Nostalgia for the Endless Summer Days at Ridgewood Country Club

by | Jun 23, 2023 | Blog

Maybe it was the times that Chris Hamill bought a dozen Molitor golf balls for $50 and charged them to his dad’s account.  Or the time me, Peter Kiernan, Mike Lynch, and Ed Kieritz tried to dredge the drained pond on One center for the thousands of balls we saw plugged in the mud. Or was it the times we used to rifle two irons from 150 yards, yes two irons, at the employee dorm that was across the entrance road to the club?  Actually, it’s all those memories and so many more that made the days of my adolescence growing up at Ridgewood Country Club pure joy.  I had reasonably good intuition as a kid for a knucklehead and I knew without being told that I was beyond lucky to have an environment like RCC to spend every waking moment at, summer after summer.   

As we bask in the longest days of the year and I see the kids immersed in junior clinics, the twilight golf leagues in full swing and the “buddy” trips at their gluttonous peak I am reminded of the summer crushes, but more than anything I feel downright melancholy when I think about my true summer love of my youth, the golf course. 

No matter where you fell for the game, like a girl, you’ll never forget when you knew the game had a grip on you.  At your muni, on a summer vacation with your parents at a golf resort or being at your parent’s club.  I played every sport with a competency that instilled confidence in me that I could apply myself and flash some skill pretty quickly.  Snow skiing, tennis, basketball, baseball, soccer, swimming were all pursuits, but golf was the lone passion.  The combination of the time it afforded me with my dad was critical to the hook but it was as much the chasing of something that was elusive, singular and provocative that conjured similar feelings to the ones I had for Maggie Dailey, Sandy Casperson, Sandra Sullivan and Kim Elsas.  My Mt. Rushmore of teenage crushes but they were simply sharing time in my mind with the game that took a hold of me and has never let me go.   

I wish I had all the “chits” from my parent’s club bill that came rolling into the mail slot at 326 Grandview Circle every month.  I’d love to know how many hot dogs, ice cream sandwiches and bags of Wise barbecue chips I posted from 1979 to 1985.  It was a glorious run of consistency at the snack bar next to the pool and between 9 east, 1 center, and 9 west on the 27-hole construct of the AW Tillinghast design.  After I cut away the lingering interests in the other summer endeavors I was of an age when I could carry one, and eventually two, sturdy golf bags to make some good cash as a 16-year old.  In order to practice and play every day I was required to try to get a loop in the morning.  The caddy yard at Ridgewood in those days was a two-tier system.  The less experienced caddies, the kids, started up by the water tower away from the clubhouse and waited for the phone to ring like calling the bullpen.  Once you were called down to the “yard” outside the bag room you were on deck to get a loop.  The rite of passage that accompanied those days sitting with grizzled working men was worth the wait each day to carry a leather golf bag which likely included a ball retriever, three “gintys” and enough Pinnacles to last a summer.  Average weight of a bag coming out of the bag room at Ridgewood Country Club in 1981 was probably one hundred pounds.  Ok, I’m exaggerating it was closer to ninety-two pounds.  

Carrying two leather Burton bags in the summer was akin to dragging bags of wet sand across the desert.  Tom Boren was the best player at the club at that time and he was also the ONLY player with a small ping carry bag with stands.  Getting his bag was like winning the lottery to take Cheryl Ladd to the junior prom.  There was one bag I had nightmares over and I keep having those nightmares because no matter what I did, I kept being assigned the bag of Mr. Cardew.  He was a delightful man and the father of the two best athletes in town, but he also had a RAM staff bag.  Yes, the same one Tom Watson used when he chipped in on 17 on Sunday at Pebble Beach to win the U.S. Open.  Mr. Cardew had a knack for chipping in as well… for triple.  When I saw big red coming out of the bag room, I actually hid in the phone booth in the caddy yard.  Glen, the caddy master, still ID’d me in the booth and gave me the assignment.  Even carrying that coffin, which felt like it had a body in it, didn’t dampen my lust for the game.  Once I pocketed some cash each morning the day was then mine to do what I wanted to do most.  Pursue the game.   

