Postscript: Scotland 2011

From the moment the group arrived in Scotland on July 8th, we maintained a dizzying pace trekking to and fro across this beautiful country, thus the absence of regular news dispatches from St. Andrews. Our faithful bus driver, Andy, got us where we needed to be in comfort and style each day, even though we still couldn't understand a single word that came out of his mouth over the motorcoach intercom system.

Give Me Haggis, Or Give Me Death

Welcome Dinner - Dunvegan Hotel

As no golf trip could be complete without a little friendly competition, a team play event was created for the trip, which was dubbed The Haggis Cup in honor of that most indigenous of all Scottish dishes.

At Friday's cocktail reception and dinner at The Dunvegan Hotel, Matt Miller and Danny Lowry were named captains of the two teams, which were dubbed Team Old Tom Morris and Team Young Tom Morris, after the Scots father-son golf legends of the same names. As the draft unfolded, the teams were set as follows:

Old Toms            Young Toms
Chris Allen             Bob Birt
Brian Birt               Blewett Gardner
Frank Carter          Gil Hollander
Troy Good             Jeff Holshevnikoff
Mike Jackson         Tom Keffer
Danny Lowry          Matt Miller
Jim Milligan             Tim Unverzagt
Ty Underwood        Scott Wenning

It was agreed that the competition would be in five matches played over a three-day period, employing the Modified Stableford Scoring System (net off current handicaps) as the method of accumulating points, with the entire 50 pounds/player buy-in going to the winning team that amassed the most points at the conclusion of the five matches.

Day 1 - Carnoustie

Saturday dawned clear and bright in St. Andrews. Eight of the lads (Chris, Ty, Bob, Brian, Jeff, Blewett, Troy, and Danny) were successful getting on the Daily Ballot for The Old Course, allowing them to squeeze in a morning round on this most historic of all golf courses in the world. Their round completed, the group rejoined the balance of the party for our bus ride to Carnoustie, where four tee times awaited us on The Championship Course.

"Uh, oh."

As our first tee time approached at 2:10 PM, so did an ominous band of black storm clouds on the horizon. By the time Jeff put his tee in the ground to strike the first shot of the tournament, the skies began to open up, as did the umbrellas. As we made our way out on the front nine, caddies dutifully in tow, it quickly became clear to all combatants why the locals refer to the course as "Car-nasty," as the course quickly began to show its teeth.

Carnoustie - In The Spectacles Bunker

While the rain eventually relented, the course did not, and by the time we'd all cleared the Barry Burn on #18 (home of the infamous Jean van de Veld collapse in the 1999 Open Championship), there were many crooked numbers to be found on the scorecards. When the smoke had finally cleared (Tim was still catching up after the Heathrow incident), the Old Toms held an eight-point lead over the Young Toms. After several rounds of drinks were enjoyed in the bar, we all piled back on the bus where Andy delivered us safely back to St. Andrews for dinner and a short night of sleep before Day 2 of the competition.


Day 2 - Kingsbarns / St. Andrews Duke's Course
The bus pulled up on the corner at 7:00 AM on a clear Sunday morning for what would be the longest day of the trip, a morning round at Kingsbarns followed by an afternoon round at The Duke's Course at St. Andrews.


Kingbarns - #18 Green

An regional venue for Open Championship qualifiers, the boys quickly discovered why Kingsbarns is rated as one of the Top 100 courses in the world. The first group teed off at 8:00 AM, with caddies helping them navigate the course that many have called the "Pebble Beach of Scotland."

As the groups began to make their way back to the clubhouse some four hours later, the scores were tallied over drams of scotch and cold pints of Tennant's. When the captains had finally ceased their pencil whipping and all points had been properly accounted for, The Old Toms had padded their lead by four points, and were now leading The Haggis Cup by 12 heading into Round 3.

Kingbarns #7

Andy then announced it was time to leave for St. Andrews and herded us to the bus. He began mumbling something that at first sounded like a stock tip but was quickly translated by Blew as a confirmation that we'd be at The Duke's Course in 20 minutes. Built by Herb Kohler, The Dukes was the only course we'd play that would allow carts, which would prove a welcome respite for the many barking dogs on the bus. Carts and coolers loaded, we headed out to do battle.

At approximately 9:15 PM, some 13 hours after the first peg was put in the ground that morning at Kingsbarns, the foursome of Holshevnikoff, Wenning, Underwood, and Birt holed the final putt of the day in the gathering gloam, bringing Day 2 of the competition to an end. Despite some individually horrific performances (led by your editor), the Young Toms actually managed to gain five Stableford points on the afternoon matches, drawing within seven points of the leading Old Toms.

