Free time was a luxury I did not enjoy in my youth. My father did not believe in it.
At a young age I was diagnosed as being hyperactive. Today there is an entire alphabet soup of disorders they would label me with. But back then “hyperactive” got one prescribed Ritalin and my father would have none of that. While Pops ended up running a very successful construction company, he started out as a teacher and football coach. His answer to everything was structured time. So I was about to get a childhood full of that.
One of my father’s favorite ways to structure time was, among many other things, Sports. The longest season they could find was Ice Hockey. I excelled at it and had a lot of fun. But Hockey didn’t happen in the Summer, so work and other things filled every opportunity for freedom. One of those other things ended up being caddying at my father’s very Bougie Country Club. I had spent some time around the pool there and tried the youth golf program but never got the Vibe. This was a Big Money exclusive club that I just never felt I belonged at. How putting me in with the caddies would improve that was anybody’s guess, but it was happening.
The first day I got dropped in the Caddyshack I was mortified. There was no one there my age and the people who were there were seasoned pros or young adults not from my demographics. It was a rough start.
Eventually, I found somewhat of a groove. Although I was generally one of the last people picked for late morning outings I did start to get a couple regulars. One of those continues to stand out in my memories for a day we shared together.
OB was the name the gentleman went by. His custom golf balls were stamped “beetlejaw”. I never got that story, but we always had good rounds together. I knew next to nothing about caddying, which showed in my Tip take, but OB always helped me out and gave me gentle direction. Dude even helped me carry doubles one day when I got in over my head with a foursome he was playing with. All of his kindness perplexed most at the club. According to other members, OB was one of the biggest, loudest, most obnoxious individuals at the Club. But I liked the guy, he always treated me kindly and went out of his way to pick me if I was in that day. I genuinely enjoyed our outings together and I didn’t enjoy much about that experience.
One beautiful August day he chose me again. I don’t recall anything special other than how relaxed I’d felt to get “The Cool Guy” again. No Hole in Ones or any PGA level shots that day, but walking off at the 18th green turned historic very quickly.
As I was wiping down the last of his clubs and organizing what I could in his bag we both saw a commotion happening around the pool and someone had brought out a small Black and White TV. OB said, “Something is happening over there, put my bags up and let’s go see what it is. I’ll buy you a Coke and sign your caddy slip.”
So we wander over by the pool, he orders my Coke and I start to hand him my card, when who trots out on the TV but President Nixon at the start of his now famous resignation speech. We’d just had an idyllic walk around a beautiful golf course with a very uneventful round and there I was having a frosty Coke, watching an historic event, live on TV. We stood there and listened intently. The pool area, usually teeming with small screaming children and half popped soccer/tennis/golf moms was eerily silent. When it was over, there was a collective sigh from the adults and the kids went back to screaming on cue. OB just looked at me and said, “you’ll remember this for the rest of your life, Presidents don’t resign every day. Thanks for the walk, enjoy your Coke” … and then he slipped me a $5 tip as he walked away.