Golf Club Atlas
GolfClubAtlas.com => Golf Course Architecture => Topic started by: Jeff_Brauer on December 20, 2013, 10:28:10 AM
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In TD's cost thread, caddies were mentioned. I think we had a similar thread years ago, but what are your memorable caddie experiences, specifically, caddie insults directed your way or to a member of your group?
Playing TOC at an ASGCA meeting, my playing partner, after slicing nearly a dozen OB, decided on the 18th that there was NO way he was going to plunk the hotel or cars just right of the fw, aimed way left, and then double crossed it, hitting OB over the right of No. 1 FW.
Caddy thinks a minute and says, "Well, I've never seen that, but I've only been here 42 years......"
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Not a huge insult, but a bit of a zinger:
After hitting my tee shot in the water on 17 at Kiawah, I ask "Is there a drop area" and get back from the caddy "You're standing on it."
Best caddy I ever had was at Sawgrass. It was in a tournament and he loosened me up by getting me talking about college basketball most of the day. Was good friends with Jonas Blixt and had some good stories to tell.
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I took my first ever caddy when I played Boston GC in August with Thomas Dunne. Tom said he was one of the finest he had come across. The guy instinctively knew everything. I was lucky.
Still, I would have preferred the game carrying my own bag. I really don't understand the attraction.
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On the attraction of caddies, I agree with you when they're nothing more than bag-carriers. It's nice to not have to rake bunkers, but not worth the money. However, when they're what I would call career caddies, I think there's a definite benefit.
My guy at Sawgrass definitely saved me a few shots in a tournament round. First, he saved me from being my stupid self. He looked at my lies in the Bermuda rough and clubbed me....I wanted to hit a 5 iron once, and he said "No way...you can't get more than an 8 iron on that." I also told him before we teed off that I'm from the North and have a hard time judging the grain on Bermuda greens. He was very helpful there too. A guy like that is more than a bag-carrier, he's a teammate.
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At Chambers Bay, I started off terribly. My caddie pulled me aside and told me I would never see anyone in my group again (I showed up as a single), so who cares how I play. He then started walking me through shot by shot until I got back to normal. He also caddied for Cliff Kresge a lot and had a lot of good stories. I would say the caddie was a big part of making that an enjoyable round for me.
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Not an insult, but certainly memorable. I had a caddy who had an interesting way of communicating green reads.
Me: I see about a cup outside left. What do you think?
Caddy: I'd play it out a little further. It's more like a "B" cup.
For the rest of the day, putting lines ranged from A's to DD's and never failed to get a chuckle.
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Played in Ireland in 2002 with my two brothers and father. Our first course out of the gate was Old Head. We drew a caddy named Tom. He was giant with fingers like potato spuds. His idea of a conversation was pointing which way the green broke and that was it. My brother Jeff was playing extremely well and as we approached the 17th par 5 Jeff was thinking of going for the green in two. He crushed a driver into the wind and in the fairway pulled another driver. This time he topped it about 4 feet. The caddy reached for another club, but Jeff declined. This time he striped a driver to about 2 feet at which point Tom spoke more words than he had spoken all day, "Nice shot sunshine." We all smiled and still smile to this day about that day.
Forgive the old photo but this was before digital. As you could guess Tom is the caddy on the left.
(http://i1344.photobucket.com/albums/p643/jrbgolfs/b583909d-7e5c-4db4-8516-91a181a53347_zps341fd0b5.jpg) (http://s1344.photobucket.com/user/jrbgolfs/media/b583909d-7e5c-4db4-8516-91a181a53347_zps341fd0b5.jpg.html)
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Playing in China.
Young female caddy informs me that a steep looking roll on the green will, "Only break one puttah."
"Really?"
"One puttah."
So I trust her and it breaks, not two inches, but thee feet. "One putter, huh?"
Caddy holds her arms about 36 inches apart. "One puttah!"
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Played Butler National one day. Not well, mind you, but I was having fun. My caddie was an entitled sort of a guy whose father was the CEO of a national rental truck company. (I learned that on the second tee.). I had a blind second shot on a par five and I couldn't see where it went. I caught up to his forecaddying position and asked him where it ended up. "You'll never believe it. In the middle of the fairway!" I sent his smug ass back to the shack.
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Seems like some of the newer clubs have very good caddies, people that are young and eager.
I've had good and bad at the older club. First time I played Cypress Point the guy was a pro trying to make it on the mini tours. Next time I had a guy who was mad at the world and wouldn't talk.
First time I played TOC the guy was 80 years old and wore a trench coat. He had been up all night.
This year playing Mayacama with Ran we had a 30 year old guy who really worked hard. He literally jogged a good portion of the time.
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I've got some good ones, most versions of stories told before.
But a memorable one was this year. Playing St Andrews Old with my father for my 40th and his 70th birthday. We get set up with two fantastic caddies and let them know I'm a 6 index and my father is a 19. A small match with two locals in our group ensues. We're having a great day, and I am even par through 16, striking the ball as well as I have all year. We get to 17 and I proceed to knock one dead into the hotel, just a horrible golf swing. I plug in again, and as is usually the case pump one on a perfect line. I hand my driver to the caddy and mutter a few bombs about ruining a great round with that swing, and he calmly puts his arm on my shoulder and says "I've been waiting on that one since you went out in 1 under"
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Favorite was on the short 1st hole at Westchester CC where my host knocks it to 10 feet for birdie and three putts. The caddie looks at him and says" You know sir three putting is a lot like jerking off. You feel real bad about it but you know you are going to do it again". Plenty of laughter ensued and kicked off a great day.
