I had September 25th circled on the itinerary because it was going to be a much needed day off for Sendell, Sr. As I have mentioned many times, I probably hadn’t walked 18 holes more than a handful of times in the last 5 years because Tehama is built on top of a mountain. Unless you have experience climbing El Capitan, Tehama on foot is not recommended. But this trip has required me to walk 20/22 rounds in the last 25 days. Fortunately, the old bones haven’t broken yet.
After finishing Baltusrol Upper, we verbally committed to reaching our next destination in two shots. We were headed to The Cradle of American Golf, Pinehurst Resort. With 10 courses, a par 3 course, a massive putting facility, and the quaint village nearby, Pinehurst checks all the boxes for golf aficionados. Even the USGA feels the vibe as they have chosen this remote spot in North Carolina for their Headquarters. This drive to Pinehurst was going to be a long round and Fredericksburg, Virginia was identified as the halfway house. When the boys got wind that we would be pulling in around noon, the conversation quickly shifted to the possibility of an unscheduled afternoon round. Since I am incapable of saying no to my sons for anything as long as it’s legal, I started working the phones.
My longtime friend, Greg, had us covered at his club if we got into a jam, but the chef that cooked up our Pinehurst rotation was able to book us at course 5 that afternoon. We grabbed a quick lunch with James the First I and James the Second at The Deuce. James the First would be our fourth for this part of the trip and he is NOT a fourth wheel. Between locking up our lakeside accommodations and having an encyclopedia of Pinehurst knowledge, he had a dozen Krispy Kreme’s ready for our arrival. I helped him secure employment at Desert Mountain a couple years back and nothing says thank you like a box of glazed fat pills.
After a quick warm up, the legs felt heavy. Fortunately, course 5 is across the street and my expert use of the Jedi Mind trick had the boys loading up a cart. But then they turned the tables and I found myself on the blue tees. The first was a dogleg right of 405 yards. I felt like I leaned into my drive and hit a perfect power cut right up the middle. But when I reached my ball, it became apparent that my power cut had the power cut because I had 170 uphill left to the hole. Even though I was an English Major, I can do basic math. 405 minus 170 equals 235 and I was concerned.
I pumped one 252 on #2, a whopping 265 on #3, and 251 on #4. By the time I reached #6, the electrical grid was flickering and my drives were getting shorter and shorter. At the 8th, I mashed one 219 and at the 10th I reached back for 222. I had no juice and the boys were starting to notice. After another bunt at the Par five 12th that traveled about 225, my oldest son pulled up next to the ball and raised his left eyebrow. This is Brad’s way of saying WTF?
But I had no answers. I continued to give a maximum effort with minimal results. We had made an enormous drive to get to Pinehurst but I was playing course #5 about 225 yards at a time. And while my vehicle was a horse and buggy, the boys were flooring their Ferrari’s out there 300 yards. It was very emasculating. The 16th was the low point. A par 5 of 497 yards, I thought I would loosen up the girdle and give myself a chance at reaching in two. I centered one and I felt my manhood creeping back. But when I arrived at the ball, I had 275 left and had to hit 5-iron, gap wedge to get home. The good news is I rolled the rock well, tallying 26 putts on familiar Bermuda grass, and signed for a solid 74. But the future was now the present and I didn’t like it.
After a great southern meal at The Holly Inn with my boys and James the First, I finished our laundry and secured a refreshing, circular fan-aided night’s sleep. I am hopeful for a better distance performance today at the renowned Course 4.
