Bethpage State Park, Black Course

A few weeks ago I played a round of golf on one of my bucket list courses: the Black Course at Bethpage State Park on Long Island, NY. It’s hosted two US Open championships (2002, 2009) and a Barclay’s (2012). The course is listed as one of the toughest in the country. And, Golf Digest ranks it number 42 on its list of top-100 courses in 2013. Pilgrim golfers from all over travel to Long Island to play one of the few affordable tracks on that list. That I got to play it is a gift that will be difficult to repay.

I’ve been playing golf regularly for around 20 years. During that time, I’ve played over 100 golf courses with friends and strangers alike. I’ve been paired with people that, at the end of the round, I wish I’d gotten their number so we could play again some time; I’ve been paired with people that I couldn’t get off the golf course soon enough; and I’ve been paired with people that made the round all the more memorable.

Golf, unlike other sports, forces you to be sociable. You can go about seven holes without saying a word to your playing partner but, eventually, someone’s got to talk. You’re out there for four hours (at least!) with no one but you and a couple strangers.

My round at the Black Course was made possible because of a connection a golfing buddy of mine has with a former employee at Bethpage. Without that connection, we would have been on Long Island just attending a wedding (a perfectly fine reason to go to Long Island and I certainly would have gone had not the promise of playing one of the finest golf courses in the land been made). However, we got an 8:30 tee time on the Saturday of the wedding and were thrilled about it.

We arrived well in advance of our tee time and spent some time buying tschotskes in the proshop. My buddy got a headcover embroidered with the famous sign posted behind the first tee box at the Black. I got several scorecards, pencils, ball-markers, yardage books, and some other things I’m sure — for my best friend, my dad, another golfing buddy, and just in case, some extras.

When we went to the starter he pointed us to our playing partners — a father and son from just down the street. They quickly discovered, without even asking, that my buddy and I were from out of town and about to embark on this journey for the first time. We weren’t coy about it. I think we took pictures off the first tee for 5 minutes before we even thought about teeing it up.

For those of you who have only seen the Black on TV — as I had only seen it — when Johnny Miller says that the fairways are tight, he ain’t kiddin’. The first fairway looked about as wide as my thumbnail from the tee. And it started a mere 200 yards away from the tee. The only choice was a driver. I missed the fairway but, through some geometry, was able to get a par after a layup on the second shot.

I’m not going to walk you through my round. That’s boring and far too visual for my descriptive abilities. However, I’ll provide you with my main takeaway.

The two gentlemen that we played with could not have been better playing partners. They knew we were out-of-towners and knew that this was a special round of golf for us. It well could be our last time on the Black and they made every effort to make it enjoyable. They gave us some advice, but didn’t give the course away. It was clear we were there to experience Bethpage, not to be hand-held through it. On blind shots, they offered some guidance; on other holes, they let us look at our yardage books and figure it out for ourselves.

Mostly, however, for me, at least, they let us enjoy it together. My buddy and I had been talking about getting up to Long Island for years. “We should go up there and stay at our friends parents place.” “When do you think you can take a weekend? We’ll spend it in the car in the parking lot.” “You think we’ll get up there this year?”

Now, after waiting, we were on the golf course of our dreams! During our round, we joked about how difficult it was. We stood there staring at some stunning golf scenery. We counted off our yardages and talked about the shot we wanted to hit. After making difficult putts, we looked at each other as if to say, “Holy crap, that was a tough par.” It was perfect. Our partners made it so.

In golf, the best playing partners are the ones that enhance the experience. It’s a social game. Like with any other social event, the person you experience it with matters. We’ve probably all been at parties, at work functions or meetings, at a restaurant, and had to “deal with” rude, obnoxious, overly self-centered, loud, angry, negative, and otherwise unbearable patrons, co-workers, or guests. We remember them as such and we don’t ever forget them. That’s a real bummer.

On the other hand, when we get to experience golf and life and work with generous, positive, good-natured, and courteous people, it makes even poor rounds, dinners, projects seem much better.

I hope that I’m the second — offering advice when necessary, providing positive feedback, having a beginner’s mindset, and smiling.

Oh, here are some pictures from the course.