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The best caddie I ever had was at Whistling Straits. He's double bagging me and by golfing buddy.
We are on #7 tee box waiting for the group ahead. I go and eat a snack and get a drink of water. When the green clears he walks to the back of both our bags to club us, and steps on my buddy's banana that he pulled out to snack on.
He bends down grabs the destroyed fruit, holds it up high and announces "Sorry boss I stepped on your banana!"
It's become a running joke when we are at a course and see bananas around. I'm sure people are passing judgment that we are crazy.
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It was 1995 and two of us decided to break from the group and hop over from Glasgow to Ulster. A dour old Scot who clearly hates Americans suggested taking Logan Airlines - which turned out to be a fleet of cardboard boxes, with rusty Sopwith Camel engines duct taped to balsa wood wings. It was too far to swim the Firth of Clyde, so we said our prayers and boarded with the least attractive stewardess in the history of commercial aviation.
Two airsickness bags later, the plane somehow landed in one piece so we rented a six-speed hatchback and blasted off to Newcastle on the left side of the road, trying to figure out traffic circles on a pitch-black moonless night. We stopped at what looked like a quasi-legitimate roadside eatery staffed by a chain-smoking waitress who, after snappily fetching two pints, disappeared never to be seen again.
The kitchen had a swinging door with a broken hinge, hanging by a thread from the dry-rotted frame. Both our stomachs had emptied somewhere over the ocean so we were hungry enough to seek out the cook, a Pakistani fellow puffing away on Gitanes, listening to a cacophonous din of Arabic yodeling on a dirty cassette deck covered with grease.
Thinking at worst this would make a good story someday, I inquired as to the house specialty. Abdul (no clue, but we'll call him that) barked that everyone came for his chicken and rice, motioning us to wait at our table. Since there was no waitress, we helped ourselves to another couple of pints and a snifter of Jameson under the theory that whiskey would kill whatever was in the food.
45 minutes later, out tottered Abdul with two steaming plates of boiled chicken, crunchy rice and what looked suspiciously like fried tree bark dripping in curdled butter. We gingerly took the dull knives and bent forks that passed for cutlery and sliced into our culinary masterpieces, hitting pussy-pink meat right below the skin.
Reasoning that not even Irish whiskey would kill salmonella, we left 40 Pounds on the table and drove off with two bottles of Jameson and a basket of crackers. Not an auspicious start to our side trip, but at least we had our golf clubs, a decent map and the promise of a comfortable B&B about 60 Kilometers down the road.
To be continued:
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last year I played Mayacama- my first time with a caddie-
I was practicing on the range just hitting bee bee's when my caddie introduced himself to me..I froze
I couldnt hit the ball anymore- got the shanks- it was horrible
I shot 63 on the front 9 with someone that was nice enough to host me- was so pissed.
we made the turn and the caddie comes over to me and smacks my arm and says are you going to stop f-ing around and play, i saw your swing on the range...
i shot 39 on the back- and he got a healthy tip for it
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Season long four ball match play event semi finals. The biggest challenge with such events is actually scheduling the matches. My partner negotiates for weeks to schedule the round which can only be played at 5pm in August meaning that darkness could become an issue if the match is close.
An all out pillow fight ensues and we reach the 18th green even as the sun is beginning to set in the western sky. We turn back into the sun, halve the first hole and face the hobson's choice of either finishing the match in the dark or trying to schedule a time to play a hole or two. We decide to play on.
I block it right in some pine trees and it is really dark there. I manage to punch a shot along the ground onto the green. My two putt is enough to win the match. Our caddie, my partner and I all congratulate each other and start walking back to the clubhouse. I hand my caddie the putter and look to his shoulder and then to the panicked expression on his face. He left my clubs somewhere! It turned out they were in the trees.
We mentioned that incident a few times with the caddie over that season. He is now graduating from college and will do very well in life.
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To be continued:
TO BE CONTINUED?!?!?
YOU SONUFABEACH...DON'T LEAVE US HANGING LIKE THAT!!!
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Darn. Had my reply all ready:
Do you really have to choose?
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Me: "Will we find that one?"
Caddie (in a great Irish accent): "Find it? Fuck, we aren't going to even look for it!"
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I got to know a lot of caddies the times I was down in South Africa. One of them, Jumbo, used to invite me in to Soweto to play a round in Soweto CC but with one thing or another never got around to it, until the last time I was down there in March 2008. Jumbo wasn't around but one of the other caddies, Matt, took me there.
We had lunch and headed down to Soweto, on the journey down he was telling me that he was on a housing list waiting for a house. He was on the list 3 years at the time and could be waiting up to 8 years for a house. We stopped off at Soweto CC to have a look around. It was a damp early Autumn's day so we didn't play. During the week they used branches for flagsticks and at weekends used flagsticks.
Here's Matt holding a 'flagstick'
(http://i212.photobucket.com/albums/cc235/pdools/18-03-08_1545.jpg) (http://s212.photobucket.com/user/pdools/media/18-03-08_1545.jpg.html)
And a couple of other poor quality grainy images of the course.
