Missing A Piece Of The Puzzle

A friend of mine recently mentioned that he was volunteering at an upcoming LPGA event in our area. This got me thinking about my experiences with LPGA events. That experience consists of caddying in the Bent Tree Classic during the late 1970's. I was a member of the high school golf team, and we got the week off from school to do it. That alone made it enjoyable. We also got paid.

My recollection was entirely positive. The players were both kind and approachable. Many of the "big names" would seek you out to talk golf. I learned many things, not the least of which is that women are equally capable of cussing, telling dirty jokes, and needling each other mercilessly.

The tournament was played on my home course. We lived facing the 11th green. At the time, my approach to the game was to hit it as far as I could from the tee and hope I accidentally got a short iron close enough to the hole for a birdie. That all began to change during a practice round when Debbie Massey, asked me two questions.

The first question was, "How do you play this hole?"

That was easy, "Driver left, away from the water. Then wedge or sand wedge."

The second question stopped me dead in my tracks. "Why?"

I had no answer. Ms. Massey explained that it looked to her like a 3 or 4 wood and a 8 or 9 iron was the way to go. She wondered how many of my new Titleists lay submerged at the bottom of the small lake. The answer was to horrible to contemplate. I never hit driver on that hole again.

That's the main lesson I took from the time I spent watching and learning from the extraordinary LPGA players of the '70s. Thinking is the most powerful weapon in any golfer's arsenal. That, and the fact that a controlled shot of predictable distance is far more useful than a Herculean swipe at the ball that produces a shot traveling an unknown number of yards.

My fond reminiscences had one gaping hole. I couldn't for the life of me remember the name of the player I worked for in 1977 and 1978. I remember most everything about her clearly. She was a nurse from Birmingham, Alabama. She was a comparatively short hitter who taught me a good deal about the value of placement and finesse around the greens. She was exceptionally nice, and was a joy to be around. She also sent me a thank you note after each tournament. This glaring weakness of mind drove me nuts for days. I sat down at my computer this morning determined to find her name.

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