I had the patience to practice and since we were not permitted on the course until after 4 pm each day I did what all my friends and the best juniors did at the club.  We hit balls, we chipped, we putted, and talked about the game.  We also wanted to dress the game as well.  My Dad was a clothes-horse and he traveled and played many of the top courses in the country, and as soon as I could swim comfortably in his hard collar Pickering shirts I was showcasing swag from Merion to Olympic Club.  I couldn’t hang with Paul Antenucci’s game, the best player in North Jersey, or Dirk Fennie who eventually played at Colorado, but I was solid.   

My glory shot was being the 16 seed in the club championship and facing the 1 seed in Ace Daniels.  He was in his early 40’s with multiple car dealerships, his name embossed on his Macgregor irons, a Mark VII convertible and a blow-dried quaff that was impeccable.  I had a Jones bag, had played Oliver in the junior high school musical and tipped out the scales at 116 pounds.  I was also two up with three to play and the club was buzzing that a character from a Horatio Alger novel was on the verge of walking in “Ace”.  I took the gas pipe and choked away the last three holes, but I have taken solace that I had the equivalent of Phil Brody from “Flamingo Kid” sweating me.  The high point was winning the 1981 Father Son tournament over Pete Campbell, and his father, Pete Campbell.  My Dad didn’t take kindly to the fact that Pete was my dad’s age and was a former club champion and his father was the senior club champion.  Dad thought their entrance was a violation of the spirit of the competition for Dad’s and actual children.  As he said to me upon finding out that the Campbells were in the field, “lets beat those sons of bitches”.  No greater pregame speech has ever been uttered and we got it done.  That trophy resides proudly in my office.  I have never grinded harder to contribute on a golf course than I did those two summer days.   

I don’t know if I had a better childhood than children of younger generations, but I know I wouldn’t trade mine for anyone’s.  We called girls on our house phones and they answered not knowing who was on the other end which was a horrifying undertaking.  I’m guilty of writing a phone call script but I learned quickly when Julie Cook didn’t respond with the line I anticipated that we were free-styling.  I didn’t waste a moment in a pinball arcade and was totally disinterested in Atari and InTelevision – the most primitive forms of video games.  I wanted to be on a golf course, talking to adults while carrying their Powerbilt irons and Palmer Peerless drivers.  I wanted to listen to the beaten up but not down and out caddies for life who closed down “Esposito’s” the night before and smelled like a bottle of Dry Sack, explaining to us youngsters why Linda Carter was hotter than Farrah Fawcett.  It was a compelling argument.  I wanted my TP Mills putter to become my biggest weapon and therefore I rolled hundreds of putts a day on the majestic practice putting green at RCC.  I wanted to spin the 90 compression Titleist balata balls like Jerry Pate and Ben Crenshaw and learn how to shape a driver around the corner on 3 Center.  I wanted to start each day with the dew on my shoes and finish each day with the fading sun on my neck.  I know that being lost can be unnerving and anxiety filled but I’ve never been more content than I was all those summer days lost in the pursuit of something I’ve loved ever since. 

Why the USGA Needs to End Their Own Identity Crisis

by | Jun 12, 2023 | Blog

“Nobody ever wins the National Open. Somebody else just loses it.”  The words of four-time U.S. Open champion Bobby Jones describing what it takes to win the national championship.  It’s an event with a particular identity that for decades was associated with very certain things.  But, like virtually every college football fan base, had developed an identity crisis.  Ninety percent of college fans think their school should be competing for national championships when reality suggests maybe 10% can or do actually win “Nattys”.  The U.S. Open was THE event when I was a kid.  The Masters was beautiful and emerging as a brand globally in the 70’s.  The PGA was always hot and simply seemed important, but you saw more of it than the other events week to week, and the Open Championship was on so early and for so little time that I couldn’t grasp how amazing it was until I started to gain some context.  I knew exactly what the U.S. Open was and it’s time for it to be that again, unequivocally, starting this week at Los Angeles Country Club.  