(http://i212.photobucket.com/albums/cc235/pdools/18-03-08_1549.jpg) (http://s212.photobucket.com/user/pdools/media/18-03-08_1549.jpg.html)
Can just make out the branch on the right hand side of the green
(http://i212.photobucket.com/albums/cc235/pdools/18-03-08_1551.jpg) (http://s212.photobucket.com/user/pdools/media/18-03-08_1551.jpg.html)
Distance Marker
(http://i212.photobucket.com/albums/cc235/pdools/18-03-08_1547.jpg) (http://s212.photobucket.com/user/pdools/media/18-03-08_1547.jpg.html)
We proceeded on to where he was staying. Matt was a pretty good caddy and would have worked regularly on the Sunshine Tour during the season and in Randpark when tournaments weren't on. He was also a pretty good player as well. So he had a regular income and would have made good enough money in comparison to some of the other residents in Soweto, where there would have been up to 70% unemployment in areas of it. He was staying in a rented room at the back of another house, in the room where his girlfriend and son also lived was a double bed, on either side of the double bed was a bedside cabinet and about a meters room to each wall and there was also about 2 meters from the end of the bed to the wall, where there was some cabinets, a tv, microwave and an electric hob.
We headed on to the Hector Pieterson Museum which chronicles the events around a Police Massacre in 1976
Hector was one of the slain children and here is a photo of him being carried away by another child.
(http://i212.photobucket.com/albums/cc235/pdools/18-03-08_1626.jpg) (http://s212.photobucket.com/user/pdools/media/18-03-08_1626.jpg.html)
After the museum just before I headed back to Jo'Burg's Northern Suburbs, we headed to a large shopping mall, the Maponya Mall, with the conspicuous consumption associated with every shopping mall around the world there, which really contrasted greatly with the thousands struggling to make a living not too many meters from its doors.
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I have hundreds of caddy stories, both as a player and as a caddy. I'll think of a few good ones.
But I want to talk about one of the coolest caddy programs I have ever seen: Beverly CC in Chicago. (Thanks to Terry Lavin and Jack Crisham!) They only use high school kids, and each kid carries only one bag. (The club wants to support the local Southside Chicago community and has a policy against full-time "professional" caddies, they even discourage college-age caddies.)
They were clearly only bag carriers, and made no pretense about being able to read your putts or suggesting a club. But there was always one or two kids forecaddying, there was not a hint of a lost ball, and they were standing next to your ball when you get there. (That is a major plus to me, an unabashed fusspot about caddy techniques, I hate waiting for my caddy to arrive!)
Each kid carried a container of divot mix and filled in your divots.
We had two boys and two girls in our group, and they all were enthusiastic and happy for the opportunity to make $70 or $80 for their time.
If you are from Australia, the UK or Ireland, you'll never understand what a refreshing change this was from the caddy experience at most private clubs in the US. But I loved it, and still chuckle when thinking back to the thought of these little troupes of people all over the course: four golfers and four young caddies. It was wonderful.
PS: I left the club on a tight time schedule and went straight to the airport. When I arrived back in New Jersey, I realized that my caddy had accidentally left her divot mix attached to my golf bag. Naturally, I scattered that mix as well as I could in my front yard in the hope of introducing a good bent grass strain, and hopefully I'll be able to bring the container back soon!
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One of my favorite poems. The Caddie
Whilst God did create many a mystery
Few match those who lie
None create such as he
Who tells the story
Golf
The shot of days gone by
He of bounce gone a wry
Wit so quick story of lore
Without the truth
No more a crushing bore
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Not quite what you are asking.
Best caddie experience was at Sebonack. The guy was called Aussie Dave. Really added to a great experience.
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I am not sure if he is still there but I heard my chap may be dealing cards in Atlantic City.
The doyen of the lot has to be Rocco Carbone Jnr., at Pine Valley. His business card reads "Distances from anywhere".
He could make a living as a comedian.
Bob
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He has Bob. Absolutely!
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It was 1995 and two of us decided to break from the group and hop over from Glasgow to Ulster. A dour old Scot who clearly hates Americans suggested taking Logan Airlines - which turned out to be a fleet of cardboard boxes, with rusty Sopwith Camel engines duct taped to balsa wood wings. It was too far to swim the Firth of Clyde, so we said our prayers and boarded with the least attractive stewardess in the history of commercial aviation.
Two airsickness bags later, the plane somehow landed in one piece so we rented a six-speed hatchback and blasted off to Newcastle on the left side of the road, trying to figure out traffic circles on a pitch-black moonless night. We stopped at what looked like a quasi-legitimate roadside eatery staffed by a chain-smoking waitress who, after snappily fetching two pints, disappeared never to be seen again.
The kitchen had a swinging door with a broken hinge, hanging by a thread from the dry-rotted frame. Both our stomachs had emptied somewhere over the ocean so we were hungry enough to seek out the cook, a Pakistani fellow puffing away on Gitanes, listening to a cacophonous din of Arabic yodeling on a dirty cassette deck covered with grease.
Thinking at worst this would make a good story someday, I inquired as to the house specialty. Abdul (no clue, but we'll call him that) barked that everyone came for his chicken and rice, motioning us to wait at our table. Since there was no waitress, we helped ourselves to another couple of pints and a snifter of Jameson under the theory that whiskey would kill whatever was in the chicken.
45 minutes later, out tottered Abdul with two steaming plates of boiled chicken, crunchy rice and what looked suspiciously like fried tree bark dripping in curdled butter. We gingerly took the dull knives and bent forks that passed for cutlery and sliced into our culinary masterpieces, hitting pussy-pink meat right below the skin.
Reasoning that not even Irish whiskey would kill salmonella, we left 40 Pounds on the table and drove off with two bottles of Jameson and a basket of crackers. Not an auspicious start to our side trip, but at least we had our golf clubs, a decent map and the promise of a comfortable B&B about 60 Kilometers down the road.
