I’m back. We’re back. But we’re going international now. I’m at the airport heading to London for my next Accidental Caddie engagement.
So checking into the blog for the first time in a long time (It’s been so long I even had to use Claude to update the DNS, CName, blah blah… last time I posted there was no Claude, no ChatGPT. AI, though increasingly in the news, was still borderline science fiction. No more.) On looking back at my last post, I realized, after providing the teaser about an upcoming competition at The Preserve Golf Club on the Monterey Peninsula, I hadn’t followed through and posted about it. If I thought I had loyal blog followers I would feel guilty about leaving them hanging, but I have no illusions. I do this for me, and Luke, quietly, gets a kick out of it. Anyway, The Preserve. Let me just say that driving to The Preserve along narrow roads so treacherous I imagined a trek to the Tibetan monastery in Lost Horizons. On the first day driving to Luke’s practice round, but my recreational round, I said to Luke that we needed to leave plenty of time before and after tomorrow’s round to get here and back, because this isn’t a road you want to be in a hurry on. Anyway, the course was spectacular, but what’s in the water up here that allows members to be okay with risking their lives every time they want to tee it up here? Is a good round of golf worth risking your life? Maybe. Long story short, we had a good practice round with Luke’s partner, a rising college freshman who was the grandson of one of Luke’s post-college mentors (in my day I didn’t even know what a mentor was), and the mentor/granddad (of course he was younger than me as Luke always takes pleasure in pointing out). Next day, as I remember, they both faired pretty well as a team but didn’t make the first page of leader board. Still it was another day to remember (or try to remember). Then we had to hustle back to Monterey airport (on the Road of Death) so Luke could fly back to Florida for a last minutely scheduled interview for a new job. But what about Dad? Dad would have to fend for himself soloing in our rental car north to San Francisco, but with a day to spare, I got a tee time with three other randos and teed it up at Half Moon Bay Golf Links, about a half hour south of SF airport. Licking my wounds from being abandoned by my kid, I wound up having a great time with this hodge podge of golfers, all of us with teenage handicaps, but earnest about our game. One guy was an arty sort of fellow from France, another a down home solid good old boy from Nebraska, and the other, I think, from South America. You can’t plan this kind of golf day. It just happens. We eventually bid each other adieu, and see y’all, and adios, before I made my way back to San Fran, turning in our car and flying back east… that was 2022. It’s now 2026. Luke has been charging through the corporate world and is now head of Flights and Fancy (I made that up to protect the innocent) with a major airline, living in downtown London. After spending his first six months there checking out the potential courses within an hour train ride, he joined Moor Park Golf Club, with two eighteens and a clubhouse that dates back to the House of Stuarts (that’s the 17th century for those who aren’t ready to be contestants on Jeopardy). Unsurprisingly, he was drafted by their scratch inter club team (they’re called the Scratch Team… 5 Division 1 players on a team of 8) and when he told his captain he’d miss their important upcoming match because his dad was coming to town, his captain dropped to his knees begging him to play (I’m exaggerating). After pleading his case to me, it’s going to be throw back Sunday with dad on the bag (bog on a trolley) in the 36 hole inter club match. The Accidental Caddie rides… well walks… again.
So checking into the blog for the first time in a long time (It’s been so long I even had to use Claude to update the DNS, CName, blah blah… last time I posted there was no Claude, no ChatGPT. AI, though increasingly in the news, was still borderline science fiction. No more.) On looking back at my last post, I realized, after providing the teaser about an upcoming competition at The Preserve Golf Club on the Monterey Peninsula, I hadn’t followed through and posted about it. If I thought I had loyal blog followers I would feel guilty about leaving them hanging, but I have no illusions. I do this for me, and Luke, quietly, gets a kick out of it. Anyway, The Preserve. Let me just say that driving to The Preserve along narrow roads so treacherous I imagined a trek to the Tibetan monastery in Lost Horizons. On the first day driving to Luke’s practice round, but my recreational round, I said to Luke that we needed to leave plenty of time before and after tomorrow’s round to get here and back, because this isn’t a road you want to be in a hurry on. Anyway, the course was spectacular, but what’s in the water up here that allows members to be okay with risking their lives every time they want to tee it up here? Is a good round of golf worth risking your life? Maybe. Long story short, we had a good practice round with Luke’s partner, a rising college freshman who was the grandson of one of Luke’s post-college mentors (in my day I didn’t even know what a mentor was), and the mentor/granddad (of course he was younger than me as Luke always takes pleasure in pointing out). Next day, as I remember, they both faired pretty well as a team but didn’t make the first page of leader board. Still it was another day to remember (or try to remember). Then we had to hustle back to Monterey airport (on the Road of Death) so Luke could fly back to Florida for a last minutely scheduled interview for a new job. But what about Dad? Dad would have to fend for himself soloing in our rental car north to San Francisco, but with a day to spare, I got a tee time with three other randos and teed it up at Half Moon Bay Golf Links, about a half hour south of SF airport. Licking my wounds from being abandoned by my kid, I wound up having a great time with this hodge podge of golfers, all of us with teenage handicaps, but earnest about our game. One guy was an arty sort of fellow from France, another a down home solid good old boy from Nebraska, and the other, I think, from South America. You can’t plan this kind of golf day. It just happens. We eventually bid each other adieu, and see y’all, and adios, before I made my way back to San Fran, turning in our car and flying back east… that was 2022. It’s now 2026. Luke has been charging through the corporate world and is now head of Flights and Fancy (I made that up to protect the innocent) with a major airline, living in downtown London. After spending his first six months there checking out the potential courses within an hour train ride, he joined Moor Park Golf Club, with two eighteens and a clubhouse that dates back to the House of Stuarts (that’s the 17th century for those who aren’t ready to be contestants on Jeopardy). Unsurprisingly, he was drafted by their scratch inter club team (they’re called the Scratch Team… 5 Division 1 players on a team of 8) and when he told his captain he’d miss their important upcoming match because his dad was coming to town, his captain dropped to his knees begging him to play (I’m exaggerating). After pleading his case to me, it’s going to be throw back Sunday with dad on the bag (bog on a trolley) in the 36 hole inter club match. The Accidental Caddie rides… well walks… again.
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