by Paul deVere
I have decided to become a golf legend. Since my game has little improved from the time I first struck a golf ball with a golf club (7-iron) over three decades ago, I feel this is the appropriate next step in my golfing ascendancy. “Legend” also just feels good and it is about time I felt good about this game.
I do understand the laurels I am bequeathing myself. A legend achieves greatness through extraordinary feats. Bobby Jones, who left us with Augusta National and an extraordinary and exemplary amateur career, is a golf legend. There are legends like Ken Venturi and Gary Player and Jack Nicklaus. There are instructors who became legends like Harvey Penik. And there is that fellow who made golf accessible to everyone and created his own army, Arnold Palmer. He’s a legend.
Then there’s me, the author of the 4-putt. The field of 3-putters is crowded with a bunch of amateurs. But when it comes to 4-putting, especially within 24 inches of the hole, I am legendary.
After a thorough study of the qualifications and back stories one must have to qualify as a golf legend I believe my game and my history fit the bill. For example, my personal instructor (who will remain anonymous) will never let me forget my “legendary” drive that landed sixteen yards behind the tee box during one of our “legendary” games. “Never, ever have seen that!” my anonymous pro reminds all who will listen. And, of course, all do listen. That’s how legends are made.
Golf legends need to start somewhere. I suppose mine should begin at the beginning of my golf career. Unlike so many of my friends who happened to be golf professionals and scratch amateurs and began their golf careers in their mothers’ womb, I did not stand on the first tee of a golf course with the intention of actually hitting a golf ball until I was 43 years old. (Less than a year later, my ex-brother-in-law, a golf professional who played on the PGA Tour and was giving me a lesson, asked me why I gave up tennis. Seriously?)
My first official game as a golf legend was at Oyster Reef Golf Club on Hilton Head Island. I had gone through three instructors in six months by the time I had the nerve to step up to that first tee. This Rees Jones-designed course (Mr. Jones is, of course, a legendary architect) is one of his early designs and very friendly. The first tee is a pretty straight and true par 4 with very little trouble along the way. Sand bunkers leave the green reasonably protected, but nothing drastically so. I had a playing lesson with my then pro. (Last I heard he is selling used cars and doing pretty well.)
No one, he assured me, had ever approached the green so creatively. I actually could not see the green as I prepared my eighth shot. The homeowner’s car in the driveway of the lawn I was trying to hit out of was blocking the view. So was the homeowner’s house. So was the homeowner who was coming toward me rather quickly and whom, I assumed, was going to give me advice on my club selection since he was waving one rather erratically as he ran. I believe it was an 8 iron.
After that first round I made two discoveries. One, it would be a waste of money for me to ever pay for a round of golf (considering my already legendary abilities) and two, I discovered if I wrote about the game I didn’t have to pay. A career was born.
Hence, I have had the privilege to play some of the finest “legendary” courses in the world. And after every round, the head pro simply shakes his head and says “unbelievable”. I assume this always happens to legendary golfers. You learn to live with it.
I will admit becoming a golf legend has had its ups and downs and is much more difficult than I first envisioned. My road to becoming legendary includes:
*First golfer to hit same alligator twice on different holes in same game.
*First golfer to have their golf ball not selected in 78 consecutive captain’s choice charity tournaments, a USGA record. (Prior record was 77 tournaments, also mine.)
* First golfer to hit three birds on three consecutive holes in a single game. (Note: none of the birds perished or are considered endangered. The birds were a cattle egret, a dove and a Canada goose.)
Modesty keeps me from adding to my lengthy legendary list, like that six putt at Pebble Beach or almost reaching a triple digit score on a nine-holer in Ridgeland, South Carolina. Like other golf legends I’ll let my record speak for itself. And like other golf legends I’m considering hosting a tournament to honor my three plus decades of playing the game. I’m trying to nail down a sponsor, contacting all the titans of industry I know. So far I’ve only got three drink orders. I’m open to suggestions.
First appeared in Golf World, Copyright 2017, Paul deVere