To be continued:
Gib,
Thanks for taking the time to share this one. I'd love to think you're hatching a plan to put it and many more of your misadventures into a book or screenplay. If not, part deux will do. For now!
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At St Andrews I had a caddy called Sandy who was great. He was like an old friend after just a few holes. We played the New Course early in the morning and I was leaving a lot of putts short. After about 4 or 5 woefully short putts on the front nine, he takes my ball to clean it and sets it down at my marker but instead of my ball it was a pink ball.
When we were teeing off on the Old Course that afternoon the starter reminded us to tip the caddies if they do a good job. I told the starter that Sandy was the same caddy from the morning round and that I think we compensated him quite nicely. I turned to Sandy and asked if he thought he was fairly compensated and without pause he said, "you don't think I'd be here now if you hadn't laddie."
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Would be remiss not to share this Scotland caddy story, again from the 1995 ASGCA meeting there. Schedule called for the overnight flight and a 10 AM tee time after a bus ride. They had arranged a bunch of caddies for our large group, including school kids allowed out of school and some older vets.
I was tired, and sleeping in the back of the bus, and thus, the last one off. All the caddies had been chosen, except for one obviously drunken caddie, who became mine. Tee off, walking down the first fairway and the other caddie comes over to me and asks if I know who my caddie is? How would I know, I just got off the bus?
"It's Alfie, man. Alfie, who caddied for all 5 of Tom Watsons championships. Watson even let him hold the trophy!" (I looked up the picture later....) Well, he was lots of fun. When RTJ II heard who he was, he demanded him, since he had worked with Watson at Spanish Bay. Okay, rank has privilege, I guess (although I was the incoming President, so there was some debate....) Alfie settled it the next day. Our groups happened to be on adjacent fairways, and he dropped Jones bag, came over, dragged my 15 year old caddie back. "He's too serious, and you are a lot more fun, so I'm coming back to you!"
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Had a frustrating caddie experience that you just can't help but look back on and laugh. I was playing BMCC with my good friend Nigel Islam. First it started that there would be 1 caddie for our two bags and so only 1 caddie fee (plus tip of. course) but when we got our bags there was a caddie holding Nigels bag and someone holding mine. Assumably a caddie. So off we go. As we were walking down the first hole I asked what kind of grass they had on the course? He replied yep nice grass. So I asked more specific just what grass were the greens? He replied uh you know uh maybe you could ask someone else.
A few other questions and answers.
I was behind a tree on a par 5 and was wanting to know the distance to 100 yards out. He answered that yeah it would be a good place. Well how far do I need to hit it. He says down that way and maybe to the right a little. With slight anger I gold him I understand where it is but how far away is it. He answers a pretty good hit away.
Teeing off on a 420 yard par 4 my caddie hands me driver and walks off down the fairway. I tee off and hit a good drive down the left side. I get to my ball to find my caddie digging it out of a lake. He says whew you hit that good but the fairway runs out into this lake. You prob should have hit an iron or something!
There are more of these stories from just this one round but I think you get the point! Haha frustrating (oh yeah had to pay him the full caddie fee)
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This isn't quite what the original post asked for, but still my favorite caddie moment. Like Marc's story, it also occurred in a group with Nigel.
I met Nigel back in July when he happened to be in town around the Fourth. We met up for a round at my club that also included two local friends of mine. One of those friends was my buddy Jack, a 6'5" former college basketball player who probably plays about three rounds of golf a year. He's a really nice, really easygoing, very strong guy who probably would play to about a 37 handicap.
My club runs a very strong Evans' Scholar caddie program, so we picked up four high school kids to caddie for us. Jack had never played with a caddie before, and the caddiemaster matched him up with one of two girl loopers at our club. She's also by far my favorite - a chatty and easygoing teenager with a mess of curly red hair and freckles who, much like Jack, knows very little about golf but approaches the game with a ton of earnestness and enthusiasm.
On the first tee Jack turns to her and asks "So, what's my strategy on this hole?"
"Well, honestly, I don't know a lot about golf," explains the caddie. "But you definitely want to hit out toward the stripey grass and try to get it in the hole fast."
"Awesome!" says Jack, with a real confidence gained from hearing her simple explanation. He then proceeds to snap hook a ball about 120 yards forward and 150 yards left.
Five or six shots later, he's still 160 yards out and on a very steep downslope in thick rough. He turns to his caddie and asks, "You got any advice for how to hit this?"
She smiles the biggest sympathetic smile I've ever seen and says, with an amazing blend of sincerity, optimism, and naivete, "Umm, just keep doing your best!"
I've never seen a better blend of two personalities between caddie and golfer than that day, nor an odder blend physically. A chubby redheaded high schooler and the athletic lawyer towering almost two feet above her, walking the course through four hours of rain and a solid 130 strokes, chewing 10th Tee bars and drinking Gatorade and chatting and smiling the entire time. I'm not a huge fan of caddie golf, but those kids added a lot to the round that day.
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One of my favorite poems. The Caddie
Whilst God did create many a mystery
Few match those who lie
None create such as he
Who tells the story
Golf
The shot of days gone by
He of bounce gone a wry
Wit so quick story of lore
Without the truth
No more a crushing bore
That's great. A preemptive strike.
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I really enjoy taking a caddie and especially like supporting caddie programs, especially ones that get teenagers and young adults into the game. My first job was as a caddie and it still maybe my favorite today...
