The Games People Play

"But I just have to go to college." "This isn't Russia, is it? No, no its not Russia Danny."  

This last weekend was the big year end golf tournament at the club. It was a golf binge. For three days men competed in teams of two (one member, one guest) to claim the “Founder’s Cup.”

Every year I have a great time caddying in the event. Unlike the usual weekend loop, you really become part of the team. (I know that sounds lame, bear with me.) Because you have the same two players for all three days you have more of a vested interest in the outcome. (There is a financial incentive as well.)

It’s cathartic because you get beyond the usual small talk. I spent about 20 hours with two successful people: trading questions, telling stories, and reciting jokes. They forced me to think about my life’s path, and more importantly they gave me advice. Not in a distant, shallow way, nor in a paternalistic or intrusive manor. They got to know me, and then gave an honest assessment. It is reassuring to get an unbiased perspective once in a while.

There is also a certain amount of voyeurism in seeing how these egos and personas interact. There is the Judge Smails character: The founding member of the club. He has scolded caddies for using a member’s first name, he told me to stop looking for golf balls and selling them to members because I was “stealing club property,” he is generally the punch-line of the club.

There is a Ty Webb double: Young, rich, doesn’t work much, but, surprisingly he still gets it. He spent the weekend getting drunk and sneaking caddies beers.

And no Caddyshack analogy should be attempted without mentioning the lovely Lacy Underall: A member’s daughter, a complete princess, running around in a tennis skirt. You could tell that some of the other members felt conflicted about her. They knew she looked good, but they couldn’t help but be reminded of their own daughters her age. The dirty old men leered.

During the awards ceremony/banquet there were trophy wives on display, their new “work” obvious. All the women sported dark Hepburn-esque circular sunglasses, which perfectly complemented their Burburry and Coach bags. The men varied from GQ to buttoned-up and dorky, more fell into the latter category.

It was an interesting weekend to say the least. We did well, but did not take home the gold. All in all, not a bad way to pay for books.