BE A GOLDFISH

BE A GOLDFISH

 After a bad play, Ted Lasso reminded his players that the happiest creatures in the world are goldfish, because they can only remember things for 10 seconds.  

Tiger Woods dad, Earl, always told him to take 10 steps before doing anything else after a bad shot.  When asked to comment about a previous bad shot, 

Jack Nicklaus always responded that he didn’t remember it.  We never lose if we don’t lose the lesson and soldier on.  

Be a goldfish!

OUR COLLECTIVE PAST

 

Ken Venturi and Ben Hogan

“Some green untested souls might be tempted to wonder why one should still care, but none of us are here forever, we’re not even here for long; and if it’s true that our collective past exists inside all of us, unless we take time to bear witness to the best of those who strived before us, our chance to learn from their lives will be lost forever, and we will be the poorer for it.”  --Mark Frost, The Match

The Mark Frost quote above is worth rereading.  It’s the final words from the book, The Match, summarizing what has been called one of the greatest golf matches ever played.  It was arranged by two millionaires during the infamous Pro-Am Clambake on the Monterey Peninsula in California, hosted by Bing Crosby.  The essence of the bet was that two young rising amateurs were now capable of beating two of the best professionals of the time. 

The best-ball match was arranged between Ben Hogan and Byron Nelson versus Ken Venturi and Harvie Ward.  They agreed to quietly meet at Cyprus Point on the morning of January 10, 1956 so they would not be distracted by the players and fans, but an estimated 5,000 had gathered by the time word spread as they finished the round.  The contest was so close with both teams fully engaged in the competition that the pros ended up winning by only one up with a net score of 58, 14 strokes under par.  The margin of victory ended up being the eagle that Ben Hogan scored on the tenth hole.

The immortal foursome would never play another round of golf together as their most relentless opponent, time, would inevitably outlast them all.  But all four of these men in the course of their careers capitalized on their collective past and exploited the best attributes they needed to be the very best they could be in their lifetimes.

And this applies to the game of life as well.

MEANINGFUL PRIZES IN LIFE

AJGA, Sedgefield CC, Greensboro, NC

There’s a golfing war that‘s broken out last weekend with an opening salvo shot across the bow of the USPGA by a new Saudi backed golf league, LIV, that has romanced a number of players to join their ranks for an enticing amount of money.  The inaugural tournament was just held in London, but there are more planned for the United States this year.  They’ve introduced some interesting changes such as just three rounds VS four, hence the Roman numerals for 54 holes.  But the big attraction is more money as they lure players over to their side.  The PGA has been the fertile ground that has grown the sport’s best.

The Saudi government has some serious human rights issues to contend with on the world stage and the term “sportswashing” has surfaced referencing an attempt to use sports to wash over these negative associations.  Some folks have accused the defectors of selling their souls for a quick payout.

I finally had the downtime to finish a Christmas gift of The Match bestseller by Mark Frost while recovering from Covid-19, another plague raging across the country right now.  Coincidently, Frost touts the book as an account of “The day the game of golf changed forever.”  The book details an arranged match by two millionaires seeking to determine if two gifted amateur golfers, Ken Venturi and Harvie Ward, can outmatch two outstanding professionals, Byron Nelson and Ben Hogan.  The millionaires have a significant bet on the game while the four men are basically playing an unannounced match for the love of the game and the challenge of playing the best.

The book has a copyright of 2007 or fifteen years ago, but the final conclusion is uncannily germane to today’s golf war.  It hit home even more for me lately as I’ve been active in volunteering for the American Junior Golf Association (AJGA) to promote amateur golf competition in this country.  The concluding thoughts expressed by Frost could have been written this week:

“Not enough meaningful prizes in life are contested solely for honor anymore, for the love of the thing itself, or the undiluted satisfaction of testing your mettle against the best you can find and, win or lose, walking away the better for it because of the truths it enabled you to face and find out about yourself…Some green, untested souls might be tempted to wonder why one should still care, but none of us are here forever, we’re not even here for long; and if it’s true that our collective past exists inside all of us, unless we take time to bear witness to the best of those who strived before us, our chance to learn from their lives will be lost forever, and we will be the poorer for it.”    

SHATTERING LIFE LESSONS

Shattered Glass, Greensboro, NC

“Golf is about how well you accept, respond to and score with your misses, much more than it is a game of perfect shots.”  --Dr. Bob Rotella

Over the years I’ve read a couple of the books by sports psychologist, Dr. Bob Rotella. I find that he has some pretty astute observations on the game of golf and life. I particularly like this quote because there are many things in life beyond our control except one thing—how we respond.  We fallible humanoids are anything but perfect and that understanding enables us to admit problems we have created, seek forgiveness, make things right and develop our character as we mature and move on in life.  Golf imitates life and neither are fair. Fair is where clowns, cotton candy and pig judging happen.