I have been lucky to have some great rounds at some great clubs - most of them with a caddie, but undoubtedly, my favorite caddie experience was with Tim Bert at this year's HHH.
I started a thread about his epic day this summer - the link is below...
http://www.golfclubatlas.com/forum/index.php/topic,56098.0.html
My favorite part of the day and one of my favorite golfing moments from this summer was this exchange:
There are many highlights from my Hike with Tim, but perhaps my favorite was this exchange on our 115th hole of the day. By this point, I had converted over to my set of T. Stewart hickories, I had lost about five pounds, changed shirts four times, socks six times, and shoes three times. I was quickly losing interest (truthfully, already lost some interest), probably in some sort of early dehydration, and in desperate need of a shower and a beer.
Here is how our exchange went when I tried to pull a club for an approach shot...
CH: Just give me the Spade Mashie.
TB: It looks more like a Mashie to me...
CH: Spade Mashie.
TB: I like the Mashie.
I could do nothing more than laugh...
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Solely at the behest of the Kingsley GCA contingent I'll retell this caddy tale, which is perhaps more enthralling after 6 beers and a couple of scotches around a fire pit in Northern Michigan...:
I was playing a match at an outing at Lake Shore Country Club in Glencoe, IL with my former boss, who I was also quite friendly with. We came to a par 5 at a critical juncture in the match, by which point liquor and bravado had of course raised the stakes to where even the simplest tap-in had significant pucker factor. I was just off the green with a make-able uphill chip for par, while my boss was barely on the far back right of the green with a 50 foot downhill slider for birdie over a significant ridge in the green. I was preparing to play as I was off the green even though he was further away as I figured if I could chip it close it would put significant pressure on his putt. My caddy, a 14 year old kid who weighed 120 pounds wet had pulled the flag at my behest. Given the gravity and gamesmanship opportunity of the situation I was taking my time. My boss is getting extremely antsy at my stalling tactics and says to the kid in the most condescending tone "You mind replacing the pin, I'm away here." The kid does as he's told and I retort "If you even scare the effing hole from there, I'll give this kid a hundred bucks". Of course he proceeds to drain a one in a hundred putt. I solemlny walk up to the kid, peel off a crisp $100 bill and hand it to him at which point he looks at me incredulously and says "I thought you were kidding?!" and I reply, with the appropriate pregnant pause, "Son, NEVER joke about money"... It was apparently the talk of the caddy shack for the remainder of the summer.
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This isn't quite what the original post asked for, but still my favorite caddie moment. Like Marc's story, it also occurred in a group with Nigel.
I met Nigel back in July when he happened to be in town around the Fourth. We met up for a round at my club that also included two local friends of mine. One of those friends was my buddy Jack, a 6'5" former college basketball player who probably plays about three rounds of golf a year. He's a really nice, really easygoing, very strong guy who probably would play to about a 37 handicap.
My club runs a very strong Evans' Scholar caddie program, so we picked up four high school kids to caddie for us. Jack had never played with a caddie before, and the caddiemaster matched him up with one of two girl loopers at our club. She's also by far my favorite - a chatty and easygoing teenager with a mess of curly red hair and freckles who, much like Jack, knows very little about golf but approaches the game with a ton of earnestness and enthusiasm.
On the first tee Jack turns to her and asks "So, what's my strategy on this hole?"
"Well, honestly, I don't know a lot about golf," explains the caddie. "But you definitely want to hit out toward the stripey grass and try to get it in the hole fast."
"Awesome!" says Jack, with a real confidence gained from hearing her simple explanation. He then proceeds to snap hook a ball about 120 yards forward and 150 yards left.
Five or six shots later, he's still 160 yards out and on a very steep downslope in thick rough. He turns to his caddie and asks, "You got any advice for how to hit this?"
She smiles the biggest sympathetic smile I've ever seen and says, with an amazing blend of sincerity, optimism, and naivete, "Umm, just keep doing your best!"
I've never seen a better blend of two personalities between caddie and golfer than that day, nor an odder blend physically. A chubby redheaded high schooler and the athletic lawyer towering almost two feet above her, walking the course through four hours of rain and a solid 130 strokes, chewing 10th Tee bars and drinking Gatorade and chatting and smiling the entire time. I'm not a huge fan of caddie golf, but those kids added a lot to the round that day.
I had forgotten about that. I guess the motto of the story is avoid taking caddies if I am in your group. 8)
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Terry Lavin (and another GC'er I cannot remember his name), Bill Steele and myself played our Sunday round at Lost Dunes and the caddy (cannot remember his name either!) was great. He is Mike Ditka's regular caddy and he told us the story about how Mike Ditka went off wile playing and tossed his Cameron putter way out into the middle of the lake. The caddy walked to the edge of the lake to see where it landed. Ditka asked him why the hell he was watching it, and the caddy said that he was going to retrieve it after he got off work. Ditka, not knowing how shallow the lake was, told him if he walked into the water he "could have the putter". The caddy retrieved it, and he said it had Ditka's name engraved on it as well as a a Bob O'link logo. He has it hanging in his house as a conversation piece. Pretty funny.
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My wife (30 handicap) was playing at Aronimink last year on an open day. She hit a tee shot over a hill and found it in the rough but with a great lie despite some tall grass around it. A few holes later the exact same thing occurred. She asked the caddy if he had moved her ball as it seemed to be an incredible stroke of luck to get those lies. His response was "We are here to have a nice day, aren't we?" Neither confirmed nor denied, but she got the message and laughed.
