out, replaced if they are at all by a totally different breed altogether for whom
first name terms are usually the instant
order of the day and the traditional ‘tip,’
once offered for outstanding service,
is considered only an opening bid in a
bargaining war.
Times have certainly changed and
a sad sign of them is the fact that the
Old Course at St Andrews, shrine of the
game and Mecca for golfers from all
over the world, now permits pull carts,
including those infernal whirring electric monstrosities, upon its hallowed
turf, albeit in fairness only after luncheon.
However, in an effort to buck the trend, and in an act of defiance
now that the aging great aunt is safely
out of the country, I have renewed my
commitment to having a caddie, not
only to transport the clubs but also provide that level of support that is so comforting. To that end, and believing that
female caddies still make the best confi-
Caddies have always
been an integral
part of the game;
CharaCters, many of
them, loyal to regular
employers in the early
days of the game and
always an important
aide de Camp for
visitors to Courses
strange to them.
dants—Henrik Stenson clearly supports
my view—I have retained the services of
a young lady in every way as alluring as
my first goddess of the links.
It has to be said that she does at this
stage in her caddying career lack, shall
we say, a little in experience of the ancient game, but this will quickly change
as the wonderful world of caddying—
or more correctly “carrying”—unfolds
itself to her.
The decision to return to having a
caddie has been encouraged by a minor renaissance in my competitive career, and I felt it appropriate to mark
the resurgence by also sprucing up my
golf bag a little. Years of neglect without a caddie to look after the equipment
properly has resulted in a marked sloppiness in the kit that I have been anxious to repair, while at the same time, as
a hoped-for additional bonus, impressing my new employee.
To that end I have replaced the torn
and tatty woolen socks currently on my
driving clubs with two rather racy head-
covers for driver and spoon, one a rather handsome royal blue affair with a
large white bobble on top; and the other
a friendly, furry animal type tastefully
modeled on a famous Disney character
that, needless to say, I acquired in the
United States.
I am pleased to report that my new
caddie viewed both with approbation
on the first tee of our opening event as
a team recently. Indeed, she commented very favorably on the appearance of
both, which I felt fully justified my decision to install them.
Knowing, however, that she was as
yet somewhat unsure in matters of club
selection, and rather than have her take
the responsibility of suggesting which
driving club to play at the rather tight
opening hole, I suggested the No. 3 for
the opening gambit.
“Would that be the long stick with the
bluey or the Goofy,” came the purred
but hesitant reply.
I knew she would be a worthy
successor...n