Passing by a shattered window a while back triggered a childhood memory of playing baseball with my dad.  He was pitching to me in our backyard and throwing some smoke to work on my developing strike out percentage.  Much to the surprise of both of us, I connected on a fast ball and sent it over our back fence and into our neighbor’s window!  I do believe my initial inclination upon hearing the shattering sound of breaking glass was to just get the heck out of there, while my dad just stood there in shocked amazement. Then he turned to me and calmly stated that we needed to walk over to the neighbors and confess. That seemed a bit too impetuous at the time, but he put his arm around my shoulder and we strode over and admitted our transgression. Then my dad offered to measure the windowpane and replace it for the neighbor.

Many years later, I was playing golf at the invitation of a corporate partner with a group at Pinehurst.  I was riding with a former associate that could hit the golf ball a country mile.  He wasn’t on the tour, however, as many of his drives sailed out of control.  As he teed off on a long par 5, we heard the sound of shattering glass on the horizon amongst the towering pine trees!  We probably could have scurried on down the fairway out of sight, but instead we drove into the pine trees to find a woman standing on her expansive front entry under a shattered transom window holding up a white golf ball.  Some women have likened childbirth to pushing a piano through a transom, but the size of this transom would have made for an easy delivery!  She wasn’t at all upset but remarked that they had lived in the home for years and this was the first time anybody had ever hit the house!  My playing partner immediately produced the company’s insurance information and we hurried on to our next shot

.

These life lessons reinforced the observation that you can never go wrong doing the right thing. That especially applies when something shatters your life and you need to step up to admit your role in a bad situation and work to fix it.   And God will work alongside us to bring good out of any bad situation. For example, our neighbor gave my baseball back to me and the woman gave back the golf ball!

GIMMIE A MULLIGAN

"While We're Young!", Blue Hills CC, MO

SECOND CHANCES

A Mulligan in golf or a Gimmie putt is never allowed under the rules, but has become somewhat commonplace for the friendly, social game and recreational golfers that play less for trophies or money and more for the enjoyment of the golfing experience.  Both of these practices can also speed up the game and allow the group waiting behind you to keep playing at a reasonable pace.  Or as Arnold would say, “While we’re young!”  However, if either of these concepts involve an official competition or a “money shot” such as playing skins, then they’re not allowed.

A Gimmie putt is generally agreed upon and given by other players in the group if it is inside the leather of a standard putter grip and the hole.  A Mulligan is simply a second chance or “do-over” and the first errant shot is forgotten and now out of play.  So, if your Mulligan turns out to be in even worse trouble, tough luck!  If you go ahead and putt a Gimmie that has been conceded and you miss, you must also count the missed putt.  You do not have to pick up a Gimmie, but the whole point is to move along off the green. 

Most Mulligans are given off the first tee, especially when golfers have rushed to make an early tee time or have not played for some time.  If the shot is winged into the woods or a lake, a second shot in play can keep the game moving, as long as the golfer doesn’t spend extra time searching for the first ball.  However, in more recent times, golfers running a charity tournament have quickly found that they can easily raise extra money by selling limited mulligans to team members to be used for any errant shot during play.  That practice seems to have given rise to some groups allowing Mulligans off the front and back nines for tee and fairway shots, but not putts. Purists say “golf isn’t a matter of life or death.  It’s much more than that.”  They lose sight of the reality that it’s a just game.  Games are played with an agreed upon set of rules.

Nobody is quite sure when and where the term Mulligan originated, but it must have preceded 1949 when it made its way into P. Cummings’ Dictionary of Sports.  Most agree it may have started with an Irish golfer named Mulligan or even a bartender taking a freebie shot.  Somehow the term just meandered into the sport, quite probably because the practice is such an equal opportunity for everyone in the group.  If you don’t use a Mulligan in a round, you’ve probably had a very good day!  Besides, golf is a career to the professionals who play a very difficult game at another level.  But it’s a game and needs to be somewhat fun to the poor slob that is attempting to escape from the everyday world and simply enjoy life for a few hours.  And the universal second chance for just about everyone will always lift your spirits and give you renewed hope for redemption on the next shot!             

DEWSWEEPERS

Dewsweeper, Greensboro National GC

Footprints in the Dew, Greensboro National GC

A Great Friend, Jamestown Park GC

A golfing friend recently loaned me his copy of Final Rounds by James Dodson about a bucket list trip to the origins of golf with his father who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer.  Dodson turns out to have grown up in this area in Greensboro, North Carolina, and his subsequent book on the experience became a bestseller and 1996 Golf Book of the year.  I enjoyed the book so much a quick search on Amazon scored another book on The Dewsweepers, Seasons of Golf and Friendship.  Early Dewsweepers were sent out at first light to swipe the dew off of golf greens with a long cane pole.  Dodson defined a Dewsweeper as “a guy who takes the game but not himself very seriously”.  I finished this book on the eve of an early June tee time acquired by a regular group of Dewsweepers at Greensboro National Golf Club the next morning.

This group of senior golfers has a lot in common with my golfing friends in Kansas City where we played many rounds of golf through the liquid sunshine on sparkling fairways.  I actually set my alarm around 5:00 each Saturday morning for years and drove to a public course where tee times were issued in the order of the golfers assembled on a wooden bench next to the clubhouse door which was unlocked at dawn. 

