Golf with a Gift
We were desperate for some good weather. Golf in our Pacific Northwest this year has been severely muted by persistently rainy weather. We just finished the rainiest May in 74 years. Even now, in mid-June, the thermometer is still struggling to hit 70 degrees. Most days it hasn’t come close. When that goes on with no end in sight, someone has to take action. One of my buddies did.
Ron decided we needed a break and a trip south was just the ticket. He struck a deal with one of the old golf resorts in the greater Mount Shasta recreation area, collected seven of us to join him, and off we went. Ben organized the teams, the handicaps and the mixed format rounds – match play, four ball, and alternate shot over two 36-hole days. Naturally, side bets abounded.
Hayward Field, pictured above, at the University of Oregon, has long been a mecca of track and field in the U.S. and something of a holy place of worship for Eugene tracksters. This is an amazing world-class venue that also includes an indoor track and field facility, sports medicine and physiology research areas, and video, equipment and weight rooms. Notice the multiple runways and pits for each of the field events.
Six of us set off from Seattle and met up with Ron’s brother Brad, and a second friend, Will, in Medford, OR. Being the independent sort, I drove down and met Jason in Eugene at the NCAA Division I National Track and Field Championships being held at U of Oregon’s famous and spectacular Hayward Field. Jason’s son was competing in the 400M Hurdles, so he was already in Eugene by the time I got there Wednesday for the semifinals. Circumstances were not in Cass’s favor, however, and he didn’t make the finals set for Friday. While none of us were happy he didn’t do as well as we hoped, it did mean Jason could join us for golf. He and I piled into my Ford Explorer and headed for Medford. The early arrivers were playing 27-holes at Centennial and we joined them for the final 9 that afternoon. Then, we picked up the final couple stragglers at Medford airport and headed for Northern California and the bustling, neighboring metropolises of Weed and Mt. Shasta – roughly 3,000 people each nestled in the Shasta basin at 3,500 feet.
The real festivities started Thursday morning with tee times beginning at 8 am. Temperatures were cooperative, promising to climb to the upper 80s both days of our ‘tournament.’ The morning round was match play, followed at 1:30 pm by switching up the pairings and the format to four ball. Friday was the same, this time with match play again in the morning followed by alternate shot in the afternoon. Every round had its share of smack talk, good-natured ribbing and admiration for great shots. The course was picturesque. Morning rounds were whisper quiet – no jets, no cars, no wind, only the lovely early radiance of sun and the smell of pine, grass, and juniper mixed with the crisp, morning air promise of a beautiful day. Afternoon rounds were hot and breezy, with the winds sometimes swirling and reaching near gale force. Not completely unmanageable, but certainly a different challenge.
Will proved to be the hot stick, consistently shooting about 80. Scott and Ben were generally right behind in the low to mid-80s, while the rest of us were scattered anywhere from 90 to 106 (ouch! – glad that wasn’t me). The fairways were as little as 20 yards wide never more than 40, but the rough was generous so mistakes could usually be found. The front nine proved to be my favorite, as the holes were more varied and closely treed than the back. I also scored better on the front in 3 of the 4 rounds. I’m sure that had nothing to do with my preference….
Evenings we drove 7 miles down the road to Mt. Shasta, a very cute town with a surprising level of tastefully laid out bars, eateries and shops. Our hangouts ended up being the Pipeline for food and wine, Sparky’s for drinks, Mike & Tony’s for Italian fare, and Handsome John’s Speakeasy for beer and games. The Pipeline had a wonderful, spicy Ahi salad while Sparky’s had a wonderful carved wooden bar and drinking establishment in a space adjacent to their family restaurant. We could tell Mike & Tony’s had been in town for awhile, as it had that well-established, warm and rich foundational feel to its interior. Handsome John’s was pretty much the opposite, feeling a lot like a garage mancave in what may have been a combination of a steel and concrete block building. It was hard to tell with all the outdoor decoration and the fact it was dark when we got there. But it was fun with plenty of sports memorabilia decorating the walls.
Mornings were a little tough, as these old bones tried to resurrect themselves for a second day of coaxing that little white ball into 36 strategically-placed 4.25-inch diameter holes about the course. It was the first time I had played 36-holes on consecutive days, and honestly I wasn’t sure if my back or my transplanted knees would hold out. It all turned out well once I got moving. I’m still reminiscing about what a great time I had with this fine group of people. The winners made money, the losers were able to keep some of their pride, everyone ate and drank well (maybe too well), and in the end we will be donating some money to Ron R’s favorite children’s golf organization. Thanks for organizing Duck! You’re the man.
