Mark’s Kaddy Korner

Hey all,

The week actually started Sunday afternoon when we finished the McDonald’s Championship. I let them talk me into caddying the 36 hole qualifier for a very low fee, and I wasn’t happy with them or me. Forgetting to throw in a bonus if we made the cut, I worked my hind end off for free, starting late Sunday afternoon and finishing up about 6:30 Monday evening. It was a quick drive from Havre de Grace to Rockville, MD, Dan and Rubble were already at Woodmont CC scouting the course and I hooked up with them about 5:30.

Rubble and I negotiated a twilight cart rate and got busy surveying the 36 holes. Normally we walk the course but we only had a couple hours before sunset. We were only interested in getting the lines off the tees, elevation changes, lay up numbers, and finding the all important hole locations. Prior to every round the officials paint a small dot for the hole position and we did our best bloodhound imitation when we walked onto each green. If we could get the numbers around every pin and get a good idea of the green contours, club selection would be a lot easier, and we wouldn’t have to rely on guess work. It was a team effort, we gathered our information quickly, and headed for the Hilton after dark.

Hilton is a bit high class for me, but I was sharing a room with Rubble, and it was close. By the time we settled in our only option was a pricey, chicken pasta dinner at the bar that wasn’t worth the cost, but I felt like I needed carbs before the long day. The alarm went off at 4:45 and I met M.J. on the putting green at 6:00. Her dad was close by with an anxious look and seemed a bit irritated with me, but what else is new. He was constantly hovering around, critiquing her every move. I need to learn how to say “relax and back off” in Korean, but I don’t think it will help.

Thirty six holes is a physical and mental grind. It’s hard to stay in the game for 140+ shots, but it’s important, one bad decision can knock you out of the Open. I try to drink as much fluid as possible early in the day, munch on fruit and health bars during the round, and sneak into the shade whenever it’s available. It’s a slow steady march and I spent a lot of time between shots dutifully studying the yardage book. The other two caddies were LPGA veterans and by the end of the day I felt like we were old friends. We exchanged stories, jokes, and discussed sports whenever possible, but also pitched in to help each other whenever possible. That caddie team work means a lot during a long day.

1991 was the last time I was here and the book I was using was designed for the PGA Tour. The women were using different tee boxes so I had some last minute calculations, luckily there were no major screw-ups. Only once I had us on the wrong tee box and the lines we took off the tees left us in very good position most of the time. A few wayward drives left us in the short rough but she played steady all day. Our only major miscue was a sculled nine iron into a water hazard fronting the North course’s seventeenth green, our eighth hole during our second eighteen.

M.J. shot one over the first round and we knew the magic number would be about even par. That sculled nine iron was the start of a triple bogey and left us three over on the day. Her father was fuming but I had a little talk with M.J. She looked at me as if to say, “What’s the big deal, we’ll be okay.” The kid birdied the next two holes and lipped out on the third, showed a lot of character; and right then I realized she’s got some potential, I just may have to work for her awhile. We birdied a par five on our back nine and got it up and down twice finishing at even for the day. While she was signing the scorecard I tried to find out if even was good enough so I could settle dad down a bit. No one knew anything so I headed for the scoreboard.

You can tell who’s in, who’s out, and who’s on the bubble by their mannerisms and the beverage their beverage of choice. The players who made it are sipping beers, smiling, and discreetly congratulating one another. Those who are out walk directly to the board take a quick look and then head for the parking lot for some trunk slamming. The players and caddies on the bubble, in this case one over, are massaging their sore feet, sipping water or soda and preparing for the playoff. When I realized we were in I was standing next to Michelle Redman and her caddy “Coffee Joe”. They were sipping on beers after shooting three under and Michelle offered me what was left. A lukewarm draft beer never tasted so good.

I lost the Hur family for awhile, but that was okay with me, except I needed my check before I hit the road. The night before they asked me out for dinner but I was busy walking the course, and while M.J. was writing my measly check she again asked me to go to dinner. I politely refused because I had a long drive to somewhere, but wasn’t quite sure where I was heading. Hopefully, they weren’t insulted like I was with the numbers on the check. I told M.J. her agent needed to call me and that I would need a little more money if I was going to work for her. I finally said good-bye and headed for the caddy parking lot. I was tired and a bit upset, I didn’t want to ruin their celebration.

My brother left in hurry with his player, Reilley Rankin, taking her to the airport and leaving Rubble temporarily stranded. Walking into the caddy lot I saw Rubble standing by my van with a frustrated look and a small group of caddies sipping cold ones listening to the Grateful Dead. It was just like the old days; a stranded caddy and everyone there to help him out. We sipped a cold one with the crew, Rubble made some alternative plans, and I hit the road. I don’t think there would have been anyone in the lot if it was PGA Tour event; I kind of miss those simple days when we were one big happy, dysfunctional, family.

I made it to Hagerstown and spent the night at Bodett’s Inn. M.J.’s agent left a message that would have to wait; I needed to eat and replenish my liquids. A seafood sub and two MGD’s was all I needed before an early bedtime and fitful sleep. My legs started cramping and my stomach was queasy throughout the night. I guess that’s what 36 holes will do to you.

The next day I got a late start on my long drive and negotiated with M.J.’s agent throughout the morning. It’s hard to understand the Korean accent over the phone, and I didn’t accomplish much to benefit my check numbers. I’ll be evaluated over the next few weeks and maybe get a bit more moola the rest of the year. I think I see why this girl has already been through six or seven caddies this year.

Take care.

Mark