 The Dewsweepers had three cardinal rules which were uncannily similar to our rules:

*  We only play to have fun.  Nobody takes this game all that seriously.

*   We never play for more than a buck—no big money to be made here.(keeping things friendly) 

                                             *  We play a Floating Flannigan (McDonald)—a mulligan that carries over from the first tee and can be used on any tee.

Dodson notes that “when you’re simply out on the golf course enjoying the surroundings and the company, you have achieved the blessed state of stupid happy and reached NATO—Not Attached to Outcome.  Accept what the game gives to you.  That’s the secret to a good round—let it happen.  Golf can become a form of personal therapy and the holy grail.  Golf really isn’t about greatness—it’s about goodness.  Good shots, Good friends.  And ultimately, good memories.”

Our Dewsweeper round yesterday morning morphed into a very hot and humid finish.  After missing about four putts within three feet I also missed my chance to finish into the desired 80’s, so I drove over to our local practice range this morning to specifically work on that distance.  It’s been said that sometimes you stroke it and sometimes you tap it.  The trick is to know which you should do!

Somehow, I had never noticed a memorial bench unobtrusively placed between the practice putting green and chipping green.  Not being a local native, I didn’t know the man memorialized here, but the three words under his name summarized the game of golf nicely, “A Great Friend”.

MISCUES

This morning I accompanied a tournament threesome of American Junior Golf Association players as their scorer using an iPhone app. The world is in good hands with young men like those three from Texas, California and Portugal. They’re obviously still learning the mechanics and head game, but their game has already surpassed mine that has matured over five times the years that they’ve been alive!  They are very focused, driven to succeed and have a low tolerance for mistakes even though those are inevitable in life as we grow.  I found it interesting to reference that "a miscue in billiards and other games results in a failure to strike the ball or shot properly".  I’ve had a lot of miscues in billiards as well as golf over the years.  I mentioned to one of the walking fathers that Tiger Wood’s father wrote in his book about Training a Tiger that he instructed him to take ten steps every time he had a miscue before he did anything else to calm his mind and put it aside in preparation for the next shot.

We talked at lunch that miscues are part of the learning process and an indication that we’re expanding our present boundaries. Each one can be turned into a positive learning experience and we’ll never lose if we remember not to lose the lesson.

And golf imitates life.  I’m still learning and taking ten steps every day.

SOMETHING TO LOVE

Winner’s Check, Blue Hills CC, MO

Trevino, Watson, Couples, Azinger & Davis

I’m lovin’ the lyrics from the songbook of Jason Isbell’s album The Nashville Sound.  Some of the words from the track Something to Love include:

“I hope you find something to love,

Something to do when you feel like giving up.

A song to sing or tale to tell,

Something to love,

it’ll serve you well.

Just find what makes you happy,

And do it till you’re gone.”

I learned this lesson many years ago and it has served me well through those ensuing years.  Its nice to find a job you love so you never have to work another day the rest of your life, but that may simply not be available or not pay enough to support your family.  That’s where it’s important to find something off the clock that doesn’t have to pay anything.  In fact, it will probably cost some bucks which can be funded by your regular job.  And if that activity gives you pleasure and frequently takes your mind off the issues of your primary job for a short time, that’s an investment worth every cent.  As my wife used to say, “that’s much cheaper than therapy”!

The game of golf has provided that diversion for most of my adult life.  It gives me the opportunity to get out into nature and enjoy the company of people that I can be around five hours or so on a regular basis, provided the temperature is above fifty degrees.  Playing the game has opened endless opportunities to expand my personal and business social network way beyond anything I could have imagined.  I enjoy researching and trying all the changes to golf improvement equipment which has kept me in the game all this time.  And trying to keep in the game by staying fit gives me the incentive to join a gym and actually attend it! 

This blog has provided a lot of enjoyment and the release of creative juices that would probably have never been realized without this avenue.  It has provided an outlet combining two interests of both writing and photography.  It inspires me to read more current news articles and human-interest stories, including new releases of non-fiction books.  If I’m going to exchange my limited life hours for the pleasure of reading a book, I not only want to be entertained, but I want to learn something in the process too!  Photography and Creative writing also keep me alert to the world around me for inspiration, including traveling, volunteer work, teaching classes and listening to music. 

And once I discover something to love, you can bet your bottom dollar it’ll serve me well till I’m gone!

WELL PLAYED

The King, RIP, Blue Hills CC, MO.

I learned a good lesson long ago from one of our previous pastors upon his return from dealing with a heart attack. He mentioned that prior to this game-changing event he would frequently get agitated and emotional when things didn’t go his way. That applied in spades when it happened to be something that was out of his Type-A character control. I can concur from personal experience. But, of course, there is always one thing we can control and that’s how we react to the situation. He used the example of a recent airline trip that was delayed due to severe weather in the Kansas City area which can be expected during the violent tornado season. He now simply pulled out a good book that he had brought along for just such an occasion, found a secluded seat in an inactive gate area and waited for the storm to pass.

