Walk Ons, Part Deux

Yesterday I wrote about an event that happened almost ten years ago that still makes me smile. It was about someone who lives in Japan and we had not seen or heard from Sushi since her graduation in 2002 from the same school my daughter attended, Oldfields School. Amazingly, last night Mrs. Commish received a Facebook email from Sushi, the same day that I wrote about an incident that she is probably unaware of. How do you explain a coincidence like that?
Anyway let's continue with my discussion about Walk Ons.
If you play golf regularly you will be placed by the starter with many different players to complete a foursome and keep the pace of play moving. For the most part I think golfers, because of inherent insecurities about golfing abilities, would rather go off as a single and just play their game and not feel like they are being judged. Usually this feeling lasts less than the first hole. You tee off, you whiff your second shot, and you see that the guys you are playing with are no better than you. Or, if they are, they were once where you are now and have some sort of sympathy for your plight. Often by the second or third hole you have sized each other up and have a kidding/small talk patois going between everyone. This makes for a comfortable and enjoyable round of golf but for the most part no one remembers anything about the people you played with. There are, however, some that remain as a permanent part of your memory.
Like the time Mt. Pleasant Golf Course instituted fivesomes. This meant that every week we had a walk on with us. That year The Snowman missed a lot of rounds and for a few weeks in a row we played with a dad and his son. The kid was a little wild but at about 12 years old he really could outdistance any of us. I wonder if he is playing for a college team these days.
Another time we were teamed up with an elderly gent who got maybe 150 yards off the first tee, but right down the middle. The first hole is a par 5 about 560 yards, basically straight. We were at least 100 yards ahead of him but scattered to the left and right and thinking that this was going to be a long round. The old fellow hits his next shot barely past our tee shot and we pound our shots in a display of army golf (left-right-left, etc.). The old guy hits his third and is still 140 yards from the green. Hits his fourth up to the green and one putts for par. Meanwhile we are four in the bunker, five in the other bunker, six to the fringe, seven close, miss the putt for snow and record a nine. See, we were right, it looks like it will be a long round. I don't remember much else about this guy because he rode a cart and we all walked, but it was amazing to watch him not be long enough to reach any greens in regulation but play such a beautifully controlled game that I doubt if he was more than 3 or four over par for the nine holes. As it turned out we didn't hold him up too much because in the BGA we might play golf badly; but, we play golf quickly. Eighty-five year-old guy who we outdrive by a mile and he calmly beats all of us by 7 or 8 strokes a side.
Then there was the guy that was matched up with us another time. We went through the meeting and greeting and told him we weren't very good but we were quick, etc., etc. He says it doesn't matter to him because he's just out for a relaxed round. From the whites we hit our usual left side and right side shots, not too far but, we are sure they will be findable. This Walk On guy pounds his from the tips right down the middle a beautiful, PGA-quality shot. We search to find our balls and get ready to hit, look around the trees to make sure it's clear and this new guy is nowhere to be seen. He evidently marched out to his ball, hit his second to the green and continued his "relaxing" round without benefit of our company. Was it something we said? We literally didn't see him the rest of the day. One shot and he knew he didn't belong in the BGA!
Then there was the fellow with the putting "ticks." Every putt, and I mean even 10-inchers, he would line up, take exactly 11 practice strokes and then miss his putt. Don't miss playing with him.
There was a cute girl that we enjoyed playing with even though it was mildly embarrassing to be beaten so badly by her. But after the old guy we were getting used to everyone beating us. Never saw her again, either.
One hot shot stockbroker from New York was moving to the area and walked on with us at Mt. Pleasant (a nice muni in Baltimore). He actually was a very pleasant guy once you got past his "big person" routine. By the time we reached the sixth hole he asked us very seriously about which country club he should join. I had to tell him that I was sadly disappointed in his judge of character because we certainly aren't the ones he should be asking about country clubs. Maybe he saw something more in us then we do ourselves. Nah!
There are also the guys you hook up with that become regular playing partners. At Longview we used to walk on before the official first tee time and over time we would be teamed up with a fellow named Dean Johnson and got to be golf friends. For several years we played routinely together every Sunday morning until he got married and changed his routine.
I've was teamed up once with a guy that looked familiar and it turned out that we were in elementary school together 40 years before. Another time I played with someone who had a daughter that was a friend of my daughter. They had been in the same class for several years in Montessori. After talking a while we found out that we had met twelve of fourteen years prior.
Walk Ons. Mostly unrememberable but often worth your time. Hope you have a few Walk On memories of your own.

