from a sitting position," said Dodge, who at one time consistently shot in the 80s. "The opportunity to still be playing golf is great for the soul. I feel like I've started on a whole new life."

Dodge paid for his own cart, which cost about $3,200, and now Hagel and Valliere are campaigning for additional funds to provide similar carts for others. They aren't used to taking "no" for an answer.

Scott Robeson played a lot of sports when he was in high school and college. Even some golf. Then he suffered a spine injury in a car accident and lost the use of his legs.

Robeson, now 44, became a Para-Olympics swimmer he once held scores of national records - and also played wheelchair basketball. He rides in a full-sized cart, towing a smaller cart with him between shots, then lifts himself onto the smaller cart when he's ready to play.

There are so many ways to adapt to things," he said. "I had competed in a lot of sports, and now I have another way to compete again."

Wally Hinz said he used to play golf six or eight times a summer when he was younger. "I didn't play any more than that because I would get so frustrated," said Hinz, now 55. "I thought I should be Jack Nicklaus every time I played."

In 1978, Hinz was in a car accident and lost his sight. He didn't touch a golf club again until a few years ago, when he attended a high school reunion. Part of the reunion festivities included a golf outing, and Hinz decided to attend just to be the captain of one of the teams. He tried hitting a few shots on the practice range, and it wasn't long thereafter he was certain he was ready to take on the challenge.

"It's all mental," Hinz said. "That I can't see is irrelevant. It's all about developing a rhythm, a feel. I don't even think about a ball being down there. It's trying to make the same swing each time."

Accompanying Hinz to the Sister Kenny outings is Terry Glarner, a longtime friend and a credible player himself. Glarner sets Hinz for each shot, describes what kind of shot is required, guides Hinz back to the golf cart and helps him on to the next shot. Hinz said he doesn't try to "see" each shot as he did when he was sighted. Instead, his joy for the game comes in another way.

"The feel of a good shot is really something to enjoy," Hinz said. "There's nothing like the sound of a putt when the ball rattles into the cup. Even Barbara Streisand couldn't make a sound like that."