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My best experience when when I looped for Laura at our club championship. I was the only person looping for the ladies, and it was match play. She was playing a friend who's a good stick and a good friend.
Laura ended losing 3&2, but she played well against a much better player. When were done, the opponent smiled and said, "It felt like it was 2 against 1 out there!"
The next year, about half of the players had their husbands looping for them :)
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Great story Dan, it is funny how it only takes one person to get people thinking
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I was playing Merion a few weeks back and my caddies name was Steve- awesome caddie- played on the mini-tours in the Arizona area in the off season.
He read ever putt perfectly-and by the fifth hole - he knew exactly what club to give me by watching my previous shots-
One thing I do when I play with a caddie is ask him/her for stories . Do they get a lot of good players or mostly bad players.
He told me this story-
So he has this guy that is struggling like crazy- he gets an 12 on the first hole ( par 4 ) and a 15 on the second hole ( par 5 ).
The guy asks the caddie - what do I put on the score card ? Dont we stop at 8.
The response he wanted to say but couldnt " If you were going to stop at 8, then pick up the F-ing ball after 8 and stop making me look for it"
Talk about someone that slows the game down
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What are the chances? Last October on a three week Scotland trip, two different caddies, at two different courses, both told me the biggest a.....e they ever caddied for was Dan Quayle. The details were a bit different but the gist was the same. Just a world class jerk.
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What are the chances? Last October on a three week Scotland trip, two different caddies, at two different courses, both told me the biggest a.....e they ever caddied for was Dan Quayle. The details were a bit different but the gist was the same. Just a world class jerk.
Mr. Potatoe-Head!
;)
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I've had several really good enjoyable experiences with caddies. A few were memorable, and only 1 or 2 I would say was a waste. Among my most memorable:
1. Playing Kingsbarns, I had a caddy Gavin. He was probably 20 or 21 but had caddied for a number of guys in the Dunhill. Anyway, I get around in 37 on the front and as we're walking up to the 10th tee, my friend asks me "What'd ya shoot? 42?" Gavin blurts out and retorts "F*** 42, it was a 37." While my buddy was teeing off on 10, Gavin proceeded to stuff all my trash (coke bottle, snickers wrapper, etc) into my buddies golf bag (where the clubs go, not in the pockets) and mutters under his breath "Here's your f***ing 42." To this day, no one in our group shoots a 42, it's a f*** 42.
2. Playing the Old Course, I had hit an awful tee shot on 13 way left and was blocked out from view of the green by the large mound. I asked my caddy how far it was and he replied "ah, tis a 3-wood and a taxi from here." I laughed and figured I'd take a swipe at a 3-wood. When my ball crept on the front edge, my caddy took my club and said "beep beep."
3. Playing Troon, we had a guy in our group that was playing horribly and visibly shaken. So his caddy starts talking to him about alcohol and finally gets the guy to open up a bit. The guy says that he's a big fan of scotch and that while his game sucks, he's a scratch handicap when it comes to drinking. The caddy points to another caddy in the group who had been stumbling all over the place from the first tee and says "see that guy up there? He's a +4."
4. My last memorable one was the first round I played on the Ocean Course @ Kiawah. I can't remember the guy's name, but I remember he had played baseball at UConn and was working at Kiawah while getting his masters at the College of Charleston. I was playing in the afternoon in August and there was no one teeing off within an hour of me either side. So it was just the two of us walking the Ocean Course and talking about everything. He pointed out stuff you'd never notice in a normal round of golf (and certainly not in a cart) and we had a great time with the course mostly to ourselves. I had a rough start (+6 through 5) but he settled me down and I played the rest of the round even par to shoot 78.
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Most of my limited caddie experiences have been positive and humorous. I’ve told this one before, but worth repeating. Playing the old course, I quickly learned my caddie didn’t play golf and couldn’t read putts. He was the dour type and didn’t say much. The other caddie in our group could read putts and was funny and outgoing. I had this very lofted fairway metal I carried instead of 4 iron. It was called a “Loft Wood” by Ping and just had a “L” on the sole. My buddies soon dubbed it my lesbian wood. Early in the round I automatically asked for my lesbian wood. Puzzled, I had to show him the club. For some reason for the rest of the round I kept hearing “Dave, I think it’s a lesbian.” I hit it well all day.
At the end of the round, the other caddie came over noted that I hit my lesbian wood pretty well. He then looked at my shoes, Nike running shoe styled golf shoes, and asked “are those the new Nikes for dikes, the ones with extra long tongues that you can get off with one finger?” We ended up sharing a few pints at the Dunvegan.
The one cool thing my caddie did that day was at the 10th, the short par 4 playing downwind in a good breeze. I hit my drive, turned and handed him the driver. Without a word or a change of expression, he handed me my putter.
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Opening day at Pacific Dunes and I am playing the most wretched golf of my life by a wide margin, to the point that I am truly thinking about giving up the game of golf. I ask my caddy (a good golfer as I remember) if he knew anyone in the market for clubs. He said he didn't and went on to recommend that I mention the virgin sweet spots in my ad. That cracked me up and my game showed some signs of life by the end of the day. His comment turned my trip around. Still have those Wilson Staffs.
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What are the chances? Last October on a three week Scotland trip, two different caddies, at two different courses, both told me the biggest a.....e they ever caddied for was Dan Quayle. The details were a bit different but the gist was the same. Just a world class jerk.