“You not only have to be good, but you have to have two horseshoes up your rear end. You’ve got to be lucky to win the U.S. Open.”  Words glibly spoken by Sam Snead who never won the U.S. Open and was gutted by it finishing second on four occasions.  Luck, resolve, patience, determination, guts, will, are all words associated with winning the U.S. Open.  We don’t invoke phrases that are more closely associated with endurance examinations than we do the biggest event conducted by the United States Golf Association.  I was 14 years old when my dad took me to the opening round of the 1980 U.S. Open at Baltusrol.  We followed Tom Weiskopf because my dad knew I wouldn’t see any shots if we followed Nicklaus. I saw a 63 shot that day, of course Nicklaus shot 63 that day as well because that’s what he did to Weiskopf.  On Tom’s best days Jack was usually just a little bit better or equally as good which meant more anguish for Weiskopf.  I loved everything I saw that day including P.J. Boatwright, the executive director of the USGA.  Yes, a man in a white oxford button down shirt with a regimental stripe tie and a bucket hat was cool to me.  I thought he was golf’s ombudsman and felt that way for his entire career.  The men in the blue blazers with the constipated looks on their faces were golf’s high court.  They were the judge and jury of what was a proper major championship set up and their championship was the standard by which all golfers of the elite level should be measured one time annually. 

‘The U.S. Open has never been exciting to watch.  It has always been a sad tournament.  There is no excitement, no enjoyment.  It is all defensive golf, from the first tee to the last putt.”  The words of Seve Ballesteros who never won a U.S. Open and whose closest finish was a 3rd place in 1987, five shots behind Scott Simpson.  Simpson was a classic U.S. Open player of his time.  He made 16 of his first 17 cuts in the U.S. Open and had a five-year stretch including his win where he was in the top 6 four times including a playoff loss to Payne Stewart in 1991.  Plodding and patience was rewarded and simply not emotionally malfunctioning was supremely important.  Seve would have been challenged in any era to win the U.S. Open but at his zenith he almost got it done because he was a genius as soon as he got off the teeing ground.  Today’s player is wired for aggression and the plodder or U.S. Open specialist doesn’t really exist anymore.  Lee Janzen is not walking through the clubhouse doors at LACC next week to contend.  But, to me, it’s not about the player anymore, it’s about the venues and the set-up.  For the last two decades the USGA has tried to be more benevolent, more inclusive of public golf courses as it relates to the host venue while also meandering through clumsy set up situations and potential rules infractions.  While all of those things were transpiring the Masters, and Augusta National, was ascending to a place in the public’s consciousness that put them way out in front as the major with unequaled gravitas.  While I’m very partial to the U.S. Open Championship as being the most charming and uplifting major to attend and watch, the Masters was taking digital distribution, the media experience, the modesty of concession prices, and the lore of the annual spring renewal to unmatched heights.  So, where is the U.S. Open now? 

“A difficult golf course eliminates a lot of players.  The U.S. Open flag eliminates a lot of players.  Some players weren’t meant to win the U.S. Open.  Quite often, a lot of them know it.”  Jack Nicklaus’ words personify the reputation the U.S. Open had firmly established when he won his first in 1962 and it was in place when he won his last in 1980.  It’s not easy to not buckle under public criticism and the scrutiny of your top players and the USGA like all golf organizations have had to adapt as social media has allowed for more noise unchecked by the masses and the stars.  Players don’t take on Augusta National on issues of set-up or “fairness”, it’s just not done, but it’s not like it’s not said privately.  The USGA has been made vulnerable by their own missteps and the changing times, but one thing must happen for them to regain what was once theirs.  Don’t apologize for your event being the hardest.  Don’t run from the reputation of the set-up walking the line, embrace it.  Don’t try again to go to new places for varying motivations when your rotation of big, brawny and ballsy U.S. Open venues have history on their side.  Los Angeles Country Club is already booked for a return visit in 2039 and after this week I believe fans are going to be begging for it to return sooner.  The USGA has the mind and skill of Gil Hanse as the true U.S. Open doctor who will not commit malpractice to the detriment of the championship or the hosting memberships of venues going forward including Merion, Oakmont, Winged Foot, and Oakland Hills.  Present America’s great golf courses under the most demanding and exacting conditions.  Be pragmatic with some interesting design features that give the best golf courses elasticity and variety.  Straddle that line and if your set-up crosses it, own the mistake and move on. And most importantly,  reclaim the steely refrain of the late Sandy Tatum who stated, “we’re not trying to humiliate the best players in the world, we are simply trying to identify who they are”.  Finally, it’s Hollywood, entertain us.