Ever since I heard those wise words I’ve made it a point to bring a good book along for the ride, especially airline flights where a stranger in the cockpit is in complete control of my life as we soar through the skies in an aluminum tube. I had saved Arnold Palmer’s last book, A Life Well Played, for my recent Thanksgiving trip to Chicago and finished it on the return flight back to North Carolina. Thankfully, all my connections were on time and the book was a good traveling companion. Sadly, it was the last ride into the unfriendly skies for my long-traveled Road Warrior sidekick. The trusty ballistic nylon luggage bag had danced its last with one too many disgruntled baggage handlers. It emerged from the bowels of the airport conveyor belt with a ripped leather handle, a missing ID tag and the tongue of a lonely sock protruding from the wry smile of a broken zipper.

In the chapter on temper Arnold relays the story of throwing his putter in disgust over the gallery and some small trees when he missed a short putt at a junior golf tournament. He won the title but the ride home with his parents was total silence. Then his father told him, “If you ever throw a club like that again, you’ll never play in another golf tournament.” To Arnold’s Pap it was all about sportsmanship, “there was nothing worse than a poor loser—except being an ungracious winner.” Tiger’s dad Earl always told him to walk ten steps before doing anything after a poor golf shot.

That reprimand was life changing and reminded me of my high school tennis “career” where I lettered all three years in a new sport. As the first season progressed I had talked my parents into purchasing a rather expensive glossy black racquet for me. That was the kind of luxury that they seldom treated themselves to in those days. Later, I had observed the older players in practice tossing their racquets out of the court when they were disgusted with a poor shot. So, on one fateful afternoon as I hit a shot just outside the line, I wheeled around and tossed my racquet over the tall fence behind me. And then I watched in horror as it flipped and the frame caught the horizontal support pole which shattered the wooden racquet into a million pieces.

I anxiously returned home like the sad prodigal son. I was repentant and knew that saying all the older boys did the same thing was no good excuse. My parents weren’t happy with the loss of the shiny black racquet and most importantly my behavior. Later, I was informed the racquet would be replaced since I was doing a good job on the courts, but that would be the last one. Arnold finished his account by stating that “I never threw another club again.” Me neither. But I may have dropped a few golf clubs later in life before learning about the ten-step rule. I need to share that tip with a certain baggage handler!

NOT A GAME OF PERFECT

Imperfect Cross, Bethlehem, Israel

A pending Duke Theology graduate and friend shared his learning experience in the Holy Land last Thursday at a breakfast and thoughtfully presented everyone with an olive wood cross that was made in Bethlehem. As the bag of crosses was being passed to me I noticed an odd shaped cross through the clear plastic which I selected. This imperfect cross is slightly out of balance as the horizontal beam leans to one side, unlike the perfect being that willingly sacrificed himself for us on such a cross. There were a lot of crosses in the bag that were more perfect than this one, but it reminded me of the shells that I now pick up at the beach. When we first arrived in the Carolina’s and went shelling on the beach, I would seemingly walk forever to find the perfect shell that was not broken or misshapen or contained any flaws from days of being tumbled in the surf. Then on a much later beach trip, I began to notice the beauty that is in those shell fragments that are broken and polished by the constant pressure of the waves and the storms of life. That was the day that I began to collect those treasures that the bearer of the footsteps ahead of me had left unclaimed.

Our Creator and Savior doesn’t leave us unclaimed either. He created us humans with imperfections in a broken environment and gave us the free will to choose how we live and grow in our lives.

I’ve had two knee joint replacement surgeries and open heart bypass surgery in between them. God has taught me through my shelling experience on the Carolina beaches that the remnant zipper scars from those surgeries are not abhorrent but artistic character lines that were earned in the trenches of this broken world! And many of life’s scars are not visible, but all can be celebrated when God walks with us or even carries us on the beaches of life and helps us emerge safely on the other side of the island.

I know many of you have dabbled in the game of golf over the years and I’ve played the game on and off since I was in college fifty years ago. And one thing that I’ve learned through all those hours on a golf course is that the game of golf imitates life in so many ways. Perhaps that is one of the subconscious reasons so many of us are drawn to the game. It’s also one of those games that can never be mastered, although there are occasions when you pull off a perfect shot and can feel like you are indeed playing in the zone. Life can be like that too!

Over the years I’ve read a couple of the books by a sports psychologist, Dr. Bob Rotella. I find that he has some pretty astute observations on the game of golf and life. One of those quotes I particularly like is that:

“Golf is about how well you accept, respond to and score with your misses, much more than it is a game of perfect shots.”

And there are plenty of times in life where it seems we have absolutely no control over the adverse circumstances that we’re encountering. But we always have one very important control that we need to remember and that’s how we choose to respond to a situation. We always have a response to the hard shanks of life by communicating with our Savior who understands the suffering and pain we humans can encounter in this temporary mortal life. I don’t think it’s possible for any of us to go through life without experiencing pain and suffering. We have a lot of misses in life. It’s not a game of perfect. But when we have a solid foundation of faith based on the Word of God and the promise of His priceless grace and presence for us, we can respond with strength and the sure knowledge that He has us in the grip of His loving hands.

