London Competition

Been away from this for a few days while living it in London. A few days ago we began what Luke named the British Invitational. I called it the Luke Dad Invitational, but whatever it was it was a four round event at Moor Park Golf Club with full handicaps in play and the usual bet. If Luke wins, Dad buys dinner. If Dad wins, Dad buys dinner. How can I lose?! The first two rounds, the first on the High Course, the second on the West Course, went as expected. Even playing two tees up and getting 22 strokes, I couldn’t keep up. Besides the usual factors, I chalked it up to burned out fairways that required a surgeons touch to make solid contact and 

extreme concave greens that required a philosophical reimagining of how greens are supposed to break and run. Note: I never solved them. Anyway, due to my age, bad back (epidural six weeks ago), and hilly terrain, we took a buggy (cart in UK) for the first two rounds. Then came the inter club tournament that I was scheduled to caddie for, the point of all this and the impetus for the resurrection of the Accidental Caddie blog. After experiencing the hills in a buggy and checking my birth certificate, I ruled out carrying his bag for 36 holes in one day. But using a buggy would not allow me to be his caddie. I had the option to push a trolley (hand cart in UK) but in the final analysis, we decided Luke would carry his bag and I would walk alongside him (with a back pack of water, etc.) and be the caddie. I later rationalized and it proved to be true, that Luke could easily manage his bag while the additional energy it required might help absorb his built in competitive golf anxiety. When I shared this theory with him later, he didn’t disagree. The morning alternate shot round against the other hot club team was competitive in all four matches. The men of Knebworth Golf Club would not be push overs like most of their other matches. Luke’s club’s team had five Division 1 players on their roster.  The pair that matched up against Luke and James (the Moor Park captain) were capable foes and from the outset showed that they would not go quietly. James, was an affable and charming captain but liked to win and hated to lose even more, so he chose Luke as his partner. When things started slow he tried to motivate Luke in ways we’ll call tough love. Admittedly I shared with James on more than one fairway stroll that Luke is not a morning player and often needs to be “woken up.” Whether that was the cause for his borderline abuse, I’m not sure. One of the competitors walking back to the tee with Luke in the alternate play format asked Luke why his partner was being so tough on him. By the back nine Luke and James were down three based on some early stellar play by the Knebworth team, combined by some lose play by Moor Park: an OB tee shot by Luke on 9 which would be recounted more than once later on, as well as an unfortunate 6 iron chip from jut off the green that rolled over the green, a yard from OB. Eventually Luke did wake up and helped them get to one down with one to play, but a halve on the 18th, gave the Knebworth duo the win. I had done all I could to awaken Luke early but nature had to take its course.

In the afternoon singles rounds, with the team match tied at 2-2, Luke drew their best player who played steady and kept the round even until early on the back nine. After missing a six footer to go two down and watching Luke play loose off the tee but consistently recover, his opponent started to quietly (except for  yelling “fuck cunt” a number of times) unravel until Luke had a four footer to close out the match on 13, five and four. While his opponent doffed his cap ready to accept defeat, Luke missed the clincher and we moved on. When Luke lost the 14th, (three down with four to go) I could see Luke replaying videos in his head of past “not closing the deal” as he teed off on the par five 15th. I started seeing those videos as well, so when his approach shot went wayward and wound up behind a tree about 80 yards from the pin with a leafless branch threatening and deterring Luke from attempting an otherwise simple pitch to the green over a tree, I spoke up. Luke was seeing disaster without a solution, and I was seeing a good chance to end this thing before we faced a two up and two to go mind fuck. Hit the shot Luke. Nine out of 10 it will be okay. Let’s throw the dice. His head spinning or my positive argument was convincing, but he hit the shot, nicking the branch but winding up on the green for a two putt and the win. Luke had come through. The Accidental Caddie had come through. All was right with the world. Moor Park defeated Knebworth 8 and 6. The victory celebration of beers, pizza and bowls of chips, included friendly but fond abuse of their quirky American In London teammate.