I'd like to hear some details.
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A couple of years ago I was playing May River. Nobody in my group was playing well, but we were all so pleasantly surprised with the quality of the course we were enjoying ourselves greatly and the caddies were great sports. Along about the end of the front nine, all four of us hit good approach shots and, upon reaching the green, found all four inside five feet or so. One of the caddies announces loudly "Damn! Brokeback Mountain!!" We all looked at him and someone asked what the hell he meant. He responded.....
"Two pairs of balls both close to the hole."
It was ten minutes before we could putt......
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Jamey: That was a good one....coffee spray onto the laptop screen!!
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Playing Royal Portrush a few years ago and while the round starting out with hope and anticipation, it quickly went south with me hacking may way thru the front nine. My caddie, George, was in his mid-70s, had played plenty of golf but recently had to give up the game because of various ailments. I began to moan and complain about my shots and finally turned to George, whining about how I was playing, frustrated to come all this way and play so poorly. George turned and look me up and down carefully, finally saying "Laddie, I'd be happy to change places with ya" in his Irish brogue. I felt like an idiot but embraced the message and said "How right you are George". From that point on, I stopped feeling sorry for myself, picked up my game and had a wonderful day. I'll never forget George and his message and hope he is well.
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Back in the day, the old Jewish guys who played a big money game expected...nay...WANTED you to cheat, to move the ball; they got pissed off when there was a marginal lie or situation that they deemed was "fixable..." which was nearly always.
And not only did we perform the boots, punts, kicks, shuffles, rake-outs, whacking with putters, carrying on the back of a putter, using the ball retriever from 15 yards away...all of it, but we got into the ethos of it too. sometimes I'd set one of my fellows up, "like a winter rule," give him a miraculous opening 40 yards up from where his ball originally lie, sitting perfectly on the one mild tuft of good grass for acres...and he'd flub the damn thing into a bunker and I'd cry..."Most best work ruined!" or "Pearls to swine" as I shoved the wedge into his hand...
But sometimes, you physically did not have enough time to get to a ball...if two, or three or all four (these guys took carts and I had their putters) were in trouble, I had to scramble to improve any of them.
I am sure the quickest verbal thinking I ever did was when JW's ball was hopelessly stymied in the crotch of a tree and I had not had time to extract it elsewhere...it was too late...they had already driven up. Upon seeing his unplayable position, JW, who called every teenage caddie there, "Tiger," bellowed, "Hey Tiger, what the fuck is this?" while pointing to the lodged ball. Embarrassed and on the spot in front of the whole group, , I mouthed the only answer that might exonerate me: "You shoulda seen where it WAS!"
These sixty-five year old guys fell out of the carts laughing (one player laughed so hard he farted, which only doubled our laughter and tripled our memory of it)
Now that I'm back to summer caddying, I recycle that line frequently--especially when I haven't moved the ball---and it never fails to bring a smile to my players.
The absolute best line ever was given to me by my asst caddiemaster who was playing with me and standing up by the green, while I had an blind lob approach up a greenside hill. I couldn't even see the flag but I knew I kinda did it ok and I called up to Kevin, "How is it?" He shouted down, "It's like anal sex; it's tight and you're going to love it!"
I relish the opportunity to repeat that for my players.
cheers
vk
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VKmetz,
I've never seen anyone get an obstructed lie in the woods at PV.
Is that an "old Jewish club" ?
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VKmetz,
I've never seen anyone get an obstructed lie in the woods at PV.
Is that an "old Jewish club" ?
really?
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Back in the day, the old Jewish guys who played a big money game expected...nay...WANTED you to cheat, to move the ball; they got pissed off when there was a marginal lie or situation that they deemed was "fixable..." which was nearly always.
And not only did we perform the boots, punts, kicks, shuffles, rake-outs, whacking with putters, carrying on the back of a putter, using the ball retriever from 15 yards away...all of it, but we got into the ethos of it too. sometimes I'd set one of my fellows up, "like a winter rule," give him a miraculous opening 40 yards up from where his ball originally lie, sitting perfectly on the one mild tuft of good grass for acres...and he'd flub the damn thing into a bunker and I'd cry..."Most best work ruined!" or "Pearls to swine" as I shoved the wedge into his hand...
But sometimes, you physically did not have enough time to get to a ball...if two, or three or all four (these guys took carts and I had their putters) were in trouble, I had to scramble to improve any of them.
I am sure the quickest verbal thinking I ever did was when JW's ball was hopelessly stymied in the crotch of a tree and I had not had time to extract it elsewhere...it was too late...they had already driven up. Upon seeing his unplayable position, JW, who called every teenage caddie there, "Tiger," bellowed, "Hey Tiger, what the fuck is this?" while pointing to the lodged ball. Embarrassed and on the spot in front of the whole group, , I mouthed the only answer that might exonerate me: "You shoulda seen where it WAS!"
These sixty-five year old guys fell out of the carts laughing (one player laughed so hard he farted, which only doubled our laughter and tripled our memory of it)
Now that I'm back to summer caddying, I recycle that line frequently--especially when I haven't moved the ball---and it never fails to bring a smile to my players.
The absolute best line ever was given to me by my asst caddiemaster who was playing with me and standing up by the green, while I had an blind lob approach up a greenside hill. I couldn't even see the flag but I knew I kinda did it ok and I called up to Kevin, "How is it?" He shouted down, "It's like anal sex; it's tight and you're going to love it!"