"I NEED MY OINTMENT..AND  I NEED IT NOW!"

Foot sore, weary, and hungry, Andy gathered us up and delivered us to the corner of Murray Place and North Street, where Chris was last seen ambling down the street to his guest house with the easy gait of a man carrying a safe on his back.

After a hearty dinner of ibuprofen, Icy Hot ointment, 12 year-old Scotch, and a Cuban cigar, Chris assured everyone that he would be raring to go the next day for rounds 4 and 5.

Day 3 - St. Andrews Jubilee Course/Crail
Monday dawned as a beautiful day....for ducks. With our first tee times set for 7:04 AM, Andy pulled up promptly at 6:30 AM for the short ride down the hill in the pouring rain to The Jubilee Course (est. 1897).

As the first foursome teed off on #1, the rain began coming down in sheets, with our merry band bearing more of a resemblance to actors in a fish sticks commercial rather than golfers. As the wind blew and the rain pelted down, the only thing missing from the scene was Carl Spackler looping for Bishop Pickering.

Umbrellas, rain hats, rain gloves, rain suits, snorkels, swim fins - we had it all. As I held my umbrella in front of me at a 45 degree angle to repel the wind and rain, it was clear that the elements were not going to keep anyone off the course, as the adjacent fairways were jammed with like-minded lunatics. Upon putting out on #1, a sudden gust of wind caused Chris's umbrella to blow out a spoke, causing the affected panel to start flapping against his chin. Cursing the manufacturer and the worsening weather, he bravely soldiered on.

"Rooster Tail" Hollander Putts Out

Each foursome pressed on through the storm, flogging and sloshing across the ground where golfers have flogged and sloshed for more than 200 years. A backward glance revealed a sea of umbrellas bobbing up and down like corks as they made their way up the fairways. As the rain intensified and water began to gather in lows spots on the greens, as we kept reminding ourselves that it was probably 112 degrees in Dallas, and that we were having fun. Which, in fact, we were.

As we persevered through the elements, Troy blocked his drive on #8 dead right of the fairway. As he trudged down the edge of the rough to begin what would likely be a futile search for his tee shot and a shot dropped due to a lost ball, a solitary figure mysteriously appeared out of the rain and mist some 200 yards ahead. Waving to our group, he proceeded to throw a ball back toward our fairway before disappearing back into the gorse as suddenly as he had appeared. Speechless, we looked at Chris's caddie, Davie, for a ruling, who growled "Aye, it's rub o' the green, laddie. Play 'er her as she lies!" Upon finding that the ball in question was his, Troy cackled with delight, while I trudged off into the gorse in an unsuccessful event to locate my own ball.

The Auld Grey Toon

Finally turning toward the clubhouse, the skies began to clear, and the sun actually came out for a brief period of time, allowing us to put away the umbrellas and take off our foul weather gear. As each group putted out on #18, Andy was there to ferry us back up the hill to our lodgings, where a hearty lunch, hot showers, and dry clothes awaited us.

As the captains tallied up the cards for their respective sides, it was found that the Young Toms had mounted a heroic charge through the elements that morning, and had taken the lead for the first time in the tournament, leading by five points. As we re-boarded the bus for the drive to Crail, Captains Lowry and Miller retreated to their respective war rooms to arrange their afternoon pairings for the final match that would decide The Haggis Cup.

Crail Balcomie - #14

The Balcomie Links at Crail (designed in 1895 by Old Tom Morris and Bob Dray) would prove to be one of the most challenging courses we would play, less a function of the course design than the manner in which the holes meandered and intersected with adjacent holes throughout the course.

"Caddies? You need a f*cking Indian guide and a compass to get around this place!" wailed Danny on #5, after he drilled an approach shot dead on the flag - to the #6 green. As the caddies led their charges around the course like seeing eye dogs, the teams battled on, captains and their teams exchanging point totals and cigars as they passed on adjacent fairways. Locating the next tee seemed harder than Chinese arithmetic.

"Glass? Who needs a glass?"

It soon became clear that the tide had turned once more. As the final group strode into the clubhouse at 9:15 PM under darkening Scottish skies, the tandem of Ty Underwood and Brian Birt had led the way in what turned out to be a wide margin of victory for The Old Toms in the 2011 Haggis Cup. The beer and scotch flowed freely, as did the anecdotes of that afternoon's round. Congratulations were extended to all, and the 800 pound purse was divvied up among the members of winning team.

