Week #12 — and the official arrival of spring — brought us a variety of weather. But any time we’re playing golf in March, that’s an early spring around here.
On Wednesday, various weather predictions for Friday ranged from 9 to 24 inches of snow — plus high winds. Not only did we get zero snow on Friday, but at about 3:30, the sun peeked out for a couple of minutes. I’m tempted to say that the snow was knee-deep and post photos of buried cars. But I think I’ll go the other route and declare that the local weather forecast is fake news.
In other big news from last week, the President of the United States said some things that weren’t true.
That’s America these days — global warming and a (literally) unbelievable President.
Here’s a photo from each day last week — Week #8 of 2017.
Yesterday I played golf with daughter Emily. All was going well (except for the golf) until we were walking to the tee of the final hole and my cell phone rang. It was a mysterious male voice asking where we were.
Against my better judgement, I told the voice our location — on the 9th tee waiting for group of elderly women playing just ahead of us. The voice said, “OK — I have a visual on you just behind the Cotton Tops”. Moments later, two well dressed, but shadowy figures were walking toward us.
As they got closer, they paused for a moment and appeared to be holding hands.
I had a queasy feeling about what was going down. Who were these guys — FBI agents? An Evangelical conversion squad? The IRS? Door-to-door shoulder bag salesmen?
They gave me the creeps and I wanted to run, but Emily was my daughter after all, and I felt I needed to protect her.
So I backed up slowly instead of breaking into a full gallop.
Then they got close enough for me to see their faces.
They identified themselves as resident psychiatrists from the nearby clinic, apparently part of some sort of outreach program designed to identify potential “clients”.
Emily was greatly relieved and played the final hole masterfully.
But their explanation didn’t put my mind at ease one bit. In fact, the whole experience traumatized me. I had nightmares all through the night and now I can’t get those smirky smiles or that voice on the phone out of my head.
And I may never be able to play golf again.
Winter golf in Minnesota is a bit of a challenge. But there are a few options:
1. Watch golf on TV. (most popular)
2. Go outdoors and try to actually play a version of the game of golf.An example of this is the “The Chilly Open”, which takes place today in Wayzata, Minnesota on Lake Minnetonka. Unfortunately, all their tee times are sold out, so if you didn’t plan ahead, you can only go out and be part of the gallery. The event looks like it could be fun — at least the eating and drinking afterward.
3. Head to one of Minnesota’s luxurious golf domes. This is what I do occasionally with friends Roger and Bob.
Go through the airlock revolving door and you are instantly transported to another world — one where nothing is natural, nothing real. It’s a place you can — you must — let your imagination run wild. It can be Pebble Beach, St. Andrews, or the crappy muni in your town. It can be anything you want it to be if you just close your eyes and swing away.
But don’t think it’s all about whacking drivers or hitting fat iron shot off mats that fly just as well as crisply hit ones. There are places to hone the short game, too. The putting and chipping areas are easily as good as many mini-golf courses – without the pesky windmill, dinosaur or pirate getting in the way.
So a good time was had by all on Friday afternoon. Did we improve our swings? Probably not. Did we get sore backs? Yes. Did we do anything that vaguely resembled golf? That’s unclear.
But we Minnesotans are a grateful people, and it was worth a few bucks to get out — then get in — and hang out, use our imaginations and think about real grass and warm sunshine. And just like real golf, sometimes it’s not about the golf.
So those those are pretty much all of the Minnesota winter golf options.
4. Actually, there is an option #4, which is the one Roger is choosing. Get on an airplane on Tuesday and fly to Palm Springs.
Good for Roger and his airplane. I couldn’t be happier for him.
“Don’t try to cut the corner on #1.”
Monrad Peterson, golf coach of the Spring Lake Park High School golf team in the late ’60s was a man of few words when it came to actually giving advice about golf. But whenever I tee up on the first hole at Keller Golf Course in St. Paul, I always hear his voice — and his words still ring true more than 40 years later.
Friday was a magnificent, sunny, last-70-degree-day-of-the-year kind of a day. If you’re a golfer in Minnesota, this means you either get yourself to a golf course or regret if for six months. Friends Roger Buoen, Bob Jansen and Bob Whereatt joined me for a nice last-gasp round.
I play Keller infrequently these days, but decided yesterday that I have to change that next year. I’ve played a lot of courses over the years, but Keller is my hands down favorite.
My love for this place comes from a mixture of beauty, golf course design, history and personal experiences.