After a day off, Luke and I resumed the British Invitational on the West Course. Just the two of us playing and me agreeing to walk and push a trolley, the match went as the others, me not picking up any ground but playing okay. Then on the final round where I would play with Luke and two of his teammates, all scratch golfers, and one of them a plus six, weeks away from turning pro. Amidst protests, they succumbed to Luke’s demand to play the back tees from 7000 yards. I played up at 6,400. For this round I chose to experience a motorized trolley though I think I was expecting a remote controlled one rather than just motorized, but not having to push it up hills was worth the price of admission. Meanwhile, Luke’s match, with a ten pound wager, playing the rising pro straight up and giving four strokes to the other, proved competitive. Halfway through the back nine Luke looked to me for a pep talk to close it out. If memory serves, I said don’t play safe, stay aggressive and trust your swing and your ability. Don’t be a pussy. (Can one still say that?) He won going away. Afterwards, Luke said the rising pro had a bad day but I wondered (to myself and Luke) if his transitioning from am to pro might be premature. And how would someone about to turn pro, feel about losing to a guy with a full time job, who only gets on a golf course one day a week. On the other side, Luke wondered (again) out loud if he had what it takes to compete at the pro level. I told him what I’ve always told him: that he does have the talent, but the psychological make up that is required to do this four rounds a week for 20-30 weeks a year is something that is for a very few and not the faint of heart. I told Luke he’s right where he ought to be, and enjoy it. 

GOING INTERNATIONAL

I’m back. We’re back. But we’re going international now.  I’m at the airport heading to London for my next Accidental Caddie engagement.
So checking into the blog for the first time in a long time (It’s been so long I even had to use Claude to update the DNS, CName, blah blah… last time I posted there was no Claude, no ChatGPT. AI, though increasingly in the news, was still borderline science fiction. No more.) On looking back at my last post, I realized, after providing the teaser about an upcoming competition at The Preserve Golf Club on the Monterey Peninsula, I hadn’t followed through and posted about it. If I thought I had loyal blog followers I would feel guilty about leaving them hanging, but I have no illusions. I do this for me, and Luke, quietly, gets a kick out of it. Anyway, The Preserve. Let me just say that driving to The Preserve along narrow roads so treacherous I imagined a trek to the Tibetan monastery in Lost Horizons. On the first day driving to Luke’s practice round, but my recreational round, I said to Luke that we needed to leave plenty of time before and after tomorrow’s round to get here and back, because this isn’t a road you want to be in a hurry on. Anyway, the course was spectacular, but what’s in the water up here that allows  members to be okay with risking their lives every time they want to tee it up here? Is a good round of golf worth risking your life? Maybe. Long story short, we had a good practice round with Luke’s partner, a rising college freshman who was the grandson of one of Luke’s post-college mentors (in my day I didn’t even know what a mentor was), and the mentor/granddad (of course he was younger than me as Luke always takes pleasure in pointing out). Next day, as I remember, they both faired pretty well as a team but didn’t make the first page of leader board. Still it was another day to remember (or try to remember). Then we had to hustle back to Monterey airport (on the Road of Death) so Luke could fly back to Florida for a last minutely scheduled interview for a new job. But what about Dad? Dad would have to fend for himself soloing in our rental car north to San Francisco, but with a day to spare, I got a tee time with three other randos and teed it up at Half Moon Bay Golf Links, about a half hour south of SF airport. Licking my wounds from being abandoned by my kid, I wound up having a great time with this hodge podge of golfers, all of us with teenage handicaps, but earnest about our game. One guy was an arty sort of fellow from France, another a down home solid good old boy from Nebraska, and the other, I think, from South America. You can’t plan this kind of golf day. It just happens. We eventually bid each other adieu, and see y’all, and adios, before I made my way back to San Fran, turning in our car and flying back east… that was 2022. It’s now 2026. Luke has been charging through the corporate world and is now head of Flights and Fancy (I made that up to protect the innocent) with a major airline, living in downtown London. After spending his first six months there checking out the potential courses within an hour train ride, he joined Moor Park Golf Club, with two eighteens and a clubhouse that dates back to the House of Stuarts (that’s the 17th century for those who aren’t ready to be contestants on Jeopardy). Unsurprisingly, he was drafted by their scratch inter club team (they’re called the Scratch Team… 5 Division 1 players on a team of 8) and when he told his captain he’d miss their important upcoming match because his dad was coming to town, his captain dropped to his knees begging him to play (I’m exaggerating). After pleading his case to me, it’s going to be throw back Sunday with dad on the bag (bog on a trolley) in the 36 hole inter club match. The Accidental Caddie rides… well walks… again. 

