Golf Thread 2.0 - Jon Rahm sucks

Discussion in 'The Mainboard' started by Jigga, Apr 8, 2015.

  1. Jigga

    Jigga Ty Webb is a mean person
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    User jigga has been on a 617yd par 5 driver 3 iron so I’m happy you played well
     
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  2. ZeroPointZero

    ZeroPointZero RIP #24
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    there were about 4 or 5 legitimate laugh out loud moments but I loved when he said his favorite flavor vape was "yogurt"
     
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  3. CUAngler

    CUAngler Royale with Cheese
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    I think it took Neil about 10 seconds to figure out what he said to start off the interview. I couldn't understand him a lot but lold a lot at his views on enjoying life and not worrying about his fitness.
     
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  4. tjosu

    tjosu This is kind of like the breakfast club, huh?
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    The bit about wanting to have a kid but can’t figure out what the problem has been and practicing was great
     
  5. IrishLAX2

    IrishLAX2 So you’re telling me there’s a chance
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    Which course in Denver was it?
     
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  6. Jigga

    Jigga Ty Webb is a mean person
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    South Florida
     
  7. IrishLAX2

    IrishLAX2 So you’re telling me there’s a chance
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    Weird name for a course out there
     
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  8. hudson

    hudson Oh, you know...stuff.
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    Needs everyone’s thoughts on something.

    So last year I took some lessons with a pro who I actually have known since HS. Changed my swing completely. I had some pretty decent results with it towards the end of last season.

    So this year I’ve only played a few rounds of sim golf and the range a couple times. I am not sure on actual distance but I’m crushing my driver right now, not far offline and good ball flight.

    Two problems. My iron swing feels incredibly herky-jerky and the pro I was seeing moved to a course without a range, so all of our sessions we would be playing and nothing on the range.

    Should I continue to see the current one or should I make the change elsewhere? Really wish I would have put more time and effort into like renting time places over the winter.
     
  9. Goose

    Goose Hi
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    My customer claimed to me that he can drive a ball 400 yards. It was very hard for me to keep a straight face.
     
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  10. MODEVIL

    MODEVIL Well-Known Member
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    He can also throw a football over them mountains
     
  11. RalfBully

    RalfBully #21
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    Boring as fuck day/tournament.
     
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  12. Goose

    Goose Hi
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    There is basketball on
     
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  13. Jigga

    Jigga Ty Webb is a mean person
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    Need to take it off the schedule
     
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  14. mal630

    mal630 Well-Known Member
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    I live about 45 min from Farmlinks and have played a few events there. Really cool place. You can have a guys trip and rent cabins and have a great time.
     
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  15. Zack Zedalis

    Zack Zedalis Silver Foxin'
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    Shut your mouth. I’m doing the Pro Am again next year:smug:
     
  16. Jigga

    Jigga Ty Webb is a mean person
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    I think if anything this proves my point
     
  17. 1

    1 A real fan. GBR!
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    If I lived around there and had a wife and kids I would seriously look at a membership there so I could spend entire weekends there. Cool ass place.
     
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  18. fish

    fish Impossible, Germany
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    Since no one replied to your question, I will. Don't unnecessarily begin sentences with the word "so".
     
  19. DuffandMuff

    DuffandMuff Well-Known Member
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    Where does innisbrook rank among other PGA tour events in terms of difficulty? Winner never goes low there.
     
  20. hudson

    hudson Oh, you know...stuff.
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    So what about the actual question then.
     
  21. Jigga

    Jigga Ty Webb is a mean person
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    I’m allergic to practice but if your goal is to improve that happens with reps on the range. So wether that be on your own with what he teaches you or with a new pro that’s up to you
     
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  22. Ty Webb

    Ty Webb Living rent free in Jigga's head
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    Who is it?
     
  23. Sportfan

    Sportfan From Six to Dumptime
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    What’s your handicap and where are you losing shots?

    I always enjoyed giving playing lessons and felt my students got a lot more from them than range sessions. The nice thing was they could shoot better scores without improving because I knew they didn’t practice any drills I gave them. Most people make very poor decisions in some many different scenarios. If you’re a double digit handicap who lives in a climate that makes practice tough, this might be the fastest way to lower scores.
     