Ever the sportsmen, Gil and Frank raised their bottles of scotch in offering up a toast on a match well played, while Gil pronounced the trip "freakin' oo-ah-some." As the good cheer, whiskey, and bonhomie continued to spread around the table, it was a clear that a good time had been had by all.


"Shut the f*ck up, Danny.".

 As the clubs were returned safely to the belly of the bus, the hat was passed for Andy. We thanked him for his good driving and good humor throughout the trip, and suggested that he might be well served to put the collection towards a Berlitz course in English.

We flopped in our seats as the bus sped toward St. Andrews, the two captains finally able to relax after the excruciating pressure of the previous three days. As each member of the group reveled in sharing their personal highlights of what had been the trip of a lifetime, plans were already in motion for a return trip to the birthplace of golf.

Postscript

Legends in Their Own Minds

With the Haggis Cup decided, we descended on The Dunvegan for a final night of food, drink, and camaraderie, as the group prepared to split up into two parties for Tuesday. Those that played The Old Course on Saturday opted for a replay at Kingsbarns, while the other eight were set to play their final round on The Old Course.

Tuesday turned out to be a beautiful and perfectly fitting day for the last round of the trip, as Messrs. Jackson, Carter, Milligan, and Wenning teed off precisely at 12:20 PM, followed by Hollander, Unverzagt, Miller, and Underwood, LLP. It was a great day for golf, with a slight breeze blowing in off the Eden Estuary, and while the quality of the golf was uniformly inconsistent, the experience was not. As those who have played The Old Course will attest, there is nothing else quite like it in the world.

"....Danny...wake me up when we get to DFW...zzzzz"

With Andy set to make two separate departures the following morning, the last evening was devoted to confirming flights, packing for the trip home, and enjoying a few final pints at what had become our favorite establishments in St. Andrews. After a year of planning, all remarked how long it took for the trip to arrive, and how quickly the time passed once we were together. Truly, time does fly when you're having fun....

"I'LL BE BACK...AS LONG AS I GET AN UPGRADE
TO FIRST CLASS NEXT TIME!"

For those who weren't able to join us, be assured that your names came up often. Environs that have echoed with the names of such golf luminaries as Hogan, Palmer, Nicklaus, Ballesteros, and Watson were repeatedly graced (soiled?!) with the names of Wilson, Francis, Lewis, Hardy, Douglass, et al. In summary, you were all there one way or another, whether in person or in spirit.

As nowhere is it written that a man is entitled to only one trip of a lifetime, it was agreed by all that a sequel to St. Andrews 2011 is very much in order. Whether in the form of a return trip to Scotland or a journey to nearby Ireland, the group is determined to make a repeat pilgrimage in the not too distant future, whether in 2012 or 2013.

As we say at LCCC, "there's always room for one more."  We hope you'll be there with us.

Day 1: Arrival

After safely navigating the Atlantic crossing on Thursday evening, all 16 members of our merry band - and, miraculously, 16 sets of golf clubs - arrived safely in Edinburgh on Friday.  While the flights were on relatively on-time and all baggage arrived with each respective passenger, there were a couple of minor snafus.

An Executive Platinum-level international traveler, Gil was disappointed to find that the American Airlines gate agent didn't greet him by name at DFW, nor did he provide him a courtesy upgrade to First Class. Forced to travel in the relative squalor of Business Class (where he was accompanied by Jeff, Mike, Tim, and your humble editor), Gil tried to drown his sorrows in a glass of pre-departure champagne, which he promptly spat out on the bulkhead.

"What the f*ck is this swill!, Asti Spumonte!?", wailed Gil. "I wouldn't wash my ass with this stuff, let alone drink it. In First Class, they serve the real stuff."  He then drank two Heinekens, popped an Ambien, pulled on his sleeping mask, and snoozed like a baby all the way to London, sucking his thumb in blissful contentment.

Meanwhile, in Seat 11B, Tim was confronting his own demons, the first in the form of a Portuguese five-year old in the adjacent aisle seat whose behavior suggested he might be possessed by demons (which his mother attempted to quell with what appeared to be the world's largest pacifier), and the second a raging nicotine fit that would reach almost unbearable proportions upon arrival at London Heathrow Airport.

After eight hours on the plane without a cigarette, Tim found that Heathrow is a smoke-free airport, meaning he would need to wait until we arrived in Edinburgh some four hours later to light up. Pacing feverishly up and down the terminal while cursing the British, Jeff managed to keep Tim from suffering a nervous breakdown by pulling out his iPad and firing up a cigarette lighter app, where the flame magically appeared from an ersatz Zippo with the brush of a finger. Tim proceeded to curl up in a fetal position in a remote corner of the terminal with the iPad, flipping the flame on and off maniacally while we waited to board the flight to Edinburgh.  Safely on the ground in Scotland, Tim made a mad dash to the curb, lighting four cigarettes in rapid succession until his equilibrium had been reestablished.

