I've worked with the Caddies for 20 years. I have caddied once for a Pro, John Morse...just a Pro-Am....many times for an Am...it is Hard work if you want to do it right. Got a kick out of this story.
So you think you want to be a caddie?
Don't quit your day job quite yet
Posted: July 1, 2007
Golf Beat
Gary D'Amato
Haven - If you're going to caddie in a big, important golf tournament, you've got to follow the Golden Rules of bag-toting, otherwise known as the three "ups."
Show up. Keep up. Shut up.
I thought I would impress Mark Bemowski by showing up early for our 10 a.m. tee time at Whistling Straits on Sunday. Bemowski, the 2004 U.S. Senior Amateur champion from Mukwonago, had hired me to caddie for him in his first practice round for the U.S. Senior Open this week.
I pulled into Whistling Straits just before 9 a.m. and, when nobody flagged me down, turned into the players' parking lot and wedged my Kia inconspicuously into a row of shiny Lexus courtesy cars.
Bemowski showed up at 9:35 a.m. and I already had my game face on. I got him a yardage book and a bucket of range balls so he could warm up. I dipped the end of a towel into a water bucket and cleaned his clubs while he hit balls. I was thinking, "Tiger's caddie makes big bucks for doing this?"
We would be playing with Jim Rollefson of New Berlin, an amateur qualifier who had hired a professional Whistling Straits caddie named Jason for the day.
As Bemowski and Rollefson rolled a few practice putts just before we teed off, I whispered to Jason that I was a neophyte caddie and asked for advice.
"You'll be fine," he said. "The first thing you need to know is that the yardage marked on the sprinkler heads is to the front of the greens."
After Bemowski hit a perfect drive down the right side of the fairway on No. 1, I caught up to him and casually said, "Mark, just wanted to let you know the yardage on the sprinklers is to the front."
"To the front?" he said, eyeing me quizzically. On most courses, the yardage on the sprinkler heads is to the middle of the green.
"To the front," I said firmly. Already, I was contributing to the team.
The weather was gorgeous, sunny with temperatures in the low 60s. Since most of the Champions Tour players would be arriving later Sunday or Monday, we had the course to ourselves. The only sounds we heard were the Lake Michigan waves crashing on the shoreline and the wind rustling the native grasses.
Bemowski crushed his driver all day. Jason gave him the line on every tee and, for the most part, he nutted it right where he was aiming. If he hits it like that when the championship starts Thursday, he's going to do well.
He also raked his own bunkers, which I couldn't see, say, Tom Watson doing. But it was OK with me. My main duties were keeping his clubs clean and not losing his head covers. Even I could handle that.
Everything was going great until we got to the ninth green. He had hit four approach shots into the green from different distances, and when he finished putting out he had only three golf balls.
"Where's my other ball?" he said.
I didn't know. I had lost one of his golf balls, not in the rough but around the green. There are few bigger embarrassments in caddie-dom. The only thing worse is violating the fourth "up:" Don't throw up.
"I'm going to have to dock your tip," Bemowski said.
Things went downhill from there. I didn't think carrying a golf bag could be such hard work. Bemowski's TaylorMade bag, so light at the beginning of the day, now felt as if it had lead weights in the pockets. The rough terrain was killing my feet, my ankles and my knees.
I hit the wall on the back nine. Whereas earlier in the round I obsessively cleaned every bit of dirt from the grooves in his irons, now I was just swiping them with the towel and tossing them in the bag.
Then I got careless.
On No. 15, after Bemowski hit out of a fairway bunker, I got too close to the edge of a steep hill, slipped and took a nasty spill. Bemowski and Rollefson never saw me because they already were walking toward the green.
As I went down, I instinctively clawed at Bemowski's clubs and took them with me. The little legs on his golf bag splayed in the wrong direction. I scrambled back to my feet and inspected the damage. When I tried to stand his bag on its legs, they extended at comical angles. Then the legs wouldn't snap shut and I had to close them manually. I had broken his golf bag!