THE PUTTING GAME

Practice, Practice, Practice, Jamestown, NC

Golf is a series of games within the game including driving, long irons or hybrids, short irons and wedges and putting, not to mention the seemingly infinite ways a group of golfers can wager on the overall game like Skins, Bingo, Bango, Bongo, etc. Golfers go to all sorts of extremes to save strokes once they’re on the green. The combination of putter heads, grips and shafts is also off the charts. I do believe, however, that if you no longer trust in a putter it’s time to move on to another one that you do feel can work for you. That little flat stick can make millions for a PGA player. When Jack Nicklaus did the improbable and won the 1986 Masters with an extraordinarily oversized putter head, the immediate backlog of orders saved Macgregor’s year. I know of no one who now uses one of these and even the Golden Bear doesn’t know what happened to that putter, although he thinks one of his sons may have given it away to a friend. If found, it could be worth a cool million to the Golf Hall of Fame.

A golf analyst recently mentioned that Jack believes there is much more of an art to the game of putting versus a science. He noted that he only concentrates on keeping his head still and making contact with the ball squarely in the sweet spot. The rest of the game of putting is an art of sighting the break of the greens, pacing the ball accordingly on that line and willing the ball into the hole. In my case, I’d have to add keeping my feet on the ground and not moving backwards! Jack apparently always told himself “that ball has to go in the hole!”

My putting is admittedly not stellar, as my playing companions will attest. But I’ve experienced days when I really was in that mystical “zone” of mindlessly stroking the ball into the hole. And it doesn’t take long for someone to say “where is Larry and what have you done with him?” Unfortunately, it isn’t long before the old Larry returns. And there are plenty of instruction books on the subject like Zen Putting, The Art of Putting and Your 15th Club that promote leading you to the promised land of one putt greens. One of the best teachers of the putting game, Dave Stockton, says there’s way too much over thinking going on in putting. He doesn’t even believe in a practice swing because it interferes with your brain’s autopilot that has already figured out how to make the putt. That’s considered “getting out of your own way” with too much mind chatter.

I always try to be philosophic when driving the golf cart back to the club house after holing out on the 18th green by repeating “if this game were easy we wouldn’t come back.” And the devil always seems to let you make a good putting stroke on 17 or 18 just so you don’t get too discouraged, throw your golf bag with your car keys into a nearby lake (which just swallowed your next to last ball) because he wants you back again so he can mess with your head and dance with you on the greens.

YOGOLFISMS

Lookin' Left, High Point, NC

(With apologies to Yogi)

• Ninety percent of golf is played on over 7,000 yards of heavenly green grasses. The other half is played on hell’s half acre.
• OK, we’ll determine the first tee order alphabetically by height.
• When you come to a fork in the cart path, take it.
• You can’t think and hit the golf ball at the same time.
• Nobody plays that golf course anymore. It’s too crowded.
• A nickel Bingo point ain’t worth a dime anymore.
• Hitting a provisional shot into the hazard is déjà vu all over again!
• Even if you’re lying five off the green on a par five, just remember that it ain’t over ‘till it’s over.
• If golfers don’t call for a tee time at your golf course, how are you gonna stop them?
• I usually play a four-hour round of golf from 1 to 6.
• I don’t play much winter golf ‘cause of my 50 degree rule and it gets late early out there.
• I practice putting by pairing off three golf balls at different distances.
• Slump? I ain’t in no slump. I just ain’t scoring.
• You can observe a lot by watching how the pros throw their putter into a lake.

MASTERS GOLF

Spring Azalea, Jamestown, NC
Masters Suspended, Getty Images

It’s been said that a good golf course is heaven at a lower altitude. And April in the southeast welcomes azaleas, sunshine, and April showers. Those April rain showers resurrect the land and all that’s green, including some of the most beautiful real estate on earth. The first full week of April signals the arrival of The Masters Golf Tournament played in Augusta, Georgia. This is the first of four majors played each season which marks the career of all winners. Even casual golf fans will tune in to watch the Masters just for the beautiful scenery if nothing else. I had always longed to be there in person. Just the names of some of the holes at Augusta give you the idea such as Pink Dogwood (2), Flowering Peach (3), Flowering Crab Apple (4), Magnolia (5), Yellow Jasmine (8), and Carolina Cherry (9) on the front nine. It’s a spring ritual like nothing else for those of us who love to play the game and admire those who have come as close as human beings can come to mastering the game—at least mastering the game well enough to better most other human beings. Leading up to the 2006 tournament there had been seven out of eight Masters experiencing a rain delay in Georgia.

The legendary Bobby Jones envisioned the course and the first Augusta National tournament was played in 1934. The tournament is steeped in tradition. A green jacket has been awarded to the winner ever since 1949 and it is retained at the clubhouse for the golfer’s use every Tuesday before the tournament at the Champions Dinner. Honorary past champions hit the first tee ball to commence every tournament. A par 3 contest is played on Wednesday in a family-friendly atmosphere where many players go out of their way to lose, since no winner has ever won the regular event. Historically, fans arriving early can place their portable chairs around the ropes and leave them there to be undisturbed whenever they return. A disruptive fan with a pass can also immediately have it confiscated for life. Caddies must wear a uniform consisting of a white jumpsuit, a green Masters cap, and white tennis shoes. The defending champion always receives caddy number 1.