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  24. RalfBully

    RalfBully #21
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    One of my favorite courses this wk. would love to be on a boat getting shit faced watching this there
     
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  25. tjosu

    tjosu This is kind of like the breakfast club, huh?
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    Really enjoyed this. I'd love to listen to an equipment guy get into all the tour only products and explain differences and features

     
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  26. IrishLAX2

    IrishLAX2 So you’re telling me there’s a chance
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    For drivers, it’s usually a smaller profile, deeper face, and less draw bias compared to retail. That’s basically exactly what the tour version Epic Flash everyone is issuing on tour is.
     
  27. tjosu

    tjosu This is kind of like the breakfast club, huh?
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    Yeah he did mention the head differences in that vid on the three diamond Flash. He also had cases of the tour only Chrome Softs which sounds similar to the left dot ProV that is apparently pretty common.
     
  28. MODEVIL

    MODEVIL Well-Known Member
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  29. The B1G Kucktis

    The B1G Kucktis 2 years, VARSITY!!
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    That is fucking absurd.
     
  30. NineteenNine

    NineteenNine Divers are, in fact, wankers. It's science.
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    Tiger's stats from back then are just unbelievable.
     
  31. Schadenfred

    Schadenfred Well-Known Member

    Spoilered for size...

    Sorry for the delayed response. I didn't want to stray too much into an obvious off-topic conversation. Anyway...

    As mentioned, I caddied at Muirfield for a few years during the summers back in college. I was also among a small group of caddies that arrived early in the morning to set up the range, carts, water jugs, and what not.. It was a good place to work, the course was/is awesome, and the money was solid. Most members and guests were cool, but some were dicks. A top 5 dick was Jack.

    My second summer there, I worked the Memorial Tournament. I vacationed during the tournament the first year and realized that that was a big mistake if I looked to make any money the rest of the season. Our caddiemaster Jeff was a certified A-type nutjob who screamed at the caddies as loud as I've heard anyone scream. No exaggeration. He got along with me, though, since I worked hard, was clean cut, never received any complaints, and was always a "yes, sir; no, sir" kind of kid. He later told me that he knew my uncle from high school about an hour away. My uncle told me that Jeff was expelled for throwing cherry bombs down toilets in the boys' bathroom. Jeff concurred and was proud of that.

    So the first year working the tournament, I manned the bag room. Most players, though certainly not all, would keep their bags at the club. We kept Tiger's bag locked in the back room on the days he kept it there. Most others it went with him. Understandable since if there was one bag that was going to be gawked at and perhaps messed with, it was Tiger's. -- (By the way, I have a funny story about my job andTiger, though not exactly about him. Would include it, but this post is already going to be long enough as it is) -- So I and others logged the bags, periodically checked them, cleaned them when asked, and did countless other things completely unrelated to the bags. Lots of small jobs.

    One of the bigger roles was keep track of caddies who wore a Muirfield hat instead of something else. If they did, they'd receive a small amount of money per day. If I remember correctly, it was around $20. We'd have guys go around the course and spot-check the caddies to insure they weren't switching hats. Various companies would also pay them for wearing branded hats, so the caddies would look to get double-paid by pulling a fast one on us. Some of them tried, and some of them would be rather dickish about it. The overwhelming majority of caddies were cool and/or just kept to themselves.

    For that particular Memorial, I probably logged the most hours out of pretty much anyone at the club that week -- or at least was close to it. I was FiLo: first in, last out. I put 107 hours on the clock. Add in drive time to the club, and it was a very, very long week. As a "reward" for all the work, the caddiemaster gave me the option of carrying Jack's bag for Monday's major sponsor outing (Marsh & McLennan). Obviously, I leapt at the opportunity. I was on cloud nine. The other senior caddies whom I opened the course with snickered. I didn't understand exactly why they laughed but soon found out.

    So the Monday following the tournament, we had a large outing with businesses executives and one player in each group. The caddies wore overalls just like the caddies did in the tournament. On the back was the "caddieback," which was the name of the player on a rectangular piece of cloth that was removable with snaps. With Nicklaus' name on my back, I strutted around the caddie yard like I was hot shit. I invented reasons just to walk around before the outing so I could showcase whose bag I had. Big man in the caddie yard. I'm sure the senior caddies were laughing at me the whole time. They knew what was coming.

    Before the outing started, there was a mic'd up presentation for the executives and guests at the driving range. Probably 150ish in the stands. One by one, a handful of pros talked to the crowd while hitting shots. If I remember correctly, Phil was there before us. I was asked to stand next to Jack's bag as he did his own thing. Clean clubs and look like an idiot. This really made me anxious. Knots in the stomach at the idea of standing alone in front of a large crowd next to the best player of all time.

