Mark’s Kaddy Korner

Senior PGA Championship – Canterbury CC

Sorry, this story should have started a few days ago but the body has been aching and I’ve spent all my time tending to my right hip, left knee, and resting as much as possible. Sitting in a chair and typing was pretty painful, I was propped up in bed with ice packs and heating pads attached to most of my lower body. The Aleve and ibuprofen are in the candy dish next to the bed; I’ve been munching them by the handful.

It’s no way to spend your time when you’re working for Tom Watson, but you do what you gotta do to get through the week. Tom is struggling a bit with his new hip and a sore left foot. We kidded each other yesterday after the practice round about the walking wounded and how we’d have to gimp around the course today.

The week started as usual. There were some minor confusion with the tournament parking but I eventually found the caddy lot after three or four phone calls to the tournament office and Canterbury CC. Like I said we were here in 1996 but my memory fails me. Nothing looked the same and I didn’t remember a lot about the course; neither did Todd and they won in 1996. I didn’t feel too bad.

We walked the front nine together and he gave me as many Tom pointers as he could. The more we walked and talked the more I realized Tom likes to keep thing simple. He likes to play within his limits and needs to know certain numbers so he can be comfortable with each shot. Those jitters were evaporating and as long as I did my homework Tom’s ball striking would take care of the rest. It was getting late when I got to the par five 660 yard sixteenth holes, the sprinklers were on, and so I called it quits and headed for the hotel. My body needed ice and heat, the beer only needed ice.

Tom’s pro-am time was 12:30 so I snuck out early and finished the last three holes. The original 1921 design by Hebert Strong had the sixteenth hole as a par 6. Can you imagine playing 660 yards with persimmon, hickory, and gutta percha? Well, maybe there was a little steel and balata by then. The hole is tough enough now and takes three well place shots to tame this monster. I needed all the proper numbers and shot lines; it took me awhile to circumnavigate this monster.

Tom showed up around eleven, as planned, but unloaded on the other side of the clubhouse. I felt a bit guilty when he walked up the driveway, shoes in hand, with a kid carrying his clubs. He looked me right in the eye, smiled, and said, “Good to see you. I’m going to grab a bite; I’ll meet you here in a bit.” I went from guilt to awe in a few minutes. While I was standing next to Tom’s bag I began to realize what Tom Watson means to the golf fan. As the spectators walked by they would point to the bag, whisper some reverent comments, and ask when Tom would be out. Just his golf bag made them pause; it was almost eerie. The next day I made a point to turn the bag around so the name was hidden; I wasn’t enjoying all the attention.

Tom wasn’t the only celebrity in our pro-am group; we had Michael Simon, Food Channel Iron Chef and his entourage. Tom traded golf lessons for cooking recipes and we had a blast. Barbs and jibes were launched in the first fairway and Michael’s father carried the team for most of the day. The youngsters got quite a ribbing from Tom and the boisterous crowd. Michael and his crew were Canterbury members so we had a pretty good gallery.

Tom is a born and raised Midwestern boy; you can see that in his interaction with everyone. He’s naturally interested in people and understands his position within the golf world. If possible, every autograph request is signed (excluding the EBay scum collectors) and the marshals get a friendly smile and hello. Tom spent some quality time with everyone and made them all feel like a personal friend. On the greens he read their putts, gave a few lessons, and told some stories.

The only problem with a pro-am as a first round together, you don’t get to discuss strategy or practice like you want. I made a few mistakes with numbers and lines off the tee boxes, but Tom handled each faux paus professionally and said we’d have it figured out by game time. We did birdie the first hole and our team won the pro-am. Like I said, it was fun but not profitable; only a handshake and thank you after the round from everyone.

After being off for the last couple of months my rhythm was off, my putter hand off was disjointed, and I couldn’t do five things at once like we have to do sometimes. I was trying to be Bruce but decided I’d better be me and not put any more pressure on myself. Relaxing and enjoying the walk; that was important for me, and Tom. You could tell he was naturally enjoying the company; it wasn’t forced or phony.

We said our good-byes after the round and Tom said he wouldn’t be out before ten o’clock Wednesday. That means I have to be there by 9:30 but he might not show up till noon. If I’m not there at ten he’s there; guess when he showed up. I was waiting patiently with bag my side from ten till after high noon; it’s part of the caddie job responsibility.

I really don’t mind because it’s a chance to catch up on old stories or check out course information with your trusted friends. I had to turn the bag around again so the spectators wouldn’t bother me; I was never rude just got tired of answering the same questions over and over. Most of the fans wanted to know when he was practicing and if he was playing a practice round. Since I couldn’t answer honestly I didn’t want to answer at all. Every generation wanted to know something about Tom Watson.

We headed for the practice tee and the volunteers gathered around to admire his swing. Max and Jerry, Adams reps, worked with Tom a bit. He was having some trouble getting his backswing to parallel; it sure looked good to me. For a caddie, the nice thing about his swing, it’s shallow, no divots, which means a fewer steps during a round. Those blades clip the ball off the top of the turf; there is not a lot of digging with divots flying everywhere.

A bucket of balls and a few putts and off to the first tee for a quick nine, I thought. We walked up to the first tee; Tom introduced himself to PGA Club Professional Gary Sowinski and asked to join him. The look on his face, and his caddie’s, was pure joy. They were going to play a practice round with one of the all time greats. This was the definition of professional golf walking the fairway. The eight time major champion playing alongside the San Diego club pro who spends most of his time folding sweaters, giving lessons, or ordering more tees. Golf brings all walks of life together and I’m not sure who enjoyed each other’s company more, Tom or Scott.

We all settled into the round after the first hole, which we birdied again, and enjoyed the walk while we prepared for the opening round. Canterbury has a number of short dogleg par fours with blind tee shots. The exact lines and distance control off the tee is imperative. We spent a lot of time hitting tee shots with various clubs off the difficult driving holes. Tom did not leave a tee box until he was comfortable; a true professional at work. He wanted precise numbers and we double checked a few carries over trees, through fairways, and around corners.

My hip was barking walking off the ninth tee, and when I saw him putting his glove on when we left the green, I sucked it up and struggled through the back nine. It was important to see the whole course again; I was glad we did, my hip wasn’t. You could see Tom was beginning to focus; his questions were more direct and he was developing a game plan for each hole. He told me he needs to play within his comfort limits, this practice round was establishing those limits.

Murph showed up on the fourteenth green for a quick putting lesson and followed us a few holes. He brought up the broken driver story from 1996, I tried to hush him, but he told it taking most of the blame. That’s not quite how I remember it, but it front of Tom I was glad Murph told it like he did. I’m making sure I lay the bag down whenever I walk away.

I’ve been around the Canterbury track three times, I think I’m ready, but you never know until the bell rings. Sometimes you can over prepare; I think we’re comfortable with the course and each other. Tom had a few questions about my caddy lingo but we clarified things and I think we’re on the same page. We’ll see tomorrow on the first tee.