THE RETURN...                                                                            It's 2023. Post college, post pandemic, in the midst of early business career success. And it's the return to competitive golf. With reinstatement as an amateur, Luke is headed back to competition, and with anything he has ever done, it's all or nothing. It's not nothing. He's entered not less than 8 tournaments from now til the end of the summer. First stop is Florida State Public Links Championship, three rounds of stroke play, no cut. It's played at Dubsdread in Orlando, a short peculiar track where you barely need a driver. But it's a good place to start. You get to play three rounds no matter what, and you can test your short game. Going into the final round, the rust showed, but there's a new attitude. Play conservative, play patient, let the game come to you. The philosophy is working in fits and starts. But I'm long distance. Next week I'm "on the bag" for the first time in a long time (not counting a best ball tournament at The Preserve in Monterey two years ago). Stay tuned...

Inside the Ropes... Almost

I’m not sure if this is about me, as dad; me, as caddie; my son Luke, the object of my caddying; the uniqueness of the Champions Tour, or simply about getting in touch with one’s inner golfer… but here goes:

Following an early round of golf with Luke this past Sunday, we hopped in my car and made our way to The Cricket Club in Philadelphia to see the final round of the Constellation Senior Players Open. Luke, armed with a Media Pass from interning with PGA Magazine this summer, got us as far as the media parking lot, so I still had to pay, which I was glad to do, knowing that although the PGA makes boatloads of money, they do in fact give a lot back to the communities in which the events are held. But I digress.

I had never been to a Champions Tour event before so I’m not positive, but I’m guessing that the turnout I witnessed on the final day was disappointing, for the Tour, the sponsors, the Golf Network, and the players. However, in the end, the sparse turnout had a silver lining. As close as one may get from time to time to the participants in a sporting event, there was nothing quite like what Luke and I and our fellow gallery members experienced that day. On Golf Channel, they’re always talking about the experience of being “inside the ropes,” as in, ”We’re inside the ropes and you’re not.” Well, on this day we came pretty close to crossing that great divide.

At the Constellation Players at the Cricket Club, the ropes barely kept us off the playing surface. On every tee and every green, we were, as the movie title says “Ten Feet from Stardom.” With our toes inches from the putting surface or short tee grass, we were privy to every player quip, every player sigh, every player-caddy conversation. When Joe Don Blake, still in contention, missed the green badly on the windy short par 13^th and groaned as he handed his club to his caddy, he was so close I was almost moved to put my arm around him to console him. On the 16^th, with Langer leading by two and hitting a nice drive down the middle, he was forced to move back and lean on me as his opponent teed off. I felt like whispering in his ear, don’t worry Bernhard, you’ve got this. And so it went, like the spectator turned caddie in Tin Cup or the customer turned caddy in the Mastercard commercial, I, Luke and the rest of us were drawn into the action.

Walking down the right side of the fairway a few minutes later, ruminating on this unique experience, I suggested to Luke that he write an article about this and give it to his boss at PGA Magazine. After he explained that the magazine was for PGA professionals and this subject would not resonate with their readership, I implored further, at which time, the couple walking beside us got into the conversation. About this time, as a die hard millennial, he checked out of the conversation to check his texts. So alas it was left to me to record this day. Conclusion: Golf is a magical game unlike any other to play, watch or experience, where the bonding potential and the bond between players and caddies, players and spectators, and fathers and sons, is unrivaled. Takeaway: The next time you have the chance, get out to a Champions Tour event.  Bernhard may need a read. 

Chasing The Dream Options

Well, I've been kinda busy lately (lately being relative time period) so haven't posted, but here's something. The subject of much of my golf blogging over the years, my son Luke, who decided when he was 9 that he would be the next Tiger Woods (I'm sure that sentiment echoed far and wide among other junior golfers for the next decade), is this blog's author (mostly). In it, we see what might become of a young golfer who decides temporarily or permanently, that his dream of making it to the PGA Tour is just that, a dream, and he must now target other goals. To recap briefly, Luke excelled as junior golfer, became dominant high school golfer, recruited as Division I golfer at Bucknell, but after one season, transferred to Florida Gulf Coast where he wound up continuing to compete but no longer at D-1 level, but wound up in PGM program and used golf as a foundation and springboard for related pursuits in life. And this is what he finds on his plate currently as he completes his senior year at college:

Lessons Taught, Lessons Learned?