    So before Jack was announced, I was standing off to the side with him, his bag, the club's GM, and the head pro. Nicklaus had actually made the cut that year, which was not expected. He was an old guy who played four rounds of competitive golf, and it wore him down. This guy was throwing a literal fucking temper tantrum as the GM and head pro told him he had no choice. Jack did NOT want to play. This went on for several minutes. He was whining and crying worse than any two-year-old.

    It was then that I knew I was I going to have a bad day.

    Jack finally relented and the head pro presented him to the large crowd. There I was with no one but Jack within a good 25 yards. So he starts out by saying he didn't want to be there. Seriously. That's like the first thing he says. Awkward laugh from the crowd. Silence. Jack goes on. He asks for the pitching wedge and hits like a 5-yard shot. He then hits a 10-yard shot. And so on. He tells the crowd this is how he warms up. He gradually builds up the shortest club -- other than a sand wedge, that is. After five or so shots, he finally takes a full swing.

    I kid you not, the divot started a full foot behind the ball. The pelt fell on top of the ball like an overgrown toupée. Jack doubled over with his hands on both knees. He let out a large groan that echoed.

    All I could think was, "What do I do?" I knew that if I tried to help him up, he'd bite my hand. If I didn't, then I'm the jerk who let the old GOAT fall to the ground. So I just stood there and did nothing. All the while, complete silence. Seriously. Dead silence. He finally stood upright and said to the crowd, "I told you I didn't want to be here." More sparse and awkward laughs.

    After the short lesson was over, he continued whining to the GM and head pro before relenting. We started on hole no. 1 in a four-ball with the most important execs. I and the three other caddies get to the first tee well before the players. They'll be playing from the members' tees, which are a couple up from championship. Jack has never played from those tees (or at least that's what he said), but about 75% of the members do.

    Nicklaus was the first pro I ever caddied for. Quite the first to pop my cherry. The other caddies in my group had, though, and so I riddled them with countless nervous questions. One told me the three rules to follow: 1) Never make Jack wait for anything, 2) Always be ready with a towel behind Jack when he picks up the ball on the green, and 3) And never, ever, NEVER give him advice. As far as the second rule goes, I was told that Jack would pick up the ball and hand it off behind his back without looking. If you're not there to immediately take the ball, just start walking home.

    So for pretty much everyone I had ever caddied for and as is standard for caddies, you pull out the driver(s) on the first hole and set it against the bag(s). Sometimes players can't hit the driver and just grab something else. No biggie. Almost never does a player choose another club because he's too long. There are some bunkers off to the right that jut into the fairway; however, if the players are long enough, they would rather opt to try to drive over them rather than hit a shorter club.

    I obviously wasn't thinking, pulled out Jack's driver before he got to the tee, and set it against the bag. Big, big, BIG mistake. Looking back, I wondered why the other caddies didn't say something. But I know it's because they wanted to watch a lion mangle an injured goat.

    So Jack walks up and says with his high-pitched, nasally voice, "What? You think I should hit the driver?" I say nothing. I say nothing because I have no clue what to say.

    "Give me the 3-wood." I give him the 3-wood. He hits the ground.. again... before the ball. Like six inches behind the ball. Jack Nicklaus drop-kicked the ball on the first tee. It went about 160 yards with about 60 yards of it on the ground. We arrive at the ball and he says sarcastically to me (but not really to me) and the crowd following, "Yep. you're right... Should have hit the driver." As if it was my fault he hit a pathetic drvie. Ugh.

    We then get to hole no. 2.

    He hits a good tee shot to about 150 yards out. It's within a few steps of an easily visible sprinkler head that has the distances on it. I'm thinking to myself before they arrive, "Do I walk this off? Everyone can see the sprinkler head. The distance is obvious. But I'm caddying for Jack, so..." So I walk it off. The ball is one-and-a-half steps away from the sprinkler. It's 155-1/2.

    I think to myself, "Do I tell him 155 or 156? Which number does he want? He's going to know it's not 155 or 156. And he's Jack Nicklaus."

    So I tell him "It's 155 to hole. 140 to the front and 155 to the hole" when he gets to the ball and nods at me.

    The group ahead of us is already slow. We have, like, 25 groups for 18 holes. So we wait. He talks to some people while we wait for a few minutes. Meanwhile, I'm really overthinking this. I'm wondering whether he would actually want the bigger number. Not 155. I somehow rationalize that he'd want the bigger number and decide to tell him 156 when he asks again. Yes, I know. I'm a fucking idiot. Anyway, I figure he's already forgotten that I told him 155, wasn't paying attention, or wouldn't even care.