This place is gorgeous. You don’t have to be a golfer to see that the clubhouse and views of the lake off to the west, the trees, the rolling hills, interesting holes all add up to a visual feast. The fact that it’s a moderately-priced public course — a Ramsey County course — makes all of that even more amazing.
2. Golf Course Design
The original layout, completed in 1929, was done by Paul Coates, the Chief Engineer of Ramsey County (!?!) How was this possible? Imagine that happening today. Hiring a county engineer to design a golf course of any kind, let alone one that would host PGA tournaments — impossible. According to a Golf Digest article, Coates, at his own expense, traveled to many of the great courses of his day for ideas. He also spent a lot of time with legendary golf course architect Donald Ross and picked his brain. I think Paul Coates should get some sort of award for rising to a challenge way above and beyond the call of duty — not to mention his expertise — and knocking this project out of the park.
There are so many interesting — even quirky — holes that it’s the kind of course you could play every day and not get tired of it. By the 1960s, Keller had become a lower-echelon course on the tour, lacking the length and amenities the PGA had become accustomed to, but it was still Minnesota’s chance to host a big-league golf event and we loved it.
No other golf course in Minnesota has the sheer amount of history as Keller (sorry, Hazeltine — you’re still too young and you only host a few major tournaments).
Keller began hosting a PGA tour stop, The St. Paul Open, in 1930 — its second year of operation. This tournament continued until 1968. Keller was also the site of 2 PGA Championships (again, !?!), a Western Open, 11 LPGA events and a U.S. Publinks Championship.
All of the great professionals of the ’30s through the ’60s played there. Back in the days when most of the top players played most of the tournaments, you had a chance to see them all at a relatively minor stop like St. Paul. One could get misty-eyed just reciting the names as you walk around the place — Hagen, Hogan, Snead, Sarazen, Nicklaus, Palmer — and on and on.
Keller certainly has its share of stories. I’m not sure how true they all are, but it’s fun to think about them.
Gene Sarazen supposedly once took 12 strokes on the short par-3 13th (now the 4th) hole, withdrew from the tournament and vowed never to return. That hole does have a funky big tree right in front of the green, but I’ve always liked it.
Notorious gangsters of the ’20s and ’30s often came to St. Paul to get away from the authorities in Chicago. Legend has it that John Dillinger quickly dropped his clubs and jumped a train next to the 3rd (now the 12th) hole when he saw FBI agents coming.
Roger told me the other day that “Champagne Tony” Lema wrote in his book, Golfer’s Gold, that in the evening after a drink or two, the guys would hit balls from the old 3rd tee across Highway 61 into Keller Lake.
The PGA tour has changed.
A few years after the PGA left, the LPGA arrived with the Patty Berg Classic, which ran from 1973 – 1980, named after our local legend who helped found the women’s tour and grew up a few blocks from where I live. It kept Keller alive as a professional venue for a while longer and provided more memories for those of us in the galleries. It was a great course for the women and it was sad when the tournament left for bigger and more modern suburban courses.
4. Personal Experiences
I don’t remember much about that first visit to Keller with my golf team other than Mr. Peterson’s advice and feeling really pumped up about playing a course that the pros played.
Later that summer I went with my friend Steve Erickson to watch the St. Paul Open (by then renamed the Minnesota Golf Classic). I remember walking up to the clubhouse when we got there and the first player I saw was Tom Weiskopf, one of the top pros of that era, standing at the top of the stairs that led down to the locker room. It was the first time I ever saw a pro golfer in person and it was exciting. In those days it was much easier to get close to the players and I remember standing right next to him for a few minutes as he talked with somebody. Then we walked a few yards over to the practice green and listened to Chi Chi Rodriguez cracking wise. It was all very cool.
Roger Buoen also has a lot of memories of watching St. Paul Open/Minnesota Golf Classic as a teen and we always talk about that when we play at Keller together. My favorite story of his also involves Tom Weiskopf. Roger was sitting next to a green when Weiskopf’s group came through. While he was waiting for his turn to putt, he walked over to Roger and made eye contact with him. Roger was, of course, thrilled that this star golfer was going to speak to him. “Can’t putt these shitty greens”, big Tom said. That cracks me up every time I think about it.
Roger and I have a memory for just about every hole at Keller, whether it’s from a St. Paul Open or from playing there in high school ourselves. I vividly recall missing a 6-foot putt on the 2nd hole of a playoff in the regional tournament in 1971, my senior year. That putt kept me out of the state tournament. It was the same green as Weiskopf’s remark to Roger. I guess I couldn’t putt those greens either, shitty or not.