Tickets to the actual tournament are sold only to members of a patrons list which is closed. People are said to keep tournament tickets in the family for years, but there are a limited number of tickets available on the internet where demand far outstrips supply. I had my first knee joint replacement at the beginning of 2006, followed by a heart attack on my first day of therapy, followed immediately with a stint, followed by quadruple bypass six weeks later. As I was starting my heart surgery recovery therapy, I received a call from the owner and president of the company I had been consulting with in Mexico. He calmly informed me that he had just acquired an incentive on the internet for me to get back on the job. He now had three tickets to the Masters and one of them was mine if I could get my doctor’s approval to board a plane to Atlanta in eight weeks. I made it!

I flew into Atlanta just before the tournament and the three of us stayed on an estate that was primarily an expansive man cave with a driving range, shooting range, indoor batting cage, television rooms, bar, game room, pool tables, etc. We got up early on Saturday morning after the night’s violent storms and drove through tornado debris on the outskirts of Atlanta. The weather was ominous but we arrived in the unpretentious town of Augusta, parked in a remote lot and made our way to the course. My companions asked me to check out rental seats as we made our way into the course in the madding crowd. That’s the last time I saw them until after the rain delay. Cell phones and cameras were forbidden on the course, which made it impossible to communicate. We had agreed to meet by a telephone complex, but we never made contact there either.

Fortunately we had distributed our tickets as we departed the SUV in the parking lot. I finally entered the course through security and it was indeed enchanting and even more like hallowed ground than seen on television. The grounds were lush from all the rain and flowering blooms were almost everywhere you turned. I took the time to route myself through a nearby permanent merchandise building where I purchased a golf shirt, an umbrella and two Masters hats, one promised for my physical therapist. Then I made my way over to the telephone complex where I did not find my two companions. So I walked to a green and just took in the experience of being at the Masters. We made it for a few hours and then the lightning and thunder of another approaching storm became more ominous. In minutes the rain began and sirens sounded to suspend play. A loud speaker was encouraging fans to leave the premises and return to their vehicles until the all clear siren was sounded. Once again I made my way to the telephone complex but could not find my travelling companions, so I decided to walk to the SUV to see if they were there. They were not and I did not have the keys.

I walked back to the main gate in the rain to regroup with the telephones where it turned out my companions were waiting on me and getting more impatient by the hour. That’s when I began to lose my star-struck innocence at the Masters. A gate attendant (bridge troll) wearing a green jacket barred my return. That wasn’t mentioned in the loud speaker address. I was told that once you leave the course during a rain delay you cannot reenter even though there were still plenty of people inside the gates. I proceeded to provide the litany of trials that I had overcome to get to this place and this time. It didn’t matter to the green jacket. I asked to speak to a supervisor. Another green jacket was summoned. I repeated my sad story. It didn’t matter to the green jacket. I asked to quickly slip just inside the gates by the telephones to get my friends and leave again, but it didn’t matter to the green jackets. So, I stood outside the gates of paradise in the cold rain with my fresh zippers on my left knee and my chest getting colder and wetter. Finally my two companions walked to the gate and we all agreed to blow the joint! So much for the fantasy of paradise!

We drove back to the man cave complex outside Atlanta, had a couple beers with some warm food and watched the conclusion of day three on the big screen television in dry clothing. The next day we slept in and spent the balance of the day watching the final round where Phil Mickelson hit the brilliant 207 yard six iron off the pine straw on 13 through two pine trees and onto the green over menacing Rae’s Creek for a birdie and a two shot lead to clinch the 70th Masters major championship. And I still look forward every April to welcome spring by watching the tournament on television. But be careful what you wish for because I also still wince every time I see one of those green jackets!

IRISH GOLF

Towering Tee, Internet Domain

I’ve had only one opportunity to play golf close to its beginnings when I was on a corporate team that was installing and training for an MRP operations system at one of our subsidiaries. We were working in a small town just outside Belfast in County Down, Northern Ireland. We had walked into the midst of a thirty year period now known as “The Troubles” where the Protestant majority wanted to remain part of the United Kingdom and the Catholic minority was pushing to become part of the Republic of Ireland. By the time we arrived on the scene, the British government had imposed direct rule on the area from London in an attempt to quell the unrest. Ultimately, 50,000 people were adversely impacted by the violence. The company car that had been reserved for our use had been blown up by police the week prior to our arrival, since it had been recovered as stolen. Stolen cars were generally wired booby-traps. There were recurring news accounts of men being “knee-capped” or shot in the knees in drive-by reprisals. We were instructed to always be seated in a restaurant with our backs to the wall and eyes to the front door after being checked for weapons in case someone busted into the room shooting.