    Wrong.

    "What's the distance again?"

    "156 to the hole. 140 to the front and 156 to hole."

    He looks around, looks at me, pauses, and says -- I kid you not -- "Son, I can hit the ball 155 yards and I can hit the ball 156. Which one is it?" He wasn't smiling. He was not making a joke. Nobody else laughed. Everyone stared. At me.

    He then hits the ball 145 yards. And then he glares daggers at me while handing back the club. As if it was my fault he hit it 10 yards short. Ugh.

    Now we get to hole 9. The tee box is immediately to the left of 8's green. Things are going pretty well for me. In other worse, I've gone several holes without cocking something up. I'm feeling good about myself. I'm doing this.

    As we're waiting on the tee box yet again for about 5 minutes, we hear "Fore!" from group behind. Actually, we hear about 8 simultaneous and very loud "fores." The group behind obviously knew who was in the group ahead, so everyone was extra cautious.

    After hearing "fore," a thought crosses my mind to cover Jack like he's the president. And so I do. The ball hits the cart path next to us and bounces over us. He steps back and says with everyone hearing, "You know, that was really nice of you. You didn't have to do that, but thank you."

    Someone pats me on the back, and for a fleeting moment, everything feels right in the world.

    And then two fighter jets fly right above us.

    This was the Memorial Day after 9/11. For whatever reason, there was a heightened alert due to terrorist chatter. Maybe Code Yellow. While we were still waiting on the tee box after I submitted my application for the Secret Service, two fighter jets broke the sky and roared directly over top of us. And when I say directly, I mean directly. It felt like they could have scraped the tree tops. Moreover, they didn't just fly over top of us, but they banked a hard left up toward the clouds. And way up in the clouds in the jets' apparent path we could see a commercial liner.

    We all just stood there with our mouths agape. No one said a word. I'm sure we were all wondering, "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing"? But the jets ultimately disappeared from view.

    Hidden behind the trees to the left of the tee box is Jack's house. You can barely see it. So with all this muted tension in the air and everyone apparently on edge, I decide to be the clown. Again, there are about 20 people following our group. For whatever idiotic reason, I'm the one who tries to cut that tension.

    "Mr. Nicklaus, do you have a bomb shelter?"

    Silence. More silence.

    "Now, now why would you say something like that? Huh? What do you mean?" His tone was dismissive and mean. Belittling. Not like I didn't deserve it, though.

    My autonomic reflex immediately after hearing the word "mean" was to send all contents from my stomach and upper intestine down to the tip of my colon. My body chose "flight" rather than "fight." How I didn't shit myself I do not know.

    And while that morning's breakfast was knocking on the brown door, I spat out "I'msorryMr.Nicklaus" as if it was all one word.

    Again, silence. No one said anything. All eyes burn me. And they burn. Finally Jack puts two and two together. He nods and says, "Oh, I get it now," referencing the heightened alert. He doesn't laugh, though. No one laughs. We move on and I think of ways to kill myself.

    When then get to hole 17 for the last "Jack story" of that round. Some other things happened (like getting chased by hornets on hole 11 while looking for a ball in a creek) or him belittling an idolzing member in front of everyone, but there was nothing too major.

    Hole 17 is a long par 4. As stated before, they're playing from the member tees. There is a bunker off to the right and the fairway ends before a ditch well in the distance. For almost all members and guests I caddie for, I hand them a driver and forecaddie (i.e., walk/jog out to about where their drives should land). But because it's Jack, there is no forecaddying that day. I go to each tee with him.

    As we're standing on the tee waiting for the group ahead to leave, he asks how far it is to the bunker on the right. This is a question I've never had asked nor would ever anticipate. The bunker is not in play unless you hit the ball off the fairway. For me to figure out the distance, I need to know the length of the hole as well as the distance from the back of the bunker to the front of the green. I'd subtract those two numbers. I'd use our yardage book, but the distances from the members' tees aren't included. Moreover, this particular tee box is like 40 yards long, we're at the front, and the brick listing the hole's distance is all the way at the back. So I start to jog back to find the brick and walk it off.

    Jack stops me and says, "No, no... Just give me an estimate."

    I do a very quick calculation and say, "I think it's 255 to that bunker, Mr. Nicklaus."

