Vicarious

Is there a worse handicap range in golf than 7 to 3? You know too much. Your golf game in that handicap range has just enough consistency, just enough skill to be dangerous and yet not enough to ever truly feel comfortable. The grind in that handicap range is brutal too. All the work you put in over years and years to continuously progress is in the rear view and the work you continue to put in to get better becomes a much harder slog with incremental milestones rather than bigger and more constant ones. The game at that level can become a sort of meat grinder. It can erode confidence and become a barren wasteland lacking those simple rewards many golfers experience early on. Instead of “What a good round, a lot of bogeys but nothing worse than that!” the mindset can easily become “If I don’t start making birdies I’ll always be on edge about a bad shot”. I say all this because unfortunately that’s where I’m at. I’ve been as low as a 1.5 but hover between a 2 and a 4 most of the time. I’ve always believed I could get to scratch or better but I’m older and more out of shape than I have been in forever plus I have a kid (which is the best) and that means less time grinding and more time just trying to enjoy golf. With all that said I’ve always found it hard to turn off the competitive fire. 

A few years ago one of the OG TC members, a great friend, and probably the best player I know, Steve Scott, asked me to caddie for him in the Patterson Cup at Llanerch. For those not from the Philly area the Patterson Cup is a big deal, it’s one of the Golf Association of Philadelphia’s biggest amateur championships. I was honored to be on the bag to support my friend but part of the role felt kind of foreign. During Steve’s warm-up a question kept bubbling up in my mind…

*Why aren’t you playing in this kind of stuff?*

Anyway, Philly can become truly swampy in August and on a sweltering day with a mix of sun, clouds and rain I put the bag on my shoulders and did my best to stay out of the way. For the most part I was just a sounding board for Steve. He would tell me what he was thinking and I would pretty much just confirm things for him and try to leave him with a sense of confidence. How was I supposed to call off the best player I know? There’s just no chance I would ever say “Na man you’re wrong. You should be hitting this type of shot” to someone who has hit more clutch shots under pressure than anyone else I’ve been on the course with. The question I was asking myself pre-round was still bouncing around in my brain during the first few holes. I hadn’t seen Steve or his playing partners hit a shot or do something I was incapable of doing (besides the one dude flying it like 310). That was until we came to our 3rd hole of the day, Llanerch’s 12th. 

The 12th is a mid-range par 3 called “Finsterwald” in honor of Dow Finsterwald who won the 1958 PGA Championship at Llanerch. The hole features a steeply pitched, multitiered green with shaved runoffs left and right. The pin that day was on the back tier tucked on the right side. With the pitch of the green the miss was either short, leaving a long but touchy pitch or right leaving the player short sided but able to play up the hill…miss on the left or long and be prepared to chip/pitch again. I remember the hole was playing around 175 yards but somewhat into a summer breeze. In my mind I thought Steve would reach over for the 6 iron where he could hit his stock cut shot, a good one of those could get to the back section if the wind didn’t take too much off it and a slight miss would leave him in the middle with a solid chance to 2 putt. Or maybe he’d ask for the 7 where he could swing hard with little fear of somehow getting the ball past the flag and into a real spot of bother. That club would have been a conservative call but one that still made sense, it wasn’t really a birdie hole with the flag’s location. Suddenly Steve looked over…was he calling on me?

 “Hey, how do you feel about like a lower kind of flighted 5 here?”

How do I feel about a flighted 5 iron? How do I, a very mediocre 3ish handicap, feel about a flighted 5 iron? That’s like asking “Hey Jake, how do you feel about having your fingernails pulled out with pliers?” or “Jake are you free this weekend to explore unmapped sections of a cave?”. In other words it’s decidedly not for me. I fear the 5 iron in general. To be honest I don’t remember what I ended up saying in the moment but flighted 5 was Steve’s choice. The shot came out of that lower window all golfers know and love with a slight cut, it landed in the middle tier and between the wind and the slope had just the right amount of speed to hold the back tier. It was a seriously impressive shot leaving a great look at birdie.

*Is that why you don’t play in stuff like this?*

As the round progressed I was peeking at the leaderboard from time to time and with about 4 holes left things were becoming crystal clear, my horse was on the cutline. Steve had a solid round going but there were pitfalls at points and not a ton of birdies to be had. Conditions were nebulous all day long with a mix of rain and wind coupled with spots of sun, and a sticky summer stillness. On Steve’s 16th hole he found a way to save bogey, playing a ball from inside a penalty area. It was a crazy save but an untimely mistake and one I thought might spell the end. On 17 he made an unreal par on a long par 3, I glanced at the board one more time and saw him one shot out. All day long I really tried to stay out of the way but there was this vicarious moment welling up inside. If I were Steve I would want to know where I stood….

*He’s got to want to know. Right?*

I hadn’t really made a suggestion all day or put my thoughts out in the open before Steve vocalized his own but this felt different. 

“Hey, do you want to know where you stand?”

Steve sort of half-cracked a smile, “Do I want to know?”

“Yea I think you do. I was trying not to leaderboard watch but I’m pretty sure you need to make birdie here to get through.” I got my answer to the day’s overarching question right then and there. 

Our last hole was the par 5 9th at Llanerch. Shortish by par 5 standards the hole runs uphill with OB bordering the entire right side to a fairly large and inviting green. Steve hit a solid but safe drive up the left that got into the rough but left a decent angle. From the tee we thought it might have to be 4 the hard way but when we got to the ball the lie was as good as any we had all day. On the other hand the yardage was a tweener and with the ball somewhat teed up we needed to spend a few minutes figuring out the math.  It was a big moment and that vicarious thing came up again…the words just sort of came out. 

“If I had to guess you’re going to be juiced up.”

Steve sort of laughed and said something like, “Yea I was thinking the same thing. Hybrid right? That’s what I want to hit.”

There was such confirmation in that statement. I knew the next swing was going to be a solid one. I was right and with a fully committed swing Steve hit a nearly perfect little cut into his last green of the day but the ball took a hard kick to the back of the green, leaving a two putt that was trickier than expected. His lag left him a touchy but doable 5ish footer which he buried seemingly without a care. Cut made. 

*That's why you don’t play in this kind of stuff.*

I watched Steve navigate the round, have it seemingly slip away with a tough bogey, survive a backbreaker of a late round par 3, and summon laser focus to convert when he needed it most. The play was truly impressive but the resolve to stay in it, to keep the round together is what I'll remember most. The post round beers were so crisp (I want to say this again…so so crisp). Even though my role was only that of a bystander I’d put the whole experience near the top of things I’ve had the opportunity to be a part of in the world of golf. 

It’s also an experience I go back to often when thinking about my own game and the drive to play in competitive environments.  It’s a motivating moment that wells up in me when I think about what I need to do to progress, to get better, to be more consistent, to compete and ultimately to make things happen on the edge of discomfort. 

This week, I caddied for Steve again. This time in the Philadelphia Mid-Am at Jeffersonville. Truthfully, I've never seen a golf course for an event of this level set up more difficult. Pins tucked in brutal spots combined with sloping, glassy Donald Ross greens and fairways so firm that a head high first bounce wasn't uncommon. Add to those factors winds from an approaching storm front and you’ve got an extreme test. Steve didn’t really have it this time around and I’m not sure I really helped all that much but I still got the same vicarious feeling watching him try to duct-tape a round together that I got when he was puring it around Llanerch a few summers ago. Yet again I left with  internal dialogue though it's changed over the years.

*You should play in this kind of stuff*

(Some quick, stealth snaps from JVille)