We were then greeted by our driver, Andy, who spoke in a near unitellligible, rapid-fire Scottish brogue that was evocative of a man speaking with marbles in his mouth.  Once in St. Andrews, we disembarked from the bus, checked into our lodgings, and proceeded to the nearby Dunvegan Hotel for a welcome dinner. After a few cocktails and a hearty meal, we emptied out into the streets of St. Andrews at 9:45 PM, where some repaired to the pubs while others called it a night after a long night and day of traveling.

All in all, a great start to the trip.

A Gathering Storm

It was nearly one year ago that a plan was born in the 19th Hole of LCCC. Resonating with all the force of a loud fart off a wooden church pew, it was a plan of such audacity that it succeeded in bringing a sudden hush over the large faction of our membership assembled in the 19th Hole, watching the final moments of the 150th Open Championship from St. Andrews.

"It's not the Carpenter Cup, but it'll do"

As Louis Oosthuizen's final putt dropped on 18, capping an unexpected runaway victory that earned him the coveted Claret Jug, a lone voice with a distinct Tony Soprano accent was heard to say: "Hey, we ought to go there some time."

Stunned, all heads turned in unison toward Gil Hollander, who was spooning a Twosome Salad into his jaws with all the precision of a man tossing mulch into a wheelbarrow in high winds. Pausing momentarily to wipe a bit of chicken salad from the ceiling fan above his head, Gil said "I'm serious. We should go. It'd be freakin' oo-ah-some."

Editor and Son - Swilcan Bridge, 2006

Faster than you could pronounce "Oosthuizen" (Note - as this story went to press, Mike Withrow is still trying), an acclamation spread like wildfire through the 19th Hole, with man after man pronouncing himself ready, willing, and able (pending permission from his wife) to make the trip to the birthplace of golf.  Having made the journey for the first time in 2006, your humble editor offered to take on the job of coordinating the trip, with the initial cattle call going out that night to all LCCC members interested in getting on the list.

Dates were soon identified, tour operators vetted, and pro forma financials subsequently confirmed. When a U.K.-based tour operator was selected in late August and initial deposits requested the following month, a total of 20 hardy souls had signed on to make the trip to Scotland, dates set for July -13, 2011.  The group subsequently and unfortunately shrunk by four due to unanticipated conflicts by:

• Rick Smith (wedding)
• Wes Hameline ("He doesn't look good in a kilt. I had to put my foot down." - Elizabeth Hameline)
• Todd Wilson (new job with Constellation Energy; overseeing construction of world's first Vespa-powered nuclear plant in Waxahatchie).
• Mike "Button" Bowers, whose abstract: "Personal Injury Lawyers: Objects Aren't The Only Things That Are Closer Than They Appear" was selected as the keynote address to for the 2011 American Ambulance Driver's convention in Bossier City, LA.

And so it was after nearly a full year of planning, the august group of Chris Allen, Frank Carter, Blewett Gardner, Troy Good, Gil Hollander, Jeff Holshevnikoff, Mike Jackson, Tom Keffer, Danny Lowry, Matt Miller, Jim Milligan, Ty Underwood, Tim Unverzagt, and Scott Wenning will depart this Thursday for The Old Sod (not to be confused with Bob Dray's yard), accompanied by the father and son tandem of Bob and Brian Birt.

"Where's Chris A-a-a-a-a-llen?"

The group will arrive in Edinburgh, Scotland on Friday, where we'll be whisked to our accommodations off the 18th fairway of The Old Course in St. Andrews. From this base of operations, we'll mount our assault on some of the most historic courses in Scotland (including Carnoustie, Kingsbarns, Crail, and The Old Course), while also terrorizing pub owners, restaurateurs and sheep (Chris Allen) by night.

Tune into THR each day for the highlight's of that day's events (which may include some golf), delivered via the miracle of the worldwide web direct to your PC!

Separated at Birth

In this week's mail bag, Tim Unverzagt shares his belief that somewhere in this world, we all have a "twin" with whom we are not related, yet share a striking resemblance.

In this case, the subject is Tom Francis, whom the editor of The Hosel Rocket recently compared to the late Roy Orbison, both for his preference for wearing oversized sunglasses and the fact that he, too, can sometimes be found on the wrong side of the sod.

"I disagree, dontcha know. Tom looks more like that blind country singer, Ronnie Milsap. Plus, his putting matches Ronnie's, too!"