    Jack looks around (again, there is a small gallery), smirks, snaps back at me saying, "Well, unless Scotty (his regular tour caddie who had the day off) has been lying to me the whole week, that bunker is no more than 245 yards away."

    I so wanted to roll my eyes and clap back at him. What I wanted to say was, "Well, Jack, first of all, if it's 245 to that bunker, then I think 255 is a pretty darn good estimate, don't you think? And second of all, if you already knew it was 245 to that bunker, why the fuck did you ask me in the first place... dick."

    Man, I was heated. Of course, I didn't say anything and just walked back to the bag with my head down while everyone around me chuckled. But I desperately wanted to take a 7-year iron and tee off on him.

    The guy is just an utter dick to anyone he feels is beneath him, which is pretty much everyone. So damn belittling. Whenever something goes wrong, he looks for someone else to blame. It's never his fault. He never does anything wrong. And he looks for the most petty things to pick at. Things I never mentioned.

    Like another time I carried his bag, I reached out my hand to shake his when he first walked up. I knew he didn't like that, but I didn't really care anymore. I would be a by-the-books caddie, but I was never going above and beyond for him and I wouldn't do all the tiny things I knew he wanted. So about 5 minutes after he shook my hand, he was taking some practice swings on the first tee. He tells me next time not to put on sunscreen. He says I have sunscreen on my hands and now his hands are greasy. Again, this is minutes later. Also, I never even fucking used sunscreen that day. I tell him that. He says, "No, you have sunscreen on your hands." I say, "Mr.Nicklaus, I haven't put on sunscreen and you're the only person's hands I've shaken." Jack, "No, you have sunscreen on your hands."

    Despite typing all of that, which I never intended, I could share a lot more. That's probably a tenth of my Jack stories. Yeah, he was a decent guy most other times. Or at least he was hardly worth a mention. But too often, he was just a dick. Give me Phil any day of the week. Dude may come off as flaky and fake, but he's nice when away from the cameras. Montgomerie, too. Not at all stuck up. And several other pros are good guys who treat you with respect despite being "just a caddie."
     
    #20731 Schadenfred, Mar 27, 2019
    Last edited: Mar 27, 2019
  32. poor paul

    poor paul Well-Known Member
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    Wrexham AFC

    but how much did Kuchar tip you?
     
  33. 1

    1 A real fan. GBR!
    Staff Donor
    Nebraska CornhuskersTiger WoodsPGAOlympicsFormula 1

    Tyfys

    Just another reason why Tiger = GOAT and not Jack. Tiger may be guilty of banging 0.1% of the chicks that want to bang him but he'll respect the looper!
     
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  34. 1

    1 A real fan. GBR!
    Staff Donor
    Nebraska CornhuskersTiger WoodsPGAOlympicsFormula 1

    Funny question but for real...

    Who gave you the biggest tips and how much?
     
  35. Schadenfred

    Schadenfred Well-Known Member

    My funny "Tiger story" that isn't really about Tiger:

    Pretty sure it was late Friday night or Saturday night. I was alone in the caddie room at about 10 o'clock doing a bunch of small odd jobs while answering phone calls coming in every now and then. I was sitting at a large table in the caddie commons with a TV on and various papers strewn about. What I was primarily working on, though, was sorting through all the caddiebacks (i.e., the players names ironed onto the rectangular pieces of cloth, which the caddies wore) in alphabet order. Checking names and sorting. There is always a risk that the caddies wouldn't return the uniforms after each round.

    Anyway, while I'm listening to the TV, sorting through the caddiebacks, checking off the names, and answering phone calls, I'm also making a few signs to be posted the following day. I have a bunch of markers in varying colors. In the middle of using one permanent marker, a phone call comes in. I answer it and spend a few minutes discussing whatever.

    And then I return to the table where I was working. My stomach drops. Again, that day's meals are looking for the nearest exit and they're in a rush.

    When I took the phone call, I was using a marker. I set the marker down and didn't put the cap back on. The ink bled through about a third of one of the 12" x 5" caddiebacks. It was Tiger's caddieback. The ink was pink.

    So a third of Tiger's caddieback was stained bright pink. It was 10 o'clock the night before a weekend round. The tournament grounds were largely empty. I didn't know whom to call because it was so late and because I didn't know that many people.

    I freaked out. Pacing back and forth and back and forth. Hands running through and pulling my hair. Muttering. Being so damn tired with a headache from hours of coffee that I felt like crying.