2013-08-10 08.15.04 2013-08-10 08.13.56 2013-08-10 10.14.56 2013-08-10 10.26.43 2013-08-10 10.50.30 2013-08-10 11.02.59 2013-08-10 11.16.44 2013-08-10 11.37.50 2013-08-10 12.33.55 2013-08-10 12.43.26 2013-08-10 12.54.23 2013-08-10 13.39.01 2013-08-10 13.45.55 2013-08-10 15.01.32 2013-08-10 15.02.06

Advertisements

Sitting…Waiting…Writing…

This is a post dedicated to a friend and coworker who’s thinking about writing a blog.

 

I’ve always thought of golf as a series of significant steps in a direction without a destination. I’ll give you a semi-practical example: the first time you break 100, you set a goal to shoot 90, then to break 90, then to shoot 80, then break 80, and so on. You just keep going. It’s a grind, but it’s very Zen-like.

I’ve thought a lot about golf — now, every once in a while, I put my thoughts down on blog — and, since I’m waiting for my new clubs to get here, I think I’ll take a few minutes to remember the clubs I’ve carried over the years.

 

Dunlop’s

I got my first set of real clubs in 8th grade. They were good. Very solid. I broke 90 with those clubs at Cleveland Country Club (what used to be Kirbywood Golf Club, now this). I used them until my junior year. When I got my next set, my dad took the Dunlops.

 

Titleist DCI Oversize + Gold

When I first hit the Titleists, the ball flew off the club-face. It was like nothing I’d ever hit before. The guy at Golfsmith recommended them because, at the time, they were some of the most forgiving yet reasonably priced golf clubs on the market. Plus, they were Titleists — very popular among the pros.

I broke 80 with those clubs my junior year. I shot 79. I worked my tail off for that 79, by the way; harder than I ever had before. I remember hitting a pretty decent drive down the right at Cleveland Country Club (correct, the one from before) and hit a really weak lay-up with a seven-iron. Then a nine-iron into the green for a pretty basic two putt.

I used those irons into college, much to my chagrin. Toward the end, I couldn’t make a connection with the long irons. When I finally snapped the 7-iron at the grip after getting really upset with its apparent lack of consistency, it was time to move in a different direction.

 

Ping ISI-S

My teammate and friend in college let me borrow his set of Pings one day while I was getting frustrated on the range with my Titleists. I was fighting a slice from the pits of hell. Every shot brought me closer and closer to self-immolation. The Pings felt a little shallower so I compensated by swinging a bit more from the inside — dropped my right elbow to pull the club down. Thinking about it now, I could have done all of that with my Titleists and probably would have had the same results. But, man, I was desperate. The first several swings felt great, the ball was in the air and not screaming to the right after slowly dragging through the air for 90 yards.

I played a round and hit a lot of greens that I was aiming at — I was immediately hooked. Eventually the flight straightened out and I was able to get some distance back that was severely lacking.

Well, my friend moved back to Sweden and he took his irons with him. It was a sad time, not only because I haven’t seen my friend for years but because those irons saved my game.

 

Hogan blades

Immediately following my Pings, I switched to the next logical step in my progression to a more forgiving iron — Hogans.

They felt great for a while, I was finally gaining weight so I was able to put a little extra oomph behind the ball, and, frankly, what else was I going to do?

 

1994 Callaway Big Berthas

Eventually, reality sets in, and the clubs that got me through that second year of college golf, along with countless rounds between Texas and DC, weren’t cutting the mustard anymore. I needed something cheap and easy to hit. I discovered a website that gave me both.

I always coveted the Berthas. Colin Montgomerie, still one of my favorite players, hit ‘em. Annika Sorenstam hit ‘em. And Jim Colbert hit ‘em. Why wouldn’t you want them?

I’ve been playing with those since 2007. They’ve been good to me. But, times are changing. I’m getting older. And the swing isn’t what it used to be.

 

Cobra Baffler Irons

[This space intentionally left blank]

 

My first club

My first golf club was a “Medalist” 7-iron that my grandfather cut down to a reasonable length for me when I was a kid. I don’t know how old I was. I don’t know how well I hit the ball. But, I remember spending time with my dad out at Packsaddle Golf Course (now Lighthouse Country Club) hitting the ball. It was the best gift I’ve ever been given.

What did I learn last weekend?

That I’m a bad listener.

I played 9 holes with some friends this weekend. We reserved two tee-times for eight folks. Three of them have never played golf before. Two of them, my old roommates, had played before but didn’t get out hardly at all.

