The Caucus Classic

Another year, another attempted round of golf. The sun is shining. Birds are chirping. All the foursomes have driven their little golf vehicles to their respective starting holes. After going over a few administrative loose ends, I run up to the first tee, where my husband and his cousins, Matt and Jason, are getting ready to tee off. I exhale, trying not to think about the logistics of the tournament.

As I am waiting for my turn to hit, I think back to 1994 when we had our first tournament with a field of 32 players, and no idea that we would still be doing this in 2008. But here we are, our organizing committee -- Audee, Ed, Manny, Gary and I -- filling our roles in making this tournament happen. Just to set the record straight, I want to put it in writing that the Caucus Classic was my idea. Got it? My idea! I was the one who floated the idea in the early ‘90s. Okay, so nothing ever happened with that, but it was still a good idea.

The reality, of course, is that it takes more than a good idea to get something like this off the ground, and the Caucus Classic would not have taken shape if Ed Lee had not taken up golf. The golf bug did not just bite Ed, it devoured him. He became a serious Golf Fiend. As his daughter once lamented to me: “The day my dad learned to golf was the worst day of our lives.” Sometime in 1994, Ed says, “Hey! Let’s have a golf tournament for the Caucus!” and the rest, as they say, is history. Ed suggested a few names, including “The Edwin M. Lee Invitational” and “The Edwin M. Lee Charity Golf Classic.” Since Ed really is the heart and soul of this tournament, those names would have been appropriate. But we still decided on the “Caucus Classic.”

I look over at Jason, who would have been a freshly graduated free-wheeling bachelor in 1994, and Matt, who would have been in elementary school. This tournament is older than my kids. Uh-oh. My turn to hit. Must stop thinking about being old. Not a good swing thought.

I fumble through the golf bag my husband has assembled for me. Since I play once a year, it’s like a goodie bag -- half the fun is finding out what’s inside. Heeeey, what’s this? He actually put the Lady Bertha driver in here! It’s the prettiest club in my bag. I usually hit my Uncle Min’s old Lynx 3 wood off the tee. But this Bertha looks so nice! Maybe I should try to hit it! No, maybe not. I could never hit it very well before. Too much flex. But maybe flex will be a good thing now, since I’m so old. Okay, I’ll try it. Why not?

THUNK. Sigh. Golf is harder than I remember. But I must persevere, because golf is a game of hope. There are multiple chances for redemption on every hole. (In my case, usually about four chances more per hole than you are supposed to have, but it is redemption, nonetheless.) I make the short walk over to my ball, and swing away. THUNK. Sigh. At least it went a little farther this time, and I can justify getting in the cart to actually ride over to my ball for the next shot. I continue my quest for redemption. I can hear my late father-in-law’s voice inside my head: “Golf is as easy as 1 (set-up), 2 (take it back), 3 (swing and follow through). Easy as 1, 2, 3.”

Okay, I can do this. Easy as 1 ... 2 ... 3 ...! Yes! The ball is in the air! It is going farther than I can spit! And in the general direction of the hole! I did it! I am Tiger Woods! Golf is an awesome game! Oh, how I love this game! Oh, how I love watching the ball fly through the air instead of hitting some obscure not-supposed-to-be-in-play tiny little metal sign in front of the water hazard! I love golf!

The fairway reaches out to me with lush green open arms, its undulating terrain beckoning me to play on. Even the cattails seem to be reaching out to me. The course loves me. Golf is such an awesome game. I wonder why I don’t play more often? Golf is so much fun! Hmmm, what club should I hit next? This one looks good, I’ll just use this one. Nice and easy. Good, confident swing thoughts. Happy swing thoughts! Golf is as easy as 1... 2... THUNK. Sigh.

This game sucks.

“Hey, Matt -- did I play last year, or did I leave to watch the kids?” I ask Matt, the youngest member of our foursome, because he still remembers things.
“Yeah. I think you played about six holes,” he says with a smile. (It’s always good to say potentially disparaging things with a smile.)
“Huh. What hole are we on now?”
“This is the third hole.”

I groan silently at the thought of fifteen more holes of torture. Then I realize that I am not groaning silently, but that others can actually hear me. They can probably see me rolling my eyes, too.

By the sixth hole, I am enjoying my round. I have hit my stride, found my groove and am feelin’ groovy. Coincidentally, I have also stopped golfing, and am concentrating on eating snacks. I could use a Twix bar right now. And a Diet Coke. Where is that drink cart, anyway? I watch as my husband hits an incredible drive down the fairway, getting my redemption vicariously. Now this is fun and relaxing. It’s a beautiful day. Life is good.