Our small team was working long hours for two solid weeks to prepare for the systems installation. That left us with a Saturday for some R&R before we turned on the new system and began the rigorous process of debugging and trouble shooting. So we discussed the possibility of playing a round of golf on one of the local historic courses to stay out of harm’s way. It was early spring and the winds coming off the white capped Strangford Lough were raw and cold. Our hosts at work arranged for golf clubs and a tee time for three of us. I was very fortunate to find a wool stocking hat that evening which proved to be a life saver.

We arrived at Scrabo Golf Club early on Saturday morning. Green fees included 18 holes and a pint of beer. The famous landmark Scrabo Tower overlooking the course was built as a memorial to the 3rd Marquis of Londonderry. From this vantage point on a clear day you can see the coast of Southern Scotland, Northern England and the Isle of Man. Christy O’Connor has written that the formidable opening hole is “awe-inspiring and terrifying. You get to see the entire hole rising above you. There are glorious views and your drive rifles up a hill flanked by razor-sharp gorse. At the top sits Scrabo Tower and the green. Two mighty shots are required.”

We were quickly introduced to intersecting fairways which really gets your attention. There were blind shots all over the course due to the gorse covered contours of Scrabo Hill. I hit what seemed to be at least a 300 yard five iron to a par 3 green because I over shot it into the wind and my undersized ball sailed down into the depths of the lough. One of my playing companions stepped off the front of a tee box, slipped on the wet grass, and immediately disappeared from sight down the hill. Errant balls that found the dense gorse were lost for all time. The raw winds coming off the lough were bone chilling and numbing. My two partners saw their escape chance as we trudged close to the shelter of the clubhouse on the 15th green and they bailed on me. But I was determined to finish my one opportunity to play a round of golf in the cradle of its creation, so I soldiered on. When I finally stumbled into the clubhouse and a warm fireplace, my companions asked how I shot. With no sane golfers left on the course as witness, I softly muttered through my chattering teeth and a wry smile, “All birdies!”

PLAYING OUTSIDE THE ROPES

Touche' Ball, Greensboro National GC, Summerfield, NC

One of the old sayings in golf is that “hazards attract, fairways repel”. If you’ve watched much professional golf on television or live, you’ve probably observed that the fairways and greens are always roped off. These containment barriers are used mainly to hold back the fans and keep them out of play and harms’ way. I’ve only played one round of golf within the confines of the ropes when I participated in a Pro-Am tournament at Inverness in Florida. It was a weird experience in many ways including having physical boundaries within the prime real estate of staying well inbounds. And of course, life is also best played within the ropes.

All too often we weekend golfers find ourselves outside the ropes on many of our golf shots. Many low country courses have vast waste areas that have been left native to the area. Midwestern courses have tall grassy rough areas that are almost impossible to locate errant balls. Heavily wooded country that has had courses selectively logged to cut out the fairways for a golf course present their own challenges, but at least they do yield the occasional tree monkey shots that careen back into the fairway off a tree trunk. And then there are all the water hazards in the form of oceans, lakes and small holding ponds where many players have ritualistically drowned or baptized their golf ball on the edges or deep in the center. A good rule of thumb when hitting over water is that you can either hit one more club or two more balls.

The Players Stadium Course at TPC Sawgrass in Florida where Pete and Alice Dye created the diabolical signature par 3, 137 yard 17th hole is probably one of the most infamous island greens surrounded by water. The 17th is considered by many to be the most intimidating hole in the game. Mark Calcavecchia once stated that “It’s like having a 3 o’clock appointment for a root canal”. It’s been said that golfers who have been watching play on this green for years and finally have the chance to play it will hit balls until they either hit the green or run out of golf balls. The PGA estimates that over 100,000 balls find the water around the island green every year. And the 18th is a 462 yard par 4 formidable finishing hole with water all along the left side of the fairway that gathers in its share of golf balls. Ironically, the professional players did not like the course when it first opened due to the severity of play. Jack Nicklaus was quoted as saying, “I’ve never been very good at stopping a 5-iron on the hood of a car” and J. C. Snead called the course “90 percent horse manure and 10 percent luck”. Dye tweaked the course soon after and it’s now considered one of the greatest tests of golf.

But never fear, if there is an opportunity for golf equipment manufactures to sell any kind of gear, they’ll come up with something. And so the product of choice for any golfer who has hit into a hazard or brush, but most especially water, is the now infamous ball retriever! Many golf balls find their way under the ropes and into the water on the roll. So many of them can be spotted just out of reach. That’s where a telescoping retriever pays for itself in just a few rounds, depending on the skill of the owner. Of course, this generates more than just a few wise cracks on the course such as “My retriever wasn’t long enough to get my putter out of the tree” or “I always get my retriever regripped right along with my clubs”. And we must be vigilant of our role as a hunter not a gatherer, lest our dreams are no longer of conquest but only of salvage!

THE GREAT MIGRATION

Migrating Wildebeests, Internet Domain

I was out wandering the green, rain soaked fairways of Sedgefield Country Club in Greensboro, NC, today in hot and humid August weather while observing the PGA Wyndham Championship. This year’s tournament took a turn for the better as one of the sport’s shining lights, albeit a dimming one, Tiger Woods, announced late that he would participate for the first time. The bad news is that this hasn’t been a good year for Tiger and he’s in danger of missing out on the lucrative playoffs for the season. But the good news is that his presence immediately prompted the sponsors to crank out thousands more tickets for the event and secure more parking space for the golf fans.