I relish the opportunity to repeat that for my players.
cheers
vk
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My recent trip to Pebble. Caddy hands me SW on 7. Says 78 yards to the pin, don't be short. I proceed to skull the living hell out of the ball. It never gets about 3 feet off the ground and is going about 200 miles an hour as it flies the green.
Gene, the best caddy I every had anywhere, deadpans: "Jesus, we're not at war with the Japs again are we?" We go to the DZ, and he says "Come on, you can pretend to be Tom Kite. Just remember the green isn't stimping at at 15 like it was then, OK? Try to keep this pitch on dry ground, any dry ground will do!"
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My recent trip to Pebble. Caddy hands me SW on 7. Says 78 yards to the pin, don't be short. I proceed to skull the living hell out of the ball. It never gets about 3 feet off the ground and is going about 200 miles an hour as it flies the green.
Gene, the best caddy I every had anywhere, deadpans: "Jesus, we're not at war with the Japs again are we?" We go to the DZ, and he says "Come on, you can pretend to be Tom Kite. Just remember the green isn't stimping at at 15 like it was then, OK? Try to keep this pitch on dry ground, any dry ground will do!"
Gene McClure?
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Gentlemen,
The hoary old chestnut of how wonderful caddies are pops up again! For a wee bit o' balance I proffer the following. My perverse take on caddies and caddying has been supported, in the misty time of bygone years, by the writings of some wag or other that Melvyn Morrow dredged up and Adam Clayman promulgated in another thread.
"…. men of an economical turn are beginning to dispense with the services of "caddies" - those critics in rags who carry the clubs of players, and sneer at their employers behind their backs. It would indeed be well if "caddies" could be got rid of altogether. They are in every respect a blot on the game of golf. They generally develop into loafers, and not infrequently into blackguards."
See VK my daft opinions did not spring up unheralded they have been floating around since time immemorial! Hope Kris doesn't see this! Chuckling here!
Cheers Colin
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Playing Pac Dunes few weeks ago. Can't remember if it was Juggy or Adam Araneo looks at me after a rough stretch of triple, birdie, par, triple,
"Man you are playing Ray Ray golf"
"Ray Ray Golf??"
"Either Ray Floyd or Ray Charles, figure it out already"
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I like asking a caddy about his/her experiences with celebrities/athletes. Good tippers, bad tippers, unexpected meanies, ect. I won't post the negatives but I've heard rock star tippers include Peyton Manning, Joe Buck, Andy Garcia.
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Couple more came to mind:
1. At my old club I was playing with an important business contact who I'd invited out for the day. Even though the club didn't get that much play, it was a fairly busy Saturday morning in July. We headed out early just after the guys in the Saturday morning game who typically got the best honor caddies. So the caddymaster sends out this pale-looking high school kid who was next in line to double for us. After giving us our drivers on the first tee he heads out to forecaddy up the left side as there's OB and long grass on the dogleg there. We both hit decent drives in play. As we're walking up to our approach shots the caddie is conspicuously absent. We look towards the tall grass where he was last seen only to witness the breakfast sight of champions- the kid vomiting a rainbow of what must of have been everything he'd eaten in the past 24 hours. He'd apparently just experienced his first serious bout with alcohol which had just ended a few hours prior. We sent him home with a recipe for bitters and soda as a tip.
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Working as a caddy at a Tillinghast golf course as a boy -- 13-18 years of age -- had an enormously positive impact on my subsequent life. The work allowed me to pay my tuition at a local prep school, started me on an academic career, introduced me to the game through the experiences of watching and marveling at the talents of Julius Boros and other stars of the 50s, such as Jay hebert and Ted Kroll and GeorgeBayer. And my caddying experiences inspired me to turn my compositional and research skills towards golf writing. One of the most memorable days in my golfing life, my round at the Cypress Point Club, was enhanced by the marvelous work and stories of my 72 year old caddie, Sparky Enea.
Caddying was also at the root of some of my worst nightmares, literally, which I can't share here but have placed as the subjects of two of my stories on the Kindle Direct Publishing platform, one still awaiting publication. It was decades before my "bad dream," as I used to call it, returned to its little corner of hell and stopped disturbing my sleep.
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Colin, Thanks for bringing up those words written in 1880.
Clearly, the subject is fascinating on many levels. From the journalistic, to the humanistic.
Why did that author interject his personal vitriol, on the caddies, into what was for all appearances a fluff piece speculating on the future of Golf?
We can all understand that authors prejudice, as these modern day stories confirm. But, what he's really doing is spreading a form of hate speech against a whole group of individuals, based on the actions of a few. And that's just not right. Caddies are individuals. They act according to their own ethos, adapted to the environment and local culture. What the author ends up doing, is giving us all insights to his environment, his culture, his prejudice.
I don't know about you, but, I find, how people treat other people, (on and off the gc) is the cornerstone of both what's wrong, and what's right, with our species. What I find lacking in his pathos, is the freedom this sport should embody.
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A regular girl caddie who could not follow a ball (nicknamed Helen Keller) had difficulty for the third time in a round one day. "What the heck, Bridget," I lamented as we walked back to the rough in search of the nugget. Just then I heard a little roar from across the course. "Did you hear that? Sounded like a hole in one on 12!" She hadn't heard anything. I paid her and went into the locker room. "Do we have an eye doctor in the club? Send him to the Caddyshack for my blind caddie." Laughing, Pat says, ""well your first drink is on Mr. Boyd." "Hole in one on 12," I gently inquired. "Yep." "Send the ear doctor, too,"