The Best In Golf

Mother’s Day 2010

May 8, 2010 · Leave a Comment

Mothers Day is today.  When I was a kid I used to say “Why isn’t there a kid’s day?”  My Mom would say dragging out the first sylable…evvveryday is kids day.”  You too?

Well she of course was right about this and everything else she used to say including what a good son I was.

I’ve devoted this space to Mom before and between us friends when I need a good cry I go back and read it.  It may sound arrogant to tell you I bring myself to tears once a year but really it’s more sincere than false, and I love it every time.

But that was then and this is now.  I want to tell you about my good wife and the Mother she has turned out to be.  You can tell by the photo above that at 23 she  was (and is)  a stunner.  A head turning beauty with more charm than sense.  When her Dad, the Rev. Dr. Claiborne Bell, ushered me into his office to ask for her hand, he was as kind as he was concerned.  For that I am forever grateful.

A Catholic boy with questionable prospects was going to take his light away…he was a learned man but more than that he was a man of faith…faith in young people and real or imagined, faith in me.

A few years later we had welcomed two boys into our world and family and ever since Audrey has been devoted to them in every beautiful sense of the word.  As little boys I was a Friday- Sunday Dad.  Off to here or there to make a living and a career…calling home at bath time from a 5-star resort in Scottsdale, Sea Island, or Hawaii…it’s what we did.

She on the other hand gave up her life for them.  She was there for the first smile, walk, words, and post-diaper moment.  Audrey left CNN on all day just to hear adults’ voices…tough stuff at times for someone with a wonderful way with people and a very good education…but it’s what we did.

What was the return?

Two exceptionally grounded kids with many accomplishments behind them and countless ones ahead. Every hour you spent at home will continue to pay dividends.

I want to say publically honey that it was you and all you…and it was worth it.

Happy Mother’s Day, you’re The Best In Golf.

Love,

Your “Boys”

→ Leave a CommentCategories: Moms · Uncategorized

Masters Report, Part 2 of 2

April 15, 2010 · 4 Comments

My parents, George and Connie, are bit of a  shall we say, unusual story.

George wasn’t a child of the depression, he was already an adult.  Born in 1904,   Theodore Roosevelt was to be reelected that fall after the assassination of William McKinley and would go on to to win 32 states with over 7 million votes.

By comparison Barack Obama won 28 states and just shy of 70 million popular votes..it was a different time.

George was a Golf Pro…check that, he was an Old Pro.

Connie had an  interesting childhood to say the least…which over a Grey Goose I would be more than happy to take you through…for the sake of time and privacy though suffice it to say she grew up in trying circumstances to become one of the people in life you just gravitate to, a person you might want to be like…she lacked the ability to judge people by their appearance, religion, or any other differentiation we force on each other…a beach girl with all the moves…she was 22 years younger than George.

I tell you all this for a reason…it’s Masters Report Part 2.

We left home at the reasonable hour of 4:00 PM  Wednesday, making our way to Aiken,  SC.

The next day Michael, 17, David, 14, and Audrey, timeless,  would experience their first Masters,  As I may have mentioned in a previous post, my old friend Fred Warren put it best.  ”I only want to go if I can take someone for the first time.”

Brilliant, that described our adventure.

We took Old Hwy 78 through the country to Aiken.  The Dogwoods, Plums, and Forsythia were in all their glory…stop here for a little tip.  When you  can stay off the interstate in the South in the Spring, do it…it’s more than worth the hour you lose.

We had dinner in downtown Aiken.  It was just a pleasant coincidence that 62 years earlier to the day, George and Connie were married a block from where we had Jalapeño Poppers and Patty Melts…they were married during The Masters on April 7, 1948…Bobby Locke, the South African golfer, was the Best Man. That same year he would win  The Chicago Victory Open by 16 and in the next 10 years three British Opens…the boy could golf his ball.

Never really heard the whole story but who cares?  Just try to  imagine the suits everyone wore.

Then not so early to bed thanks to friends Meg, Laura, Joe, and Patty.

Next day broke bright and warm as it should be in Jaw-Ja in April.  We made our way to the course at the un-Godly hour of 10.  I was teaching my boys that it’s not quantity at The Big One but quality…they had no trouble staying in bed.