So what is the responsibility of a parent to make sure your kid makes the right decisions (after they've come "of age.")? And what is the responsibility of a caddy to make sure his player makes the right decisions? When I’m out on the links with my kid, those two questions merge as one. On the PGA tour some caddies are part of the decision making process and influence their players decision, others are merely pack mules, carrying clubs, and raking bunkers. But even the influential ones (e.g. Bones for Mickelson, Fluff for Jim Furyk) defer to the player in the end with whom the final decision must rest.So there we were, with a ("a" not "the" as there are many) moment of truth decision upon us. There had been a few earlier, but this one was crunch time, two under with 3 holes to go and the cut likely at even par to play in the Met Am at Baltusrol. Bad drive with no clear shot to green. Do we take our medicine and punch out to fairway or try to hit high risk shot to save par. Dad’s Ten Commandments (see earlier blog) explicitly states to take medicine in this situation. Argument: If he punches out to fairway, he can still possibly get up and down for par but will certainly make no more than bogey, thus going into last two holes with one stroke to spare to make cut.And this is a special cut, 150 player field, some of the best in the area and they’re only taking eight. Halfway through the summer season, making this cut will buoy our boy immensely. It’s right there for team Luke. But he balks at my safe play suggestion... and I don’t insist. I get caught up in his delusion of hitting “the shot” and the secondary delusion that making the cut by two strokes rather than on the number, matters. It doesn't... but I'm swept away. Five minutes later, with a triple bogey on the card, we’re in desperation mode on 17 and 18 and it’s not going to work. Bad decision, cut missed. Time to move on. But it will sting for a day or two.
One day before, we were playing at The Ike Championship at Friar’s Head Country Club, which may be the most visually stunning and beautiful course I’ve ever seen… and that includes Pebble Beach and Kiawah Island (though I know there are others). We went out on day one to make the cut by playing conservative and methodical. Before the round, his competitor friends were amazed that we hadn’t come out for a practice round for such a unique golf course. A combination of logistics (course was far away and only accessible weekdays before) and the experience that practice rounds have never provided us better results, in fact to the contrary, made our first round the first time we’d seen the course. So conservative play made sense no matter what. Result: we make the cut… top 40 and ties from a field of well over a hundred competitors.
Day 2 of Ike (the afore mentioned "one day before": Now we know the course and the same plan is in play, well at least I think so, but as the day goes on, low scores by the leader start infecting our strategy. Pretty soon, we’re going for par 5’s and drivable par 4’s, attacking pins, and before long we’re picking up the inevitable bogey’s. We wind up T-29 where a top twenty was easily within reach. In golf, in order for the player to get back out there the next day, it's typical to blame something other than ones self and the likely target is the caddie... and in this case, it's a twofer... blame your caddie and your dad for the same money. Luke does not blame me, but I'm complicit. There will be another day. And more lessons to come.

After the Cut

So Pat Wilson didn’t make the cut at the US Open, but took away a world of experience, both for competitive golf and life in general. That’s what golf gives you. Every experience in life has a lesson of course (if one chooses to pay attention), but competitive golf does test strength of character in a unique way. What’s the meaning of life? What rules do we need to live by or be judged by? USGA? State or Federal Laws? God? Personal Moral Compass? Whichever you choose, moments that count to you, provide the relevant test.

Okay, I may be getting carried away here, but Tuesday the summer of local competition continues with the New Jersey State Open Qualifier. So what matters? As we hear from all the golf pundits (the Golf Channel provides background noise at the moment), Chambers Bay may be “unfair” by some standards for the US Open Championship, but in the end, no one cares. This is the venue, this is the situation, play the course! 

Over the years, we (my player and I) have had our share of bad breaks, distractions, injustice, whatever… but no one cares! Play the course, stay patient, comport yourself with dignity (or whatever version of it works for you), and post the best score you can. As you do it on the golf course, you’ll do it in life, and you’ll do it on the golf course, and you’ll do it in life…

Play the course. I mean "Play the Course." #chambersbay