I caught up to Bemowski and said nothing. From then on, instead of standing the bag on its drunken legs, I merely held it upright and let him pull out the club he needed. How was I going to explain this?
We finished the round, with a handful of spectators watching Bemowski and Rollefson putt out on No. 18. I could imagine the grandstands being filled with 10,000 spectators in a few days. I'd have had goose bumps, but that would have required energy, and I was flat out.
Finally, I had to tell him. Bemowski listened patiently as I told him what had happened back on No. 15. The good news was that I hadn't broken any bones. The bad news was that I had, uh, broken his golf bag.
"Don't worry about it," he said. "I can get another one from TaylorMade."
We had lunch in the dining area marked "players and guests" (OK, it felt pretty cool) and went over the highlights of the round. I asked Bemowski how he would grade me as a caddie.
"I'd give you a 'B' " he said.
Naturally, I wanted to know how I could have earned an "A."
"For starters, by not ruining my equipment," he said dryly.
Got to admit, he had me there.
I think I'll keep my day job. Not that I have a choice.
So you think you want to be a caddie?
Don't quit your day job quite yet
Posted: July 1, 2007
Golf Beat
Gary D'Amato
Haven - If you're going to caddie in a big, important golf tournament, you've got to follow the Golden Rules of bag-toting, otherwise known as the three "ups."
Show up. Keep up. Shut up.
I thought I would impress Mark Bemowski by showing up early for our 10 a.m. tee time at Whistling Straits on Sunday. Bemowski, the 2004 U.S. Senior Amateur champion from Mukwonago, had hired me to caddie for him in his first practice round for the U.S. Senior Open this week.
I pulled into Whistling Straits just before 9 a.m. and, when nobody flagged me down, turned into the players' parking lot and wedged my Kia inconspicuously into a row of shiny Lexus courtesy cars.
Bemowski showed up at 9:35 a.m. and I already had my game face on. I got him a yardage book and a bucket of range balls so he could warm up. I dipped the end of a towel into a water bucket and cleaned his clubs while he hit balls. I was thinking, "Tiger's caddie makes big bucks for doing this?"
We would be playing with Jim Rollefson of New Berlin, an amateur qualifier who had hired a professional Whistling Straits caddie named Jason for the day.
As Bemowski and Rollefson rolled a few practice putts just before we teed off, I whispered to Jason that I was a neophyte caddie and asked for advice.
"You'll be fine," he said. "The first thing you need to know is that the yardage marked on the sprinkler heads is to the front of the greens."
After Bemowski hit a perfect drive down the right side of the fairway on No. 1, I caught up to him and casually said, "Mark, just wanted to let you know the yardage on the sprinklers is to the front."
"To the front?" he said, eyeing me quizzically. On most courses, the yardage on the sprinkler heads is to the middle of the green.
"To the front," I said firmly. Already, I was contributing to the team.
The weather was gorgeous, sunny with temperatures in the low 60s. Since most of the Champions Tour players would be arriving later Sunday or Monday, we had the course to ourselves. The only sounds we heard were the Lake Michigan waves crashing on the shoreline and the wind rustling the native grasses.
Bemowski crushed his driver all day. Jason gave him the line on every tee and, for the most part, he nutted it right where he was aiming. If he hits it like that when the championship starts Thursday, he's going to do well.
He also raked his own bunkers, which I couldn't see, say, Tom Watson doing. But it was OK with me. My main duties were keeping his clubs clean and not losing his head covers. Even I could handle that.
Everything was going great until we got to the ninth green. He had hit four approach shots into the green from different distances, and when he finished putting out he had only three golf balls.
"Where's my other ball?" he said.
I didn't know. I had lost one of his golf balls, not in the rough but around the green. There are few bigger embarrassments in caddie-dom. The only thing worse is violating the fourth "up:" Don't throw up.
"I'm going to have to dock your tip," Bemowski said.
Things went downhill from there. I didn't think carrying a golf bag could be such hard work. Bemowski's TaylorMade bag, so light at the beginning of the day, now felt as if it had lead weights in the pockets. The rough terrain was killing my feet, my ankles and my knees.
I hit the wall on the back nine