Walking alone, discovering connections
- Bob
- 2 hours ago
- 9 min read
Reasoning with the Golf Gods
The challenge this outing is not going to be rain, wind, or cold. It’s not going to be tight lies, deep rough, or fast greens. It won’t even be a challenge to travel to this historic course. Today’s challenge is going to be hot, and when I say hot I mean heat, like the sun coming down and touching the Earth, and based on my weeks of weather watching and app browsing leading up to this golf round, I think the Sun will be touching down in Chandler Arizona right at about the time I tee off. Welcome to San Marcos Golf Course.
I had booked this trip over the winter thinking March would be a great time to head out to Arizona.
As the trip neared, maybe three weeks away, California, Nevada, and yes, Arizona were trapped in a record setting heat wave. All three states where blanketed in temperatures 30 degrees above normal, and Arizona was leading the charge with temperatures crossing the 105 degrees mark on a regular basis. Every day leading up to departure was the same, there was no break in sight. Thinking there wasn’t much I could do about it I started packing; the clubs, cooling towels, water bottles, and Looper.
My thought on bringing Looper was maybe the Golf Gods would see that I was trying to honor San Marcos historic fairways by walking them, so they might act kindly and lower the temperature just 5 degrees on the day I was playing.
Arriving into Phoenix all seemed fine, yes it was hot, but when I stepped outside after picking up Looper and my clubs there was a breeze, slight as it was, it was some what refreshing. It wasn’t the knock you over “opening the hot oven door” breeze you can get out here. I checked the time and it was about 2:30 in the afternoon, which got me thinking about the next day, the day I had a tee time at 10:15 AM. Feeling this cooling breeze-perhaps from the Golf Gods- I quickly revised my tee time from 10:15am to 3pm.
The next day I laid low in the hotel’s air conditioning hoping I could some how absorb the cool air into my skin and tap into that reserve during my round later in the afternoon. Soon it became time to brave the desert sun, I took one last deep breathe of hotel cool air, the sliding door open and I step outside. There was no alarms, no rush of oven door heat, and did I detect a hint of that cooling breeze like yesterday... thank you Golf Gods.
Standing its ground
The course is in Chandler, which is only 15 minutes south of Phoenix, but finding San Marcos was not easy. It’s not in a remote area, in fact it’s smack dab in the middle of what looks like a city under going a major revitalization effort. There were so many road closures and detours I was mildly entertained when GPS would tell me to go down a street and it would be closed with yet another detour. While circling around the city I stumbled onto what I believe could be Chandler’s main street. The entire street, side walks, and buildings where under going make overs. I could see a future, in a short period of time, when the dust literally settles this street will be the main destination for many people.
Then I saw it, slightly blocked by a construction barrier, a small sign that read “San Marcos Golf Course.” Making an immediate right turn I thought I was driving in to luxury hotel parking lot, but instead I drove along side the hotel, and looking forward I finally saw the entrance to the golf course. As I was getting my clubs fastened to Looper I noticed the hotel stretched right up the course’s parking lot. It looked like the hotel was leaning over a little to introduce itself to the course. Basically saying “it’s nice to meet you, let me know if we get to noisy over here.”
Here's to a good start
With all that construction hub bub surrounding the course it was quite peaceful and calm walking to the club house. I was alone when I checked in, I was alone when I putted a few balls on the practice green, I was alone when I headed to the first tee and I looked over at the driving range, which was alone too. The course seemed empty, and I think it might have been due to the heat. There was a twosome just getting off the first tee by the time I left the chipping area and was nearing the first tee. No one was scheduled to tee off after me for at least an hour so I hung back and slowly walked to the the tee box.
My plan was to let the twosome get all the way to the green before I teed off and try to keep that distance through out the round. Looper and I rolled up to the tee box, I found my target line, and I stretched a little while I waited for the fairway to clear completely. It was going to be just me and Looper today, alone, and that worked for. I don't mind playing solo, I hit an extra ball sometimes, chip around the green a few times, and just enjoy the walk.
The Marshall came by to confirm who I was and what my tee time was. We struck up a little conversation and knowing that I was not being pushed from behind it was great to learn a little more about the course before I teed off. We also learned a little bit about each other. It turns out we are both authors, he published a book and I write this blog. We briefly touched on writing styles and the joy of having stories bounce around in our heads and to get them out on paper, I mean, computer.
He stayed close by as I teed off to help spot my ball, which I thought was very nice, but it did increase the anxiety a little bit. 360 yard parr 4, slight dogleg right, a gallery of one, and no Driver warm ups. I’m sure I was feeling the same pressure the pros feel when they are stepping up to the first tee at the US Open, or The Ryder Cup. I mean I don’t have to worry about making a cut, or letting down America if I push my drive out of bounds.
