[Bob_Huntley]

Just recently, a very successful young Touring Pro had asked  a grizzled veteran of the instructional world, to follow him around for eighteen holes during a tournament held here in Pebble Beach.

After the round they sat down for an hour and chatted about the day.

The veteran opined that the young man was debating with his caddie on anything and everything. His advice:

1. Your caddie has one decision to make.... that is whether    he carries the bag on his left shoulder.... or right shoulder.

2. Read your own greens and have only one practice putting stroke.

3. Cut out the half dozen practice swings, one practice swing  should suffice.

His success since then has been quite remarkable.

[blasbe1]

I caddied for 10 years as a kid so this may take some time for me to come up with my best story, but here's a few:

1) I often caddied with a good friend for a regular big money game and we always had side action, so his team is one down going into 17, a par three, but they have the tee.  Both his players miss the green, my first player gets up and in the middle of his back swing by buddy pours a cup of cold water down my back (we're both tee side).  I didn't even flinch.  Now that's a good caddie

2) So we're all in the caddie yard and there's some talk about an old timer caddie named "Leo."  He'd been a real quirky guy with at least two crooked eyes who was always carrying some kind of smoked meat around in his back pocket and someone cries, "hey, isin't Leo dead!"  Leo, wairing a Donald Duck hat and sitting two seats away from the questioner doesn't even blink and the entire yard hits the ground laughing.

3) White Rock, a middle-aged drug addicted caddie who was nicknamed after his habbit of choice, used to routinely get benched in the caddie yard for showing up late, drunk, drugged, not showing up, etc., would do a dance of protest that he self proclaimed "The White Rock Shuffle" and while shuffling around the caddie yard he would sing, with wiggling brown stubs for bottom teeth, the following tribute to the head pro at the time who would bench him:

"I fought Malloy . . . and Malloy won,
I fought Malloy . . . and Malloy won,
Rackin' traps in the hot sun . . .
I fought Malloy and Malloy won . . .
I fought Malloy and Malloy won . . ."

[Sean_A]

Jason

Yet another Clash fan.  This site is loaded with decent blokes.

Ciao

Sean

[Sean_A]

Jason

Aren't you a wee bit on the baby side to be groovin' on the greatest rock band of my generation?

Ciao

Sean

[blasbe1]

Jason

Aren't you a wee bit on the baby side to be groovin' on the greatest rock band of my generation?

Ciao

Sean

Sean:

I've always been behind my time , although I think I was in junior high or high school when "Cut the Crap" came out . . . a prime example of not knowing when to quit while you're ahead.  

They were one of the greatest rock bands of all time, let alone a generation or two.  Short of the Beatles, I'd be hard pressed to name a more innovative socially aware rock band that affected their genre more.  

R.I.P. JS

[TEPaul]

I haven't read this whole thread but without doing that, still today the best caddie story I know was from my Dad and his regular caddie, Sherman, down in Daytona Beach back in the 1950s.

Sherman was a big, quiet, black guy who really was good. In and around Daytona Beach Dad was the best until young amateur Dave Regan (later to turn pro and make the Ryder Cup) finally came along and he was unbeatable before he turned pro.

But Dad used Sherman every time he played---Sherman went everywhere around Daytona with Dad. The procedure with Sherman was something else because Sherman was such a drunk that after the round Sherman would just walk off whatever course around Daytona they were at and any day Dad was playing he'd go over to the Daytona Beach City jail and pick Sherman up (the police used to sweep up Sherman at some point in the night wherever he found to pass out and put him in a cot in the City Jail with the door open!! Basically Sherman lived in the City Jail, I guess).

So one time Dad decided to take Sherman on the road bigtime---to take him up to the State Amateur in Tallahassee for perhaps almost a week. So Dad picked up another player to drive him up there and they laid all their golf slacks on the foot-well in the back seat of the car---probably about a dozen pair altogether because they could've been at the state am all week.

Then they headed down to the City Jail to pick up Sherman but Sherman had gotten so drunk the night before neither Dad nor the police could really wake him up, so they just picked him up and carried him out to Dad's car and laid him on the back seat.

About two hours out of Daytona Sherman finally came to and asked if he could bum a smoke so Dad lit one and gave it to him. About ten minutes later Dad and his friend smelled something burning and they pulled the car over and sure enough Sherman had past out again with the lit cigarette in his hand that'd burned a hole through each leg of all dozen of the slacks on the footwell in the back seat.

Dad did pretty well in that State Am getting to the semis and each day he had to play in slacks that he said looked like they had big bullet holes clear through each side of both legs.

