Where Did You Learn The Ancient Game?

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.

I 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?