The rest of our magic day:

10:00 – 11:30 Amen Corner in the bleachers behind 12 tee, several pre-lunch pimento cheese sandwiches consumed

11:45-12:30- a tour of the Press building by friend Geoff Russell.  Several celebrity spottings but no more important than the young and intrepid reporter from The Fort Worth Press,  Dan Jenkins.  He was enjoying a late  morning Marlboro when I approached him.  All I wanted was for Mike and Dave to remember they met him at The Masters (his 53rd) when they were young.  He was gracious and friendly, mission accomplished and  dead solid perfect.

12:30-3:00- more food, a little sweet tea, and some wandering around the course by the boys.  Audrey and I had worn ourselves out from the hills so we sat under the big tree.  His Tigerness teed off at 1:47, a sight to see and a sound to hear…all was forgiven by the reaction of the patrons that day. During their travels the boys witnessed Phil’s first eagle of the week at 13 … they delivered a stellar report of the event.

A few hundred bucks in the concession “tent”  and out of there… home fishing on the dock at 7:20…martini at my right hand.

For the first time ever we all watched the broadcast together all day Sunday… coincidence?

What a day.

→ 4 CommentsCategories: Dads · Masters · Moms

Masters Report Part 1 of 2

April 9, 2010 · 1 Comment

It was 1994 when Audrey and I moved to Atlanta.  We had each “served” 10 years or more in Chicago with the good and the bad.  The good being lifelong friends who we still laugh with, the bad being 5:00 wake-up calls to move the car before the snow plow buried you for several days.

Upon arrival to the heart of the new south I started working with a new group of neat people, many of whom I am still connected.  Ed Butler, who for the last 8 years has been my business partner, was my boss and Freddy Warren, then my co-worker, now a bitch of a competitor at Links Magazine.

But the guy who made my week this week was Steve Howard…let me explain.  First though a quick story.

When “SH” and I were first getting to know each other he asked me if I had ever been to a “bigtime”  college football game.  He’s a Georgia Bulldog and as all southerners know college football in the south is King, Queen, Prince and Princess.  Wanting to sound at least somewhat traveled I replied that I’d been to USC-Notre Dame, Michigan-Ohio State and was there the day Northwestern clinched their first Rose Bowl since ’49.

“No” he replied, “I’m talking about BIGTIME  college football”…’nuff said.

On to our topic…about 1997 or so the practice rounds at The Masters had gotten out of hand.  The usual routine of selling tickets the day of had become as antiquated as the mashie-niblick.  For whatever reason (Tiger) the world had awakened to the fact that one could lay down 10 bucks and stroll the fairways of Jones, Hogan, Palmer, and The Bear.

So what they did was pure Green Jacket.  They created a lottery for practice round tickets.  We all filled out the form,  anxiously awaiting word…Steve was the only winner.

Fast forward a couple years and I’m sitting in my office minding my own business.  Steve intercoms me and tells me to come down to his office right away, something was afoot.

He had just received a letter from Augusta National.  They explained in “The Letter”  that they  had cut off the waiting list when The Rockford Files was the number one show on TV and needed to replenish.  Steve, the letter continued, could expect to be the owner of Masters badges within a few years.

This obviously shocked us as we read the letter for the fifth time and sure enough the next year Steve was a badge holder to the most prestigiuous sporting event in the world…not the state, not the country, but the world.

So this year I called him back in March and told him of my lament that my kids and great wife had never seen The Masters.

His response was swift and typical of him.  The badges were mine to take the family.  Wow what a conversation.

Next post…the day itself.

→ 1 CommentCategories: Masters

On The Eve of Something Different…

April 3, 2010 · 1 Comment

About a year ago, plus or minus, my son Michael was born.  He came into the world in a not so usual way.  After several hours of labor he was on his way.

Audrey  worked as hard as a looper lugging a Burton leather bag uphill at Oakmont in the summer, and was  understandably wrecked to say the least… but something was wrong.

The jovial “we’ve done this a hundred times this month” attitude of the OB and nurses vanished.  His umbilical chord was wrapped around his neck and every second mattered.  I was too scared to lend any sort of support I’m embarrassed to say and the combination of Audrey’s strength and the Ivy League education of the Doctor and the ice-in-the-veins calm of the nurses pulled it out in the end.

I assure you Jack never made a 4-footer to win a major with more quiet confidence.

His little brother David came along just a few weeks later  with a lot less fanfare but an equal amount  of hard work by his Mother. Fulfilling my part with the style and aplomb my friends have come to expect, I  inhaled a nice piece of cherry pie in the cafeteria a few minutes before the delivery.  Never let it be said I didn’t shine at the moment of truth with gritty determination…no ice cream on the pie but a half pack of Marlboro Lights outside the maternity ward.