Walk Ons and "Pago Pa"

(We heard from "Sushi" in Japan. Click here to see her remarks.)

Walking on at a golf course can be one of the more stomach-wrenching things we can do. Think of that first tee shot of a normal round and then ramp up your nerves 10-fold. Here you are meeting up with three strangers and they have nothing better to do at that moment than to watch your tee shot on #1 and judge you, your athleticism, the state of your game, and whether or not you have any "ticks," those peculiar waggles and movements that drive others crazy. (Ticks: think of Sergio Garcia and his regripping problem or Jim Furyk and his peculiar habit of starting to putt and then backing away.) All of this aside, some of my most lasting memories involve either walking on or having someone else join us for a round.

One time in the late '90's I walked on at Longview Golf Course. By this time I was used to doing it and didn't feel any particular nerves or inner fears. After making the perfunctory disclaimers that I would try not to play too badly for their sake the round started. What was a little different about this round was that the three gentlemen I was playing with were Oriental. Were they Japanese or Korean, that was my thought. Why, you ask. Well, it's simple, sort of.

This was a week or so before Christmas and we had a foreign student staying with us. Mrs. Commish and I have one child, a daughter (who never practices her golf game but when she plays she has this beautiful natural feather draw that I would die for, but that's another story) who was a 10th grader at Oldfields School, a wonderful little school in northern Baltimore County that has students from all over the country and world. One of the girls, Suna Jo, was my daughter's "little sister." This meant that she would take Suna under her wing and help her to acclimate to living in America away from her family. Suna was Korean but her family lived in Japan. Mrs. Commish's mother, Buzzy (short for "Old Buzzard"), was getting up in years and was living with us at the time, also. Buzzy had a hard time remembering Suna's name and called her Sushi, a nickname which stuck with her for the rest of her Oldfields days.

Sushi was a boarding student and had gone to Texas to spend the holidays with one of her friends. Something happened with that family and Sushi had cut short her visit and return to the school. Oldfields asked if she could spend time with our family because there would not be any other kids in residence over the holidays. We said, "Of course," and with that a golfing memory began.

At the time Sushi was a little shy. Her English was fine but she was uncomfortable with it so she generally spoke only when spoken to. My daughter and Sushi, being kids, had a fine time and you could hear lots of laughing and such noise as high school kids make but I felt a little awkward because I didn't think Sushi was comfortable with us because of the language barrier.

Sunday morning came and I woke up to walk-on at the local municipal course. Did you remember, this story is about walking on at the golf course? Anyway here I was teamed up with three Oriental golfers and having a Korean girl staying with us that I wanted to make feel more at home. For the first 5 holes I wondered how to ask them if they were Korean. Would it be an insult if they were Japanese? Would I be thought of as just another "ugly American," an insensitive white guy, etc., etc. We talked small talk but nothing to remember until I finally thought, "What the hell, if I'm thought of as insensitive, so be it 'cause I'm trying to help my daughter's friend feel better." On the sixth tee I asked the most loquacious of the bunch if they were Japanese.

He laughed and told his friends what I had said (in his language) and they all laughed and told me they were Korean, couldn't I tell? After all, they said, Koreans have a more rounded head than Japanese and they are much more handsome. I said that it was great that they were Korean because... and I went on with the story of how Sushi was staying with us. I told them that I wanted to try to make her feel more at home and they helped me memorize a couple of phrases in Korean. The next 12 holes were some of the most fun golfing I have ever had. The joking between all of us picked up and by the end of the round we were good buddies and hoped to play together again some time. Before I left I had to repeat the phrases 2 more times, just to be sure.

I got back to my hacienda around 10:30 in the morning with lox, bagels and cream cheese for breakfast. Entering the family room I saw Mrs. Commish in the kitchen but the kids were still upstairs. I yelled several of the phrases up the steps and Sushi came out smiling and saying, "What?" I repeated, "Pago pa? (Are you hungry?)" and the smile across her face was beautiful. She started to speak in Korean and I had to stop her because I was done after the 3 short phrases, but Sushi felt, finally, at home.

The rest of the phrases are gone from my memory bank now but I still smile every time I recall "Pago pa." If it hadn't been for the friendliness of other golfers I would have missed this memory and have been that much the poorer.