After my putting performance at Plainfield and benching the Jailbird, there was only one thing left to do: eat myself into oblivion. I have managed to keep most vices at bay during my life, but consuming copious amounts of calories is not one of them. Food is the crutch I lean on when I’m wobbly, so when my boys alerted me to a Cheesecake Factory a flip wedge away, it was time to do some core work. I’ve been on the road now for nearly 30 days and I’ve not been eating clean. Veggies have been optional and Dairy Queen Blizzards have been a daily staple. Fortunately, I’ve walked 22 of the 25 rounds I’ve played, so the pants still fit.
After a night of fever dreams caused by a reckless combination of Angry Orchard cider, meatball sliders, linguini, and strawberry shortcake, I was ready to get back to business. As we’ve traversed through New York, New Jersey and Philly, I have managed to choose hotels that sit right on the edge of every busy highway and under the flight path of every busy airport. The only place with more noise and traffic is my brain when I’m standing over the putter. Our time in the northeast was ending today and there could not possibly be a better finale than touring the Upper course at Baltusrol with Balty Bob. The Upper course features trickier greens and more influence from the mountain on the edge of the property than the Lower.
We arrived a little early and Bob was already in full flow around the clubhouse. No one walks past the big man without saying hello or sharing a laugh about some misdeed from the night before. And sometimes the planets line up because we had Marian and Spencer on bags. Spencer had played golf for a living until a torn labrum in his hip derailed his train. He took the boys. Marian, a quick witted Romanian with 27 years at Baltusrol, had me and BB. When I opened with a simple question to Marian about how long he had been here, he said “6:30am. I usually go first and don’t do 6 hours of bench time.” My immediate thought? I like this dude. My second thought? I’m going to show one of the most senior caddies at Baltusrol more than 40 putts.
Just like the last few rounds, I had my short swing dialed in. Bob even gave me a confidence boost by encouraging me to hit first off the early holes because he likes “the way I finish my swing.” I think my finish looks full because my backswing is so freaking short, but whatever. I was getting to the greens in regulation or better over the first seven holes, but three putted the first, the fourth, the fifth and the seventh to reach five over par. I’d also jabbed two birdie putts inside of 8 feet. This unfortunate display earned me a stern lecture from Marian. I tried to interrupt him as he was giving me the business and he simply said, “I am talking now.” This man demanded respect and not many people can shut my pie hole as quickly as he did. He wrapped up his masterclass by telling me to “respect the mountain–don’t fear the mountain.” I felt like I was in the presence of a sherpa that had ascended Everest dozens of times. But my personal Everest at this point was simply securing a two putt.
After a good tee shot and a solid three-wood, I was in the right hand bunker at the par 5 eighth. I splashed it out to 4 feet and hit such a bad putt my sons were giving me stroke advice. Jack tried to give me the 6 foot come-backer, which I love him for, but I’d hit maximum frustration. I marked it, settled myself, and rolled it in. This was the moment that I desperately needed. I flashed a look over at Marian and he gave me a nod of approval. It was time to get busy.
Although I squandered a couple of birdie looks at the 10th and 12th, I canned a 20 foot par putt at the 13th and birdied the short 14th. After a hiccup at the 15th, a burned edge at the 16th, and a solid 2 putt at the 17th, I was comfortably off 80 watch. I hit a seed up the speed slot on the left at the last. After a flighted 7 iron to 25 feet, I finally listened to Marian. “Don’t fear the mountain–respect the mountain.” I poured it in for a respectable 76.
Huge thanks for Baltusrol Bob, Marian, and Spencer for giving us such a fitting end to a wonderful tour around the greatest golf courses in the Northeast. I could not possibly rate them all because at the end of the day, it’s about more than the golf course you play. It’s about the people you share the walk with.
We loaded the minivan and pointed it south towards Pinehurst. As this moment, we are in Frederickburg, Virginia about four hours from our destination. Today was scheduled as a day off, but the Sendell boys don’t take days off. We will be adding a golf course to the itinerary from the Interstate. Stay tuned.