But somehow Dad and Sherman survived that one too and they continued on as a really good player/caddie team.

[blasbe1]

Sean,
The Clash remix was a little after the original,
http://history.sandiego.edu/gen/snd/ifoughtthelaw.html  (Bobby Fuller Four, 1965)

Brian:

Well noted, but I think Sean was referring to my tag "I'm all lost in the supermarket . . ."  The song ("Lost in the Supermarket") one of my Clash favorites, was as I recall written by Joe Strummer for Mick Jones as a reflective vision of what it was like for Mick to grow up in a suburban flat (as the song goes at one point "we had a hedge back home in the suburbs, over which I never could see . . . I heard the people who lived on the ceiling kick and fight most scarely . . . hearing that noise was my first ever feeling . . . that's how it's been all around me . . . I'm all lost in the supermarket, I can no longer shop happily . . .")  Lyrics from memory so  please no litigation for misquotes.  

Cheers,

Jason

[blasbe1]

Another "Leo" story:  Leo's on the second hole and one of the players in the group ask's him, "Leo, do you read the greens?"  To which Leo replies, "greens, I don't even read English!"  (Leo read only Italian.)

[blasbe1]

OTB Bob is on the third hole (he's called OTB b/c he's always got a racing form and the news paper rolled up in his back pocket) and a player in the fairway asks OTB, "hey Bob, how far do I have to get home."  To which OTB says, "we'll that depends on where you live."

[blasbe1]

In the group in front of me a member's son is looping and goes down to forecaddie on a tight par 4 with out of bounds all down the left side where there's also access through a fence to a neighborhood road.  

Growing tired of looping and feeling the pains of his hangover magnified by the knowledge that all his buddies blew off looping and were all at the beach surfing, said member's son drops his bags beehind a tree while forecaddying and before his group reaches the tee he bolts through the fence and down the road and doesn't return till the next day when he says he was chased by a dog straight off the course and through the neighborhood.  Reliable witnesses placed him hanging ten before his loop hit the turn.  

[Patrick_Mucci]

Bob Huntley,

I'm with you.

The rules of engagement are:

You take the King's shilling, you do the King's bidding.

It's an employer-employee relationship.
And being a wise guy is not part of the job description.

[Patrick Hitt]

I am glad I never looped for folks I didn't know....Our usual game between caddies was 25 of 50 cent scotch with unlimited presses. Our guys treated us like peers and didn't mind being told by the opposing caddie that a put wasn't good. Nothing like a 96 point scotch swing with the umby on 18. We were solid caddies and we wouldn't have done it for so long if someone treated us like a field hand. Even if it hurts I like the Beverly slogan - Treat your caddy like your son or daughter.

[JohnV]

It's an employer-employee relationship.

Thats for sure.  We had a caddie we had hired for one of team events last year fall off the back of a cart when they were coming in after the match.  Our Workmen's Comp is paying for his hospitalization.

[Bob_Huntley]

I like the Beverly slogan - Treat your caddy like your son or daughter.

Patrick,

Have you ever been offered a caddie at say, Gullane?

I am not talking here of a clean cut youngster, but an old timer with a coat to his ankles, unwashed and smoking a cigarette down to the last millimeter and reeking of stale booze? I would have a hard time treating him as a son or daughter, or even as my father.

I offered the chap an extra ten quid on top of the usual rate and tip if he refrained from smoking during the round. He turned me down.

I think I am a resonably amiable person but I sure don't need to have a love fest with someone carrying my bag, as for a comedian, the only I have really enjoyed was Rocky Carbone at Pine Valley.

[Scott_Burroughs]

If 3 sheets is $300, then yeah.  These are money guys and they are pretty fast and loose with the buck, which I guess explains why I always win scotch games!!  I thought $150 a bag plus tip was outrageous, and still do, but that's what they said they get, and what was I going to do?  Screw up everybody else's plans because I smelled a rat?  I just figured that one or two extra birdies would more than cover it (which it did!!).

The set rate for caddies at Pebble is $65 per bag + tip (in 1998, it was $45+), right on their web site.  If your round was any time recently, the bozo you had shouldn't have received anything over $80 per.


A side note about the Pebble bags they put your clubs in.  Their bags have only one strap (or they used to) and my guy there toted both bags on one shoulder vs. the normal one bag per shoulder.

[Brian Phillips]

I think I am a resonably amiable person but I sure don't need to have a love fest with someone carrying my bag, as for a comedian, the only I have really enjoyed was Rocky Carbone at Pine Valley.


Bob,

Believe it or not but Rocky was my first ever caddie and it has just been downhill ever since...no one has ever come close.  The guy changed my way of thinking on a golf course...enjoy it...

