I was reminded of two of my favorite golf stories on my recent trip to Austin. I figured they were worth sharing. One happened to me, and one is a story from my dad. Remarkably, both happened on the same hole. While my father skews towards hyperbole, I’ve heard him tell this story a number of times, and the details never change. This is in stark contrast to his other favorite golf story, which involves me making off with the Claret Jug when Justin Leonard brought it to our home club. Those details move from me discussing making off with it (true!) to him catching me in the parking lot loading it into my trunk (not true!). Anyways, on to my two favorite golf stories.
Number 8 is a short part 4 at the Valley Club in Hailey, Idaho. I spent a summer in Idaho golfing with my mom after graduating college and played it almost 100 times that summer. The course was designed to be a neighborhood, and there are some large houses throughout the course. A local artist also designed and built large metal animal statues, and a number of them found their way to backyards on the course. #8 features a large moose. The hole itself plays about 300 yards with water all down the right side, and trouble long. The smart play is to move the ball as far forward as you can without taking on the hazard. It’s drivable in the right conditions, but the risk reward is not there.
My mom and I tended to walk the course, and play when it was not super busy. We’d occasionally catch up to foursomes, and they’d usually let us through. On this particular day, we caught a slow moving group on the par 3 sixth. They did not let us play the 7th hole, where I had to wait for them to clear the green for my second shot. They were aware we were behind us, they just did not care. Frustrating, but fine.
We got to the 8th hole, and one of them had a new fangled remote control push cart. It did not help his pace of play. He was busy talking on his cell phone, and blissfully unaware that his cart had started off on it’s own, headed towards the lake on the right. It had about 40 yards to go when we noticed it. We need to take a brief detour here to describe my parents.
My dad is 6’10” and was a college athlete. He spent his career as a salesman, and has always been naturally good at getting people's attention. Generally, he works hard not to be noticed. My mom is 5’4”. She is the polar opposite of my father beyond just height. She has worked her whole life to get noticed, and my mom tends to excel at anything she sets her mind to. She had mastered the piercing whistle, and she was ready to use it to get the attention of the people ahead of us.
I had other plans. I stopped her from whistling. They’d been actively ignoring us for two holes. The guy was on an important business call. The cart was about 30 yards away from the water, trundling ever forward. He noticed. He dropped his phone. He grabbed his remote. The cart kept rolling. It was 20 yards away from the water when he realized the remote wasn’t going to save it. He started sprinting.
He was gaining on the cart, and was maybe 5 feet away when it drove off the edge. His buddies were laughing at him. They let us play through.
My dad’s buddy was playing in a member event with three people he didn’t know. They got to the 8th hole, and Steve started lamenting to his cart mate about the moose on the hole. “What a stupid thing to waste money on”, he said. “I hate looking at that thing every time I play this hole”, he continued. Finally his cart mate added his opinion.
“I’m sorry to hear that. That’s my house.”
Steve mumbled an apology and fled the cart.
Embarrassed, Steve approached another playing partner.
“Oh man, I really just stuck my foot in my mouth. I was just telling that guy how much I hate that moose, and apparently it’s in his yard. I feel bad, but I have to say, I just hate that stupid moose.”
“I’m sorry to hear that”, came the reply. “I’m the artist who made it.”
My dad says Steve did not talk for the rest of the round.
It’s my favorite golf story.