A few days later on the way back to the hospital I informed Big Bro that we were heading to McDonald’s and then would be retrieving Mom and baby brother to bring them home.  ”Oh No” said The Heir…we could visit them but no way was The Spare coming home with us…and he was serious.

It seems as I write this that  I’ve made a slight error.  They weren’t born this year…it only seems that way to a me.  They are in fact almost 18 and almost 15…an Eagle Scout and a soon to be Eagle Scout.  A 4.0 + student looking at colleges and an equally good student upstairs either playing his violin or his Stratocaster….two respectful, smart boys who always have the time to help with no questions asked.

Don’t let anyone tell you the youth of today are in trouble…I have mine and know many of my friend’s kids who prove they are better than we were in every way.

Where in the world has it gone?

It’s Spring Break.  As long as my boys have been alive Masters Week has been Spring Break.  I spent the first few days in Augusta with clients having fun, drinking Kettle One and Silver Oak…rare beef and bluebird sky rounds of golf with a caddie.

No complaints to be sure, it was important to the business…and just plain crazy fun.

It occurred to me about the middle of last summer though that in a very short time they will be off on the adventure that is the rest of their lives…not mine, but theirs…and they had never been to The Masters.

I on the other hand had become bored with it.  Too much trouble with the traffic and the crowds…I was too cool to care…what a spoiled brat I had become.

Thankfully though I woke up from my near-end-of- round nap and am taking them this year on Thursday.  The irony of it being Tiger’s reboot isn’t lost on any of us.  His first day back will be my first day walking down the hill at 10 with my boys…circling down 11 and at 12 and, if there’s room, hanging out in the grandstand for a couple hours.  My hope is we will share our first pimento cheese sandwich there.  This is about us.

I’ll say “Hogan always waited to feel the breeze on his cheek before teeing of on #12″ sounding smart and not knowing or caring in the least if the legend is true.  We’ll sit by 16 green, trudge up 17 and 18, and head home.

Don’t wait…next post,  The Masters  Report.

→ 1 CommentCategories: Masters · Moms

I Hit A Golf Shot Today…

February 19, 2010 · 2 Comments

After three weeks of swinging my weighted club, watching what I eat, and dreaming of Royal Dornoch, I hit a real golf shot today.

It was a  6-iron on the par- 3 fifth at Cassique on Kiawah Island, SC.  What makes it cool is, depending on the previous hole,  you either play a ball busting uphill par 3 or a downhill easy one shotter where most of the holes-in-one in the county are made.

Ours today was the more difficult of the two.  My shot wasn’t close…Mark E. Mark hit it a lot closer and made birdie…but my shot was as good as I’ve hit it in months.  The road is long but I think I can make it.

→ 2 CommentsCategories: Uncategorized

The Doctor Is In And He Wants To See You…Tomorrow

February 5, 2010 · 3 Comments

This space has been dedicated to  the “Old Pro” before.  He defines the profession.  I knew that 15 years ago when our paths first crossed but last week he made par from the parking lot.

If you read my previous post on how, after a lifelong love affair with the ancient game, I found myself shooting 90 and caring zero.    It’s not that I stopped liking golf…no it was much worse than that,  I couldn’t care less.

Fast forward a few days and I’m on my way to the PGA Show in Orlando.  I’m just about to Jacksonville when the phone rings.

“Ricky, It’s your Pro.”  Not it’s Mike, but “Your Pro.”

Proey, what’s shakin?”

“What’s shakin’ is I read your BLOG and I need to see you”

“Love to see you Pro, what’s up?”

“If you’ve lost it for golf then that’s my business…I am your Golf Doctor and I want to see you, dig?”

So here it was.  Mike Harmon, the Old Pro, loved by every member at Secession, at least the ones that matter, called me to tell me he was taking my malaise for the dimpled grape to heart…it was “his business”.  Whoa.  The montage that had become my game meant more to him than it did to me…what in the world can you say about that?

He asked me how much of my recent downturn in enthusiasm had to do with how I was playing.  Fair question, it’s probably about 50%.  His prescription (it wasn’t advice) was to swing a weighted club 30 times a day in a specific manner.  He would show me when I saw him…fair enough.

I’m walking the golfer’s candy store trail which is the PGA Show an hour before my Doctor’s appointment when by karma I find myself squarely in the middle of the training aids section of the floor.  I look and look, talk and talk, and am convinced that I have found the gold standard in weighted clubs…of course you have heard of it, most of you own at least one I’m sure, yes… The Orange Whip.