Quickly snapping back to reality, I reminded myself you’re teeing off Friday afternoon at a Muni and there is a galley of one, I began to feel that I was going to be all right. Stepping up to the ball with a little bit of perspective I pick my target down the fairway and started my back swing, and… I striped it, I turned to the starter and wished him well, hit forward on Looper’s remote control, and headed straight down the fairway alone.
I did manage to start my round a little earlier then 3pm, it was a little cooler then yesterday due to the welcomed steady 10mph breeze I started walking up the right side of the fairway taking advantage of some shade. Shade not made by trees, but a long straight shadow like a wall or something. That wall was the facade of a new luxury apartment complex built right to the edge of the first fairway. Like the hotel, the apartment complex wasn’t intrusive, it was respectful. Almost like the complex and it’s tenets were asking permission to stay a while as long as they don’t disturb the experience the course has been presenting for 100 years.
I was literally walking along a shadow line between future development and historic preservation. It was as if the luxury hotel and the apartment complex where holding in the historic beauty of the course.
Pace of Play
It’s pretty easy to maintain pace of play when you’re out on the course solo. If I start creeping up to the group in front of me I usually hang back on the hole I just finished and practice chipping or putting all along looking over my shoulder to gage the progress of the group's behind me. By the third hole the twosome infront of me was about a hole ahead and there was no one behind me that I could see. The round was going well, I met some ducks and I played three nice holes, but the round was feeling a little flat to me. I was enjoying everything, but it felt like something was missing.
I made it to the ninth hole and stumbled upon a little oasis called Capone's Hideaway. It was perfectly place right in the middle if a three hole conversion point; the ninth, 12th and I believe the 16th. I ordered a hotdog, while ordering I learned Al Capone had a house just off to the side of the 12th green and it was still there. I’m guessing he wintered here, Chicago winters are tough. I stood in the shade-made by trees this time- while the twosome continued to make progress up the ninth fairway. I smiled, realizing I can get a second hotdog at the 12th tee box, oh and, see a piece of history after I putt out. Win win.
Before I teed off from the 9th tee I caught a glimpse of a foursome making there approach shots on the 8th hole. The pace of play has been good and I was surprised to see a foursome so close to me and the twosome. By the time I teed off on the tenth tee I could hear them tallying scores on the previous green leading me to think they were playing a two man scramble. That explained how they caught up to me so fast.
I could now hear some discussions about who’s winning, who had honors, there was some cheating allocations, and quickly followed by chatter about evening plans. I found myself eves dropping on their match, and it made me smile. I flashed back the warm summer evenings on Long Island, playing “money” tournaments like the Friendly’s Open with our foursome and my garage sale clubs slung over my shoulder. In those moments the only thing that mattered was that 60 yard approach shot in the fading light only to chunk it 15 feet forward and hear your “friends” burst out laughing. At first your frustration level is at its peak, but then to have it fade into to a light giggle and then a full belly laugh.
Swallowed by a scramble
In an effort to not slow down the Scramble group I picked up my pace to try and create more space between us, but by the 12th hole I had caught up to the Twosome in front of me. I stood at the 12th tee box waiting for the twosome to clear the 12th green in front of me, and right behind me the scramble group was putting out on the 11th green. I teed off on 12 and picked up my tee, I took a few steps off the tee box toward the fairway and stopped. At this moment a thought came to me, why don’t I let the scramble group join me, or should I say I could join the scramble group. My logic was grounded in pace of play, and I justified it like this; they had a foursome, but they were playing a two man scramble so it’s sort of like a twosome and I would make the third. My motivation may have been nuanced, but to be honest, I felt a little lonely out on the course this round.
I felt a little isolated this round, maybe it was seeing the luxury hotel and apartments building sneaking up to San Marcos’s property line, and knowing how important it is we continue to play on this historic gem. I did enjoy the brief conversation with the starter and gaining some local knowledge. Hearing the bander behind me and having it slowly creep up close to me I felt like I wanted to be part of their experience. So I invited them to join me, and they said yes, they even offered to weave me into the scramble but I declined, it was good enough for me to be a eye witness to the jabbing and gamesmanship.
As it usually goes when paired up with a group at the beginning of a round. I leaned a little bit about their history together, and I was not surprised to learn they lived near by and were long time friends, some were starting lives with new partners, and some had new borns. They were just getting started on their golf journey, and yes, I guess, they were just getting started with their life journey as well.
Course and players connect
For most of the Fore Stories journey I believed walking alone was the best way to experience these historic courses. It gave me time to think, to observe, and to listen for the stories each course had to tell. But somewhere around the third or fourth hole at San Marcos, I realized something was missing. I wasn't missing a better golf shot. I was missing people.
When I invited the scramble group to join me on the 12th hole, something changed. The conversations, the laughter, the good-natured ribbing... suddenly I felt connected not just to the foursome, but to San Marcos Golf Course itself.
And somewhere,, I think the Golf Gods smiled.
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