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 (photo: Joann Dost) The term “bucket list” has always seemed a bit melancholy to me. To partake in bucket list activities would almost seem to signal that I’m not invincible and I won’t live forever. I’m not yet ready to admit either. If I were to admit to a personal bucket list, a round of golf at Pebble Beach would definitely be on it. Outside of Augusta, or possibly St. Andrews, I can’t think of a course that would rank higher. The opportunity was recently placed at my feet as I was asked to stage an amazing fundraising event at Pebble. It was 24 guys from around the country paying top dollar for a once-in-a-lifetime weekend playing golf and hanging out with Hollywood star Will Ferrell to benefit his charity, Cancer for College. As the event organizer, I initially had no intention of playing. But as the Saturday round got underway on the Links at Spanish Bay, I have to admit, I did feel the slightest twinge of jealousy. When the Sunday round at Pebble rolled around, I had resigned myself to the reality that while I was close, a round at Pebble Beach would have to come another day. Then fate stepped in. One of the players abruptly had to leave just minutes before his tee time, leaving a hole in the field. I slipped on my golf shoes, fetched my clubs and marched to the tee. Although I’ve logged thousands of rounds on the course thanks to the Sony Playstation, and watched numerous rounds of the PGA Tour event, the reality of actually being on the tee was unnerving. A quick word with the caddy confirmed what I thought was the right shot and, in a blur, my ball split the fairway and I was off. A wedge shot and two putts later, I made my first par. I felt numb. It was almost like slipping into an alternate reality or a dream. There I was on a course I’d seen countless times, but it felt unreal. I was on sensory overload bordering on euphoria. It was all smaller than I imagined—the tee boxes, the fairways and the greens especially so. The view, on the other hand, was more spectacular than I ever could have imagined. Every hole seemed to have a more perfect view than the last. As I made my way around the holes, it all felt familiar and alien at the same time. As I reached the picturesque par-3 seventh hole, the view was unbelievable. When my birdie putt dropped, and with all due respect to my wife, I wondered if anything could possibly feel as good as this. It was a magical feeling that I’ve never experienced in more than 30 years of golf. It was a convergence of golf perfection. An efficiently designed golf course set on a beautiful coast on a sun-drenched day. A knowledgeable caddy armed with loads of historical information. A healthy body, clear mind and the uncanny ability to hit virtually every putt exactly where my caddy said. I desperately wanted to finish on a high note. My best drive of the day placed my ball just past the trees on 18 that I’ve seen a thousand times. A 5-wood left me only 90 yards in to the green and a shot at birdie. I tugged my approach into the left bunker, and my heart sank. I’d be lucky to make bogey, and that was no way to finish this masterpiece of a day. I knocked it out 10 feet from the hole. My caddy, Mitch, gave the read showing exactly where I needed to roll my ball to save par on one of the best finishing holes in all of golf. As my ball toppled over the edge of the hole, it was as if every frustration and anxiety left my body for a split second, and I floated on air. The putt meant nothing, but it represented everything that is great about this game. If you truly love the game, treat yourself to a round at Pebble Beach. There is no greater high. And don’t forget to tip your caddy. Greg Flores has been a sports and entertainment publicist for 20 years and has written for Southland Golf since 1995. Pebble Beach®, Pebble Beach Golf Links®, Pebble Beach Resorts®, and their respective underlying distinctive images are trademarks, service marks and trade dress of Pebble Beach Company. All rights reserved. Used by permission. |
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