Scared to purchase the Masters of all training clubs before I see my Pro, I take the brochure, supremely confident that Mike will give the all green to purchase.

The appointment came and my excitement waned as my Pro told me to throw away the brochure I had brought on the Orange Whip…he wasn’t interested.

“How many old sand wedges do you have?”  Only about 20 says I.

“Take one and saw it off.  Put it against another and duct tape them together…that’s your weighted club.”

That’s not Old School, that’s just School.

So we set aside a few minutes out of  our busy days and got together.

He cares about my golf game…how cool is that?

I wish I had something to teach him because he showed me something that day.

→ 3 CommentsCategories: Uncategorized

Same As It Ever Was

January 23, 2010 · 8 Comments

I like Google News…always have.  It gives me headlines from several categories…national news…entertainment, sports, etc.  I can read coverage of the same event  from the Christian Science Monitor and the NY Times…that to me is useful, and cool.

It also helped me figure out why this is the first post on B.I.G in several months.

Quite simply I lost it.  Not that anyone but me really noticed or cared, but the game left me.  I enjoyed playing it only rarely and in circumstances I controlled. Who I played with , what  course, etc. all became far too important.  Slinging a carry bag over my shoulder for nine late in the afternoon was neither appealing or happening.

This morning (Saturday) started about as perfectly as one can.  I woke up early to a quiet house, made some coffee, and settled in to indulge the only addiction I have left…that’s right,  fishing shows.  My particular favorite is Hunt For Big Fish (VS. Network, 7:00 AM) where Larry Dahlberg, a true Minnasotan in every “Hey Stan wutcha eatin’ der ?” sort of way, travels the globe under the guise of catching fish…what he’s really there for is to make fun of the people and the culture he’s exploring…uniquely American.

One Larryism and then I promise to move on.   “The difference between fishin’ for Wolffish in the Amazon and fishin’ for Pike back home is the Pike won’t try to bite your leg off for catchin’ ‘em.”

That’s right Virgina, there’s only Rednecks in the South.

Back to Google.  Two stories were directly across from each other.  The first was in US News and was about Scott Brown and his game-changing win in the Massachusetts Senate race. The other was in Sports and reported on Tiger checking into a sex rehab clinic in Mississippi.  How are these related?  Only to me.

You see they both represent badly needed do – overs…resets, restarts.   As a small businessman I know first hand the need for healthcare reform.  My little company’s coverage is adequate and more and more expensive every year. The system needs an oil change.  But I don’t like the rush through it was getting before Christmas from the Obama/Pelosi/Reed squad.  Anything this important needs buy-in from all…not just the majority…my opiniion only.

I  don’t think about healthcare every day.

Golf on the other hand is far more a part of life for me.  I was raised around it, went to college, met my great wife, and take  care of my family  because of it.  Then why over the last few years have I become less and less interested in it?

I think I figured it out.

I don’t blame Tiger Woods.  Repeat, I don’t blame Tiger Woods.  In a hyper-celebrity, media saturated world came along the greatest golfer of all time…sorry Jack fans but that’s just the  facts.  He captivated the world, won majors in dramatic ways, smiled at us, and made almost a billion bucks in the process.  Nothing wrong with that even if it were two bill…I’m a capitalist too.

But what happened to the game is what I mourn.  All of a sudden it wasn’t  little anymore where goobers played $2 Nassaus with their buddies at the muni, grabbed a dog and went home to mow the lawn.  It became million dollar lots on golf courses, $500 greens fees at resorts, drivers that cost as much as a vacation, and Donald Trump.

Well I don’t like Donald Trump.  And I miss the little things that make golf fun…at least I used to.  I’m pretty sure they are going to come back.  The game is shrinking.  That’s not a bad thing.  It’s a good thing.  It will find its natural level again and be better for it.

Fat cats won’t join the latest club on Long Island where you  take a helicopter in to make your tee time. Think for a second about just how sick that sentence is.  They won’t join them, not because they don’t have the money,because there will be plenty of that, but for a much more important reason…it will be unseemly.

We need to get our manners and our perspective back.  And thanks to Tiger’s downfall I think we have a fighting chance.  I hope he comes back and wins 20 more majors…I honestly do.  But it won’t be as important as it once was.