I remember Dan Sikes driving the green on the 1st hole, a dogleg par 4, on his way to a victory in the final PGA tournament at Keller in 1968. He “cut the corner on #1” and it paid off for him.
On Friday, I heard Mr. Peterson’s voice, as usual, and aimed a little farther left. But the ball didn’t obey and headed right over the corner toward the green.
It ended up behind a tree and I made a bogey.
I’ve been thinking about the fact that Keller Golf Course was less than 40 years old when I played it for the first time, but it seemed old to us then. It’s now 81. It’s been a part of me for more than half its life and most of mine.
When the time comes, I hope somebody scatters some of my ashes around this place so I can become a tiny part of it.
I don’t exactily remember the first time I watched The Masters golf tournament, but it must have been 1961 or 1962. Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus dominated during my childhood — seven of the nine Masters tournaments between 1958 and 1966 were won by either Arnie or Jack. What I do remember is falling in love with the game of golf while I was still in elementary school — completely from watching on TV. Nobody I knew played golf. I was a golf nerd and probably a pretty weird little kid.
Watching the Masters is a guilty pleasure of mine. It’s hard to explain.
There are so many things NOT to like about the Masters. But every April when I see those drop-dead beautiful CBS opening shots of the 12th green, the 13th hole, the Clubhouse — I can’t look away. When they play highlight shots from past tournaments going all the way back to before my time, my eyes start to well up. Those memories are part of who I am and what I love to do. The cynic in me temporarily takes a backseat to the nostalgic golf nut.
Augusta National Golf Course was designed by legendary golfer Bobby Jones along with Alister McKensie. The course opened in 1933. A year later the first Masters (known until 1939 as the “Augusta National Invitation”) was won by Horton Smith. The Masters is one of the four major tournaments in the world and the only one that is played on the same course every year.
A lot of people don’t like the Masters. The tournament kept a lot of the feel and tradition of the old south alive for much of its history. Lee Elder was the first Black player in the tournament when he broke the color barrier in 1975. Fearing for his safety, he hired body guards and rented two houses in Augusta that year and moved back and forth frequently between them during tournament week.
Lee Trevino refused to play there for a couple of years in the ’70s. He said the course didn’t suit his game, but given his Mexican-American heritage, everyone knew there was more to it than that. After Jack Nicklaus talked him into returning to the tournament in 1972, Lee still refused to go into the clubhouse to change his shoes.
Until 1983, golfers were required to use Augusta National official caddies, who were, of course, African American. The Augusta National Golf Club admitted its first Black member in 1990 and still does not allow women to join. I love history, but studying injustice and prolonging it are two different things. The Masters seems to hold on to the wrong stuff from the past longer than it needs to.
Call me a hypocrite, but I still love the place. I’ve got too many great memories. Liking the Masters is kind of like having an old southern aunt who has a Black maid and treats her like in the old days. You still like old Aunt Augusta, even though you wouldn’t live that way yourself. And you hope that she’s learned a few things about people over the years, even though you wonder sometimes.
The Augusta National Club is full of rich, white, Christian, old men — many of whom have attitudes about people that differ from mine. Their prickishness is ever present, but that’s kind of what private golf clubs are all about anyway. I’ve always had a great deal of ambivalence about the game of golf — loving the game/being turned off by many of the people who play it. The Masters brings those feelings front and center. But once I get a glimpse of old Aunt Augusta, with all her faults, I get off my high horse for a weekend and enjoy my time with her.
So I’ll be taking a lot of peeks at tomorrow’s final round, even though it’s going to be a beautiful day here in Minnesota and it will be a shame to be indoors. Lee Westwood and Phil Mickelson (both players that I like) are at the top of the leader board. But I’ll be pulling for Freddie Couples. He’s in 5th place after 3 rounds. At 50 years of age, he’s got some of the same childhood memories I do.
Nearly a half- century after I became a fan, Arnie and Jack are showing their years, but they’re still around and still playing. They were the honorary “starters” this week. It made me smile to watch them. Here’s the video.
Those of us who are not members only see Augusta in the spring — and unless we’re lucky enough to get a ticket to the tournament, only on TV. For us, Augusta is always springtime, always beautiful. The azaleas and dogwoods are always blooming. The grass is always perfect and impossibly green. “Amen Corner” is still one of the truly gorgeous places on earth. There’s no place I’d rather be this weekend. Amen.