I had watched Tiger in his more competitive days in Charlotte at the Quail Hollow tournament. And it was first in Charlotte that the phenomenon of the superstar was first graphically illustrated to me. We had maneuvered about three holes ahead of Tiger’s group and were patiently waiting in a grandstand for them to approach the green. The fans began to slowly migrate around the ropes on either side of the fairway as the empty grandstand seats began to fill. By the time his group had made their way up to the green thousands of fans lined the fairway and the stands were packed beyond capacity. The same phenomenon was no doubt also occurring on national television. That’s when I first associated what I was visually witnessing with the great wildebeest migration in the endless African Serengeti and Masai-Mara ecosystems!

The annual odyssey of two million wildebeest grazers including 300,000 calves follows a regular circular pattern over an endless journey of 1,200 miles in search of green pastures. It's one of the greatest wonders of the natural world. One of the key events in this journey involves the perilous crossing of the Mara River between July and October. The wildebeest must navigate many hazards including ravenous predators such as lions and leopards that follow the vast herds and take out the weak stragglers. Then when the migrants begin crossing the Masai-Mara River in narrow groups, massive five-meter long crocodiles lying in wait attack them from the unseen depths of the water. Thousands of wildebeests never finish the circle of life each year. In October the herds turn the corner and head back to the Serengeti as the rainy season starts in Tanzania.

The game of golf also follows a rather circuitous path as individuals who religiously practice the sport engage in the game of playing fetch with yourself. We depart the first tee and circle around to the ninth green next to the clubhouse. Then we repeat another cycle off the back nine and again return to the clubhouse. The path is fraught with obstacles like sand bunkers, water hazards and even predators if you’re the betting type. But unlike the lions pursuing the massive herds on the Serengeti, the massive herds pursue the Tigers in golf. The fans anxiously move in lock step as they approach their prey. Occasionally, they even obtain a trophy autograph in their frenzied obsession. The majority are appreciative and well-mannered with the exception of a few stragglers who have obviously stumbled onto the occasional clump of locoweed. Apparently it triggers random outbursts of gibberish like “You the man!” and “Get in the hole!” which can become very annoying. I also observed a few red-shirted men wired for communication walking inside the ropes with the Tiger, presumably for security. Now, there’s a switch!

As we witnessed once again today, when their prey is finished grazing on the green and makes the turn to the back nine in search of greener fairways, the madding crowd likewise evaporates within minutes. And you have to wonder, if the Tiger walks into a perilous water hazard, will the worshiping herd blindly follow?

FAIR

Summertime Celebration, Wrighsville Beach, NC
Cheers, Kiawah Island Ocean Course, SC

Summertime Arnold Palmers

Golf imitates life and neither are fair. Fair is where clowns, cotton candy and pig judging happen. When golf gives you triple bogey snowmen and life brings you lemons, celebrate summertime with an iced Arnold Palmer!

THAT’S LIFE

Golf in the Kingdom, Asheville, NC

The 2013 Masters Golf Tournament this past April weekend provided a lot of viewing enjoyment and didn’t disappoint! It also provided two very gritty playoff performances by the winner Adam Scott of Australia and Angel Cabrera of Argentina.

Many in the sporting world thought Scott would have been permanently scarred by his devastating loss in last year’s British Open. He was four strokes ahead with four holes left to play and he lost the golden major ring by one stroke. Some said that demons would haunt him until he quit the game. Instead, he used the experience as inspiration to try again, saying the Open gave him belief that he could compete and win a major.

Cabrera was ranked 269th in the world coming into this year’s Masters. One sports writer wryly observed that he “seems to fall out of the sky every now and then, find his footing on a golf course and contend in a major”. He won the 2009 Masters on the second playoff hole by doing just that.

All the fortunes of the day once again distilled down to the second playoff hole as a light rain overhead slowed the putting surfaces below. Angel’s birdie putt was on a track to fall dead into the hole, but it pulled up frustratingly close to the edge. Scott’s twelve foot birdie had just enough extra velocity to drop in for the victory.

Cabrera was gracious and philosophic when asked how he felt after walking off the green. He mused through an interpreter, “Golf gives and takes, so sometimes you make those putts, sometimes you just miss them, but that’s golf”. I’ve joined others in observing how much the game of golf mirrors life. And Angel’s words echo the opening lines of Frank Sinatra’s 1960’s hit; “That’s Life, that’s what people say. You’re riding high in April, shot down in May.” But the victory for Scott also echoed the second verse of that very popular song that caught folks’ imaginations; “That’s life, funny as it seems. Some people get their kicks, steppin’ on dreams. But I just can’t let it get me down, ‘cause this big old world keeps spinnin’ around.”

In the immortal words of Jimmy Buffett, “I’m just hangin’ on while this old world keeps spinnin’. And it’s good to know it’s out of my control…Just enjoy this ride on my trip around the sun. Just enjoy this ride till it’s done”.