Yes I miss the way it used to be.  But I’m playing at 1:15 tomorrow with three great pals.  We are carrying our clubs and the stakes will be two $6 pitchers of beer…and for the first time in a long time I can’t wait.

→ 8 CommentsCategories: Rants

The Golf Pro Diaries-Member Guest Cont’d

October 11, 2009 · 3 Comments

plNow Spike Lemon, otherwise known as The Old Pro,  has been the golf professional at Angel Oak for almost a quarter century and in that time has seen some pretty amazing sites in the Member – Guest.

Like the time former Governor and 10- time State Am champ M. Tubby LaMoore shot 32 putting with his ball retriever.  You see there was little choice after tomahawking his 8802  into the swamp behind two green.

His victim in that 9 -hole match was club president M.F. Ferris, who later said of the exhibition “Tubby hit it in there tight as Dick’s hatband on every hole and rolled it in with that damned ball retriever…man that was a show!”

Gushed LaMoore after the victory, “ever since I took a lesson from that one-armed blind fella I’ve been hittin’ it purer than a Mama’s love.  Just can’t wait to get up to Pineville and defend the Carolina Four-Ball Dixie Seniors…man the Guv’s gonna bee-devil and bee-guile those choppers.  God Bless America!”

The Member Guest was about to start, the most anticipated event on the club calandar.  All were in high spirits on the eve of the competition, all but new member Porter James that is.

To be continued y’all.

→ 3 CommentsCategories: The Golf Pro Diaries

Trendy B.I.G.

October 1, 2009 · Leave a Comment

As all Best In Golf loyalists know, we’re big on trendy here at the ol’ Blog.  If those snappy designs came in a little more athletic sizes (XXL +) we would be a lot moreso, that’s for sure.

Heard from O.O.T.G. (One of the Greats) today…the original…The Wizard of Wilshire.   He was filling me in on this great new company and website getting off the ground out there in the land of whey shakes and sprout burgers…Trendy Golf.

Well if The Wiz gives it one of his boney little thumbs up, that’s good enough for me…check it out.

→ Leave a CommentCategories: Uncategorized

Where Did You Learn The Ancient Game?

September 27, 2009 · 3 Comments

cornell3 Something strange  and wonderful happpened to me last weekend and I’d like to share it with you.

A wedding in the family, my beautiful and talented niece Rosie was wed…my oldest brother George was the father of the bride.

It was a lovely affair in the countryside of upstate New York…Ithaca to be specific.

Ithaca in many ways is the land that time forgot…at least since the 60′s that is.   No interstates, lots of  old – fashioned dairy stores, and enough ponytails, Birkenstocks,  and Subarus to start your own commune.

It’s also the home of Cornell University and  where I grew up…kind of.

My Dad, George Sr., was an Old Pro (definition here), the Golf Coach and Golf Professional for the “Big Red” from 1937-1972 when he retired.  He was the personification of the club pro of that era.  You see we traveled as a family between Florida and New York loosely on the schedule of the Eastern Goose…that’s how it was done.

When the leaves turned we headed south and when the flowers started blooming it was time to get back to work. My parents would probably be reported to Family Services these days for a lifestyle like that but I’m here to tell you that a little travel and diversity can be a great education for a kid.

Back to my story.  My niece’s wedding was the perfect opportunity to take Michael and David to the place I grew up in the summer…a boy’s road trip. At 14 and 17 they had never been there…I hadn’t been there since college.

When George suggested a game  it was an instant yes.

cornell1I could see the pull carts in the corner and smell the grass.  The little tractor we used to pick  the range with…range balls that were Top Flites, Blue Dots, and smiley Titleists painted with a red stripe.

Cornell University Golf Club, as it was called in my childhood, was Robert Trent Jones’ (Cornell ’30) very first effort.  It has 10 holes (#1-#6, #10-#12, #18) that would stand up anywhere,  just superb.  That’s 18 from the fairway to the right.

September is track time, and while we were playing the cross-country team was training along the perimeter of the golf course…just one of the many quirky things that make college towns so cool.

The highlights were Michael’s drive on number one…none of us could remember seeing a ball that close to the green…and David’s lipout chip for birdie on six.

The chance to walk the fairways where I learned the game  with my boys and a few clubs was pure magic, at least for me.  They on the other hand liked the cheeseburgers at The Moakley House afterward…but that’s OK,  so did I.

So what’s your story?  Where were you when you first learned of the passion and the grief of golf?

→ 3 CommentsCategories: Dads