Brian

[Scott_Burroughs]

I know I can't truly relate to the situation you were in, but I would have reported them to the pro after the round and still only given him $80, out of sight of your friends, after you have your clubs back.  F*$k them.

[HamiltonBHearst]

What kind of bag do you carry that needs to be changed?  Is it that heavy?  

[Scott_Burroughs]

What kind of bag do you carry that needs to be changed?  Is it that heavy?  

It wouldn't surprise me if they change them out no matter what, even if you have a 3.5 or a Sunday bag.

I already know that the next (?) time I play Pebble, I'm carrying my own.

[Patrick_Mucci]

Shivas,

I've played Pebble numerous times and noone ever attempted to change my bag.  Although it did happen to me at CPC many years ago, before light carry bags.

My bag is a typical light bag with a stand.

I've always felt that members should carry their own bag for 18 holes before asking a caddy to do it.

It culls the herd.

[Bob_Huntley]

Brian Phillips,

I have been around the horn a couple of times and had caddies galore, but I must say that Rocky Carbone was the creme de la creme. There was something irreverent about him that did not seem full of artifice and yet was as astringent as a barbers salve. His lines were as astute as Johnny Carson.... and original.

The only other guy that came close was my caddie at the Chapman Club in Salisbury, Rhodesia. A Shona with a tongue like a whiplash he reminded me once, when I suggested that his read was wrong on the green, that as his ancestor was the Paramount Chief of all the Shonas,  I was lucky to have him as my cadddie, because with his magic I could win anything I entered if I the nerve to do as he suggested. I must say that I did win a couple of events, but I am not sure that his shoeless foot did not help a couple of balls escape some awful lies.

[JESII]

Bob Huntley,

You'll appreciate this one, knowing Rocky's physique.

Walking off the first tee to start an early spring round, one of Rocky's long time players asks him how everything is; family, health, work, etc...   rocky replies well to all topics until the topic of working at PV comes up and he says "pro, its not good, I actually had to file suit against the club recently". the member, aghast, asks what about?  "Well, it's happened each of the last X number of years I've been working here, every spring I come back and the god damn ground is a little bit closer to my ass."
Classic Rocky.  

[blasbe1]

Here's the deal.  These guys pitch themselves as some sort of tour-level caddies, a real experience above and beyond anything the players have ever had.  They set the expectations.  They HAVE TO in order to justify the obscene fees they get at Pebble (BTW, the CPC fees were fine with me, particularly after the ridiculousness of the Pebble fees), or else nobody in their right mind would take them.  

Dave:

Next time call ahead and ask for Gene McLure, he was recommened by a good friend, was excellent, agreeable, helped me greatly with a struggling game and in June 2002 we paid him $75-80 a bag, we did 36 a day mostly.  I've never heard of someone asking for $150 per bag plus tip?  That's insane.

He was also very good at getting my wife Laura around Pebble and he stuck with us for the 4 days we were there.  I think I have his card with the memorabilia from our honeymoon.

[Paul Richards]

The best caddy story?

I actually LIVED the movie "Caddyshack" at the time it was released to theatres!  

The caddymaster was spot-on, and I can name almost every character in that movie as an actual member I caddied for.  

To boot, this was the greatest movie of all time!!!!!!


 

[Bob_Huntley]

This was years ago at Nchanga, Northern Rhodesia. Once a year we played a tournament where we not only hit alternate shots, but after hitting your shot, you carried the bag to the ball for your partner to hit the next one. As we all had regulars loopers it was done with great fun and a few bets.

However, there was among us one particular irrascible Afrikaaner who was not what you might call liberal minded in matters of race relations. We cajoled him into playing  by the thought that his caddie was the best player in the shack. Gondwe, the caddies name, had taken a ration of grief all year but wouldn't drop his player as the pay wasn't bad and it sure beat working underground. But this was pay-back time.

The Member hit off first, Gondwe hits an indifferent shot, Member gets it on the green, Gondwe knocks it past three feet, Member misses. It goes on like this for another few holes, by which time the caddie has made every mistake imaginable. The fifth hole crosses the Nchanga stream twice. Member tees off, Gondwe hits ball into stream, Member crosses stream to fairway, Gondwe knocks it into the stream.
Member, in high dudgeon instructs Gondwe to find the ball, Gondwe fails to do so. Member says "You're playing like s**t you may as well throw the f***ing clubs in the river." He did so and the last we saw him was running at full speed for the exit.

Of course, all the equipment for the matches belonged to the Members.
 

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