I Am Obsessed With and Addicted To:

Post Views: 1,683

I’m not really sure how I got hooked.

After all Stephen Bush and I went to play a round of golf when we were 15 or so.

We took the 161 bus to the 162 and that brought us to Cote St Luc’s Meadowbrook golf course.

All I can remember is trying to get some fruit out of the apple trees by throwing the putters up there.

That was it though. Never held a golf club again for 25 years or so.

While we traveled the Major League Baseball circuit some of the boys would play, but I never did. Late nights did not mesh well with early mornings. Afternoons were all about getting to the ballpark so it was early morning or nothing.

So, no golf for me.

I Laughed at them too. Chasing around a ball for a few hours with a stick!

Later, I would regret not going out to some of those courses. Spring training as an Expos announcer came with an invite to the team’s annual golf tournament.

I showed up for something I enjoyed way more than golf at the time.

Food.

Hell maybe I still enjoy it more, but I digress.

Sometime around the age of 40 another invitation came my way. A golfer was needed to complete a foursome. Why did I all of a sudden say yes?

I do not know.

Bottom line though, I fell in love that day.

Maybe it was all that green or perhaps how it looked against the white sand of the bunkers. Or perhaps it was watching my first golf hero play.

Man could Randy Tieman play.

In the end I would play with plenty of golfers that were Randy’s equal and even much better, but up close here was an everyman that was clearly way better than the rest of us.

He could hit it long. He could hit it straight. He could putt.

I so wanted to be good at this game. I started going to the driving range on Cote De Liesse.

I started playing their par 3 course.

They gave you a seven iron, a nine iron and a putter. Longest hole was 150 yards.

I couldn’t hit it long or straight and I couldn’t putt.

Hell, it took me 20 years to learn how to putt!

Once I got the bug I would need some sticks. I didn’t want to spend too much on something that I might give up in short order. I got a McGregor set from Canadian Tire and started out trying to learn what the hell to do with these things. All I ever wanted to do was to become somewhat proficient.

Golf is very hard.

Gord Logan, a CFCF newsman at the time, had gone from non golfer to instructor in short order. He used to bring a few clubs and whiffle golf balls to the office newsroom. I asked him for a few lessons. He took my clubs when we met and hit a few shots. The clubs seemed to work for him. To the last day I owned them they never worked like that for me.

I promised myself that I would get a better set of clubs if I ever broke 100. That day came in Brooksville Florida. As a sub 100 round came into view in the early evening, the sun started to disappear.

But I wasn’t going anywhere.

I finished in the dark.

Then I got myself some new sticks. Callaway knockoffs. I should have gotten the real things. Oh well.

I promised myself new clubs again when I broke 90.

Funny thing golf. You get better the more you play, and then you don’t. You swing at a ball and it pops up right in front of you having gone about 3 feet. And then you do it again. All of a sudden you feel like you’ve never played the game before. How is this possible?

I almost gave it up a few times back then but I couldn’t. I was hopelessly addicted.

I’ve taken a few lessons in my life and I’ve been able to take a few things from them. For the most part it’s been trial and error and some tips here and there. The first thing I got decent at was chipping.

I was in San Francisco staying at the Park 55 hotel waiting on a baseball broadcast. Golf Channel academy was having a chipping lesson. I had my clubs with me. Some lessons work for you and some don’t.

That one was magical, everything works to this day. And sorry to the folks at the Park 55 and the divot I took out of the carpet.

Legit.

The window shade coverings were made of a thick vinyl type material. You could literally hit full shots into them and the ball would softly roll down and back to the floor.

When Major League Baseball decided the Expos were no longer to be in Montreal, and Washington decided that I was no longer to be in baseball, my career direction change led to a crazy amount of golf rounds. Since I finished working the radio show at 10 I got to play every day. And practice.

I got way better. But I still had trouble with a driver and a putter. I got into the low teens with my handicap, Then I made a promise on the radio.

I swore I would be willing to endure a whole year of bad golf if…the Chicago Black Hawks would finally win a Stanley Cup.

Now you may find this hard to believe but they won.

And I got bad. Really, truly bad.

I would go to the driving range and groove a beautiful swing. I didn’t want to leave because I knew I would then go to the course and suck. And it didn’t last just one year. It lasted three!

Everyone had advice and nothing would work.

After one particularly bad round I was invited to play at a prestigious Montreal course and worried about embarrassing myself. After a bad front nine I decided i needed to do a few things immediately:

I would choke up a little.
I would cut down on my back swing.
I would aim out to right-center (I pulled everything).
I would schedule a golf lesson for the following Monday.

I shot 41 on the back nine and have not played that badly since, and cancelled the golf lesson. Or perhaps the Hawks winning another Cup that spring lifted the curse.

I joined the Ile Perrot golf course that became Windmill Heights and made some incredible friends. I won a club championship thanks to that chipping lesson from the Park 55.

After three days and 53 holes, and with my son Myles on my bag for 5 hours, I missed a tap in on the last hole to send it to a two man playoff. On the second playoff hole I hit my second shot about 40 yards with a 3-wood into a fairway bunker. My opponent hit his second shot beside the green on the par 5 and chipped to nine feet. He was there in 3 and I got to the rough beside the green in 3.

With a good deal of the membership surrounding the green, I was just hoping to get it close when I magically chipped in for birdie and the championship when my opponent missed his putt.

Greatest sports moment of my life. And yet it was so much cooler to be there to watch the joy my son had when he got his first birdie.

I’ve had two holes in one. They came six weeks apart.

But it was someone else’s hole in one that blew me away.

I’ve played the last three golf seasons with a few different people in Whitby, just outside of Toronto.

My most frequent partner has been Norm.

Now 72 and having been a real good golfer his entire life, Norm had never had one. I would tell him every day:

“Today’s the day Norm!”

Or we would get to a par 3 and I would tell him:

“This is the hole Norm, you’re so close I can feel it.

I’ve also told him:

“I’m worried about you playing with other people Norm because that hole-in-one is coming and I’ll be jealous when you do it not playing with me”

Well damn it if it doesn’t come true.

It was the last hole on a lazy Sunday summer morning. I yelled and had a tear in my eye.

Norm’s hole in one.

A few weeks later I almost chipped in on that hole. The ball hit the flag, went down and came back out again to sit just beside the hole. I tapped in for my best round ever.

I shot 74!

All I ever wanted was to be proficient.

Thanks to Harvey Penik for the baseball grip with my driver.

Thanks to Rick at Windmill Heights who took me into the bunker after telling me:

“I can’t watch you anymore!”

Thanks to Bill for teaching me to be calm. Thanks to Dave for preaching “Tempo!”

Thanks to Norm for asking and telling me:

“Can I give you a tip? You’ll never make a putt with your feet aligned that way.”

Thanks to my legs for letting me walk every round I play,

Thanks to T for the invite (Miss you Randy).

Thanks to the Hawks for the second Stanley Cup (And the third)

And thanks to my wife for letting me play almost every day!