The CaddyShack #7 - You wouldn't believe it
A new written series for 2024, by Pat's Ten Pence.
In July 2023, I began sharing stories I had collected while caddying - the best job in the world.
As we kick off 2024, I intend to share a lot more, having carefully documented every golfer, caddie and local I encountered during an incredible summer season. Every Sunday I will post the next phase of the journey.
Maybe one day, these Sunday Substack entries will morph into a book. Maybe they already have. Depending on the success of these short extracts, you could be reading first editions of a future must-read for caddies everywhere. We must have a dream, after all.
I wrote this entry for the clients that didn’t quite make it into the ‘Memorable Guests’ chapter in the future book. This was more just weird memories that make you laugh, and almost had to be there to believe it. All this happened in one summer season, and I’m still incredulous at some of the stuff I’ve got in the mighty notebook.
“Hey! Connor. Nice to meet you”
One stand-out story from my first month caddying was using sign language to make a par up the first hole.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t late, I just didn’t speak to him until then. This guy was mulling around on the tee box as the caddies and players were pairing off, guest services guys doing a grand job as always. As people began teeing off I was stood in the middle of the dwindling group, the lone Brit in a foreign land, still a new guy but gaining juice as a reasonably good caddie.
I was instructed to stand next to a guy who looked a bit like Paul Hollywood with a phone to his ear, as it had been for 10 minutes. He glanced at me apologetically, acknowledging his thanks as I slung his bag on the shoulder, while he just couldn’t shake the person at the other end of the line. It was 9.31am, and we had to tee off as the marshall was growling.
A straightaway par five awaits on the first tee at Cabot Cliffs. I pulled the bright green head cover off his driver and pointed generally at the fairway. Don’t know the guys name still, and I scoured his bag for clues. There were none. Chucked him a Pro V1 with no markings on it, he set the phone down, quick swing, not even looking at where it went, back on the call.
I took his driver and was still pretty stunned that we hadn’t been introduced. I set off making small talk in the group and my mystery man loitered out the back. His mates shook their head and laughed. We walked up the left-hand side of the first fairway – and I looked around incredulously as he continued to talk for 250 yards. We got to the ball, still had 300 yards to the green, so he chucked the phone on the ground after an eyebrows and finger-pointing conversation with yours truly, I pointed to a hybrid so he swung it, picked the phone up and resumed the conversation.
After two shots on the par five, I managed to signal and mouth ‘ONE, FIVE, FIVE’. We had 163 yards for our third shot into 1, but playing 155 because short is fine, and long was dead. I floated my hand towards the 7 iron. Unspoken, he shook his head, phone to ear. I floated towards the 8, like a TV host unveiling what’s in the mystery box. The unknown player nodded, unleashing a smooth swing to the heart of the green. Thumbs up, phone to ear, off we go. As I lined up the 25-foot birdie putt; I still didn’t actually know this guy’s name yet.
As the rest of the group gathers on the first green, it’s a good time to check some names. there could be four golfers and four caddies, so potentially seven new names for you. Considering my guy was still an unknown entity, I took this chance to introduce myself to others nearby while getting the read. The birdie putt was downhill, which I demonstrated by pushing my two hands down and away from me, and right to left – which is easy to indicate.
At this time he finally turned the phone off, before rolling the ball down to the holeside and hitting it away, giving himself the par and relieved to wrap up the call. I met him at his bag and he zoned back in to the real world, suddenly aware of the salty air, steady breeze, fescue grass, and a British guy two feet away in fresh pressed white coveralls.
He turned to me, shook hands and said ‘Hey! Connor. Nice to meet you’. And off we went.
Commitment to the cause.
In August, the demand for caddies stepped up again. I went out for a morning loop at 9.48am, finished around 2.20pm, and asked if there were any loops available in the afternoon. I was told no. Content with my day’s work, I set off on the 20 minute drive home.
I got home at 2.47pm, and the phone rang five minutes later.
“Fore caddie loop at Links, right now if you can?”
This stuff happened all the time. It’s no-one’s fault, guys book the trip a year in advance, don’t think they’ll need a caddie, get a bit rusty the week before the trip and don’t fancy carrying their bag 6 miles, or risk losing to their buddies. People ask for caddies last minute, loops get cancelled, crossed over, booked and re-booked. Adaptability, remember?
A fore caddie means you’re caddying for a whole group, very much a tour guide but I always tried my hardest to give as many people in the group advice as possible, skipping between players.
“I’m 20 minutes away, but sure” I said.
“Perfect”
My brilliant partner Megan had work to get to - as soon as my golfers finished at 8pm she’d be there to meet them with a beaming smile and a whiskey - so we spun the trusty 2005 Ford Escape around and set off back. They knew I’d be slightly late, but I wanted to get there at a decent time.
Now, when Rory was late for his Ryder Cup tee time, he got a police convoy to Medinah Country Club. I did not have this luxury, but wasn’t hanging about.
Bearing in mind we live in the middle of nowhere in Cape Breton Island. The speed limit is 80km/h even though the roads are wide and traffic is non-existent. We eased over a hill at about 110km/h, and the first police car I’d ever seen in the town gurgled into action and was suddenly in the rear view. Oh dear.
In my attempt to make the tee time, I had royally screwed up. I pulled over, praying the cop was a golfer, and explained how I was late for a caddie loop, Megan was becoming late for work – and how sorry I was.
He listened to the story, ran the checks, and thankfully sent us on our way. Although I was now later than I intended, I drove away not daring to go above 75 for the remaining ten minutes. I parked up, still kind of amazed we’d got away with a slap on the wrist, hopped straight into the golf cart ready to transport me out onto the Links.
Quick pocket tap, rangefinder, spare battery, cereal bar, water, tees, towel, golf ball. All good. We scoured the first two holes and there was no sign of any golfers.
We made a beeline for the 3rd tee to meet my group just as they were about to tee off on 3. A father and his two sons from Pennsylvania turned to greet me, where I jumped out, shook hands, gave a decent line off the tee and told them what had just happened. Straight back to it. We had a great afternoon together, and I now had a decent first tee story for the next few rounds!
August 4th – two loops, 30,000 steps, made a few bucks, and a quick skirmish with the local law enforcement.
At the end of each entry – I’ll share three memorable statistics in a random summer week – taken from my notes gathered while caddying.
Week Ending September 11th 2023:
- Club throws (!): 1 - don’t often see this, started with a gentle putter toss and then we had a legit 10+ foot wedge throw. Not a full arm but enough to put me out of my way. Don’t be that guy.
- Holes played: 27 - good week for the kid when we get three nine-hole ventures in after work.
-Highest score I looped for: 98. Felt for the guy, just donating balls off the tee. We changed from driver to 3 wood to 4 iron but you can’t defend against the topped tee ball.
Stay tuned, see you next Sunday.
Patrick Brennan
18th February 2024