This time of year brings me back to the early morning days when I first started playing golf in earnest. Those summers I worked as a night watchman of sorts at our local town park – generally pledged to ensure that my fellow teens weren’t setting up shop with beer parties in the fields and fitness trails. A shift would run from 4 p.m. until 2 a.m. Due to an abundance of coffee consumption (I was ahead of the curve there) my circadian rhythm began to shift later and later. I’d get home all buzzed, veg out with some late, late shows and then watch the sun rise, falling asleep around 7 a.m.
I’m not sure why, but along about July, I got the idea that I could sneak on to golf courses as the sun rose and plow through nine holes in about an hour and a half. I’d park near the course as the sun was just glimmering on the horizon, grab my sticks and head out.
In the hindsight of 20 years, I can only approximate what I encountered and felt on those mornings as the dew made tracks behind me and the deer and fox glanced in my direction. It was peaceful. That’s about all I can say. I did encounter greenskeepers but only once do I remember being asked to leave or questioned on why I was out at 5 a.m. strolling down the 16th fairway.
I’m not in the habit of inviting people to break the law, but you haven’t experienced the game until you awaken at 4 a.m. (hell, stay up all night…) and head out to a course to sneak in a few holes. There’s wildness to a golf course just before dawn, even a bit of a rush in avoiding the greenskeeper (if he’s even out yet).
Among the best told stories I heard when researching “Bogies and Billygoats” were those of Tom Delaney and his brothers, all caddies at the old Albany Country Club and top flight local amateurs. Their home was just down the road from the old course (purchased by the state in the 1960s for the construction of the SUNY campus) and they relished more than a caddie’s usual right of Monday playing privileges. Tom and his brothers would head out after dinner to play at ACC and often they encountered the rent-a-cop the country club had installed to chase out interlopers. After a while they made a gentleman’s agreement of sorts. If I recall properly, it had something to do with one of the Delaney’s being in uniform serving his country. A vet turning the cheek to help another vet. They did those sorts of things in the 1940s.
My own summer-long early morning experiences had no instantaneous effect except to plant the seed that grows in everyone who fixates on the game. Alone out there with the sun coming up and no one else in sight, it’s easier than normal to lose yourself in the game and your surroundings. Things get brought down to ball, club, distance, swing. Listen to cry of whippoorwill. Notice deer along the Normanskill. Ball. Choose club, gauge distance, swing. It was a beautiful thing.
I really enjoyed reading this post of playing in the early morning. Thanks!
Posted by: dave | July 20, 2005 at 12:09 PM
Thanks Dave!
Posted by: who nellie! | July 21, 2005 at 05:26 AM