    Then I had an idea. I searched the caddimaster's desk and found what I was looking for: Wite-Out fluid. I coated that sucker about 5 times, resulting in a thick, crackled layer of correction fluid. It actually didn't look all that bad.

    So the next day when Tiger's caddie Steve Williams showed up for his suit and caddieback, I made damn sure that I was the guy to help him out. I put the caddieback on for him so he wouldn't have a chance to notice anything amiss. But what worried me most was that there was a good chance of rain that day. I pictured it pouring and the Wite-Out being washed away to reveal a big pink stain running through Tiger's name on the caddie uniform. To be sure, I was an uneasy mess all day long.

    Fortunately, it never rained and when Steve returned the suit, he said nothing. No one else to my knowledge noticed.
     
  36. HatterasJack

    HatterasJack Is your refrigerator running? It's Mike Hunt.
    Donor

    This part killed me for some reason. If you wanted to get fired could have responded with..."Perhaps you misheard me. I said 155, not 145." Thanks for that story though, really enjoyed that insight.
     
  37. animal_mother

    animal_mother Well-Known Member
    Clemson TigersTennessee TitansLiverpool

    Thanks for the stories. Mr. Palmer would have never treated you like that.
     
  38. Schadenfred

    Schadenfred Well-Known Member

    Pretty it was an old line that Bobby Jones or Ben Hogan was known to have used. Would have been one thing if he said it with a smile. But everything he said was condescending.
     
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  39. Schadenfred

    Schadenfred Well-Known Member

    While true, he also would have fucked my mom in the parking lot.
     
  40. Schadenfred

    Schadenfred Well-Known Member

    By the way, by the far the nicest player I ever met was Gary Player. Guy's just a bro. Very easygoing and humble.
     
    HuskerInMiami, 1 and gus_chiggins like this.
  41. tjosu

    tjosu This is kind of like the breakfast club, huh?
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    :laugh:
     
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  42. Schadenfred

    Schadenfred Well-Known Member

    Was that meant for me? If so, pros don't tip much. At least not any of the ones I've caddied for. And Jack was the absolute worst. Each private club has a recommended minimum, but each member pays a substantial amount above that. Not Jack.

    What's worse is that you carry only Jack's bag. So instead of the normal rate for two bags, you'd make the absolute minimum for one. Nobody liked carrying Jack's bag except for newbies who didn't know any better and the idiots who idolize athletes.
     
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  43. Schadenfred

    Schadenfred Well-Known Member

    I can only speak of my experiences. He was very nice when cameras and so-called bigwigs weren't around to notice.
     
  44. * J Y *

    * J Y * TEXAS
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    Even if he was a total dick I’d carry his bag for free just for the story that you’re telling right now.
     
  45. Schadenfred

    Schadenfred Well-Known Member

    Oh, absolutely. I'm happy to have carried his bag. I mean, it's Jack Fucking Nicklaus. The stories make up for all the hassles and the poor money. But after the first two or three times, you're over it. You're WAY over it. Jack's stories don't pay the rent, and getting treated like dirt gets old really quick.
     
  46. * J Y *

    * J Y * TEXAS
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    Yea this also just illustrates why I think being a caddie is such great experience. Learning to deal with assholes is a great lesson. Gonna push for my boys to caddie.
     
  47. 1

    1 A real fan. GBR!
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    Shooters shoot!
     
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  48. Schadenfred

    Schadenfred Well-Known Member

    Really good job for someone in high school or college. The connections are there if you hustle, have a good attitude, and work the members without bothering them.

    Also, worked as a waiter and bartender in college. For pure on-the-job experience alone, I'd recommend that one much more than caddying. Between everything learned from time management, social skills, and execution under pressure, it's a fantastic experience. Those life skills are highly translatable no matter the chosen career path.
     
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  49. We$tTxO&G

    We$tTxO&G Well-Known Member
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    thanks for the stories Schadenfred

    any lee trevino stories?
     
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  50. Schadenfred

    Schadenfred Well-Known Member

    Never met Trevino, but here's one about a player (or his son, really) from that era:

    Ray Floyd's son was playing a round without his father. He gets to a short par 3 with a fence to the right and a few $$$ homes. To the right of the back tee box is a house with a swimming pool. At the pool is a girl sunbathing with a drink in her hand. He walks up to the fence and asks if she's drinking a "Penis Colada."

    Turns out she's in high school. She tells dad. Dad goes straight to Jack. Jack goes to Ray. The next week there is a row of bushes blocking the view of the pool.