Sounds like a disaster, right? But not in the way you think.

I was astonished at how well my former roommates played. Astonished, mostly, because I had no idea that they played golf! One of the women seriously ripped at the ball — taking divots off the fairway — beating down 200 yard drives. The other had a short game that many 15 handicappers would die for. We played a scramble and we used a good number of their shots.

I lived with them for two years and didn’t know that they play golf…and do it well. Why didn’t I ever ask?

To tell you the truth, I was so much blown away by their ability, I could hardly concentrate on the fact that my other friend, the beginner, was asking me for help.

Just hit the ball,” I would say, like a complete asshole.

When was golf ever that simple? As just hitting the ball?

She responded with, “It seems more complicated than that.”

She’s right. But, why didn’t I help her?

The next day, I was standing on the 14th tee box on East Potomac’s Blue Course looking down at my grip — I’ve added that to my pre-shot routine — and realized, “You jerk. Start with the grip!”

Had I taken a moment to show my friend how to grip the club, it would have made a huge difference for her. It would have led to taking a stance properly, keeping her head down. THEN HIT THE BALL.

And I would have thanked my old roommates for showing my friend how to hit the ball.

Next time, if I can.

 

It’s Your Turn

Last Saturday I had the opportunity to get a round in at the PB Dye Golf Club in Ijamsville, MD. It’s a gem of a course – plush fairways, smooth rolling greens, variety of tee boxes, ample PB Dye marketing, and a great clubhouse to grab a dog at the turn and a beer after the round. That’s the focus of this post: the turn.

The turn is the transition from the front nine to the back nine; hole 9 to 10. It’s one of the most overlooked parts of a round. It’s the halfway point – a milestone or benchmark, if you will – that is given a lot of words but not much time for consideration. “Made the turn at 2-over. Finished with an eighty-eight.” “The Masters doesn’t really start until the turn on Sunday.” “Think we got time to stop by the car at the turn?”

I view the turn in a slightly different light. It’s an opportunity to relax a bit between nines, to grab a dog, maybe a beer, apply some sunscreen, wash the hands, and get ready for the next nine. It’s also a time to meet new people, take a break with your group, and take an already social game to the next level…

A big complaint in golf, right now, is that it takes too long — play is slow. This is true. Every player walking off yardages down to the inch, taking five practice swings before every shot, reading putts from every angle, marking their ball when they have a six-incher, and going back-and-forth about who’s away, guarantees at least a 5 hour round. Once in a while, though, it’s worth setting aside a few minutes to enjoy the company of the group you’re with.

A few months ago, a friend of mine had the brilliant idea of starting a Facebook group of golfers – friends, co-workers, strangers – for the purpose of setting up tee-times over the spring and summer. We put together two foursomes to go out to Langston on a freezing Saturday morning. We were basically the only people on the course. On the front nine, each of us plotted our way around, barely speaking except to say, “It’s cold.”

At the turn, however, we spent a solid twenty minutes updating each other on our work, families, jokes, memories, and everything in between. Yeah, we could have just grabbed a dog and made our way out but, instead, we took some time to know each other better. Cold, though we were, we made our way back into the elements and enjoyed the rest of our round. I’m not suggesting that every group, every round, needs to take twenty minutes with their playing partners in the grill. I’m just suggesting that, if you’re going to be out there, get to know the folks you’re going to spend another two hours with. I promise the back-nine will be much more pleasant. You’ll probably play better, too.

Also, this…

I was chipping in my bed room on Friday night before my round at PB Dye. As I mentioned in a previous post, this is a great way to get the feel for chipping after a long winter season. I noticed that I was gripping the club like I would grip a putter — too much club in the palm of my left hand. I was losing accuracy and distance in a big way. I fixed my grip.

When I got out to PB Dye, I was hitting everything longer and straighter. What’s the problem with that? I wasn’t used to it. I shot a pretty decent 41 on the front. My friend and I took a 15 minute break in the clubhouse at the turn, talking with the bartender, and discussing how impressive the greens were even though they’d recently been aerated and sanded. In my mind, however, I was thinking, “club down and aim at the pin…club down and aim at the pin.”

On the back nine, I shot a one-over 37. Shockingly great play given my previous several rounds.

That would not have happened if I just went straight on to the 10th hole as soon as I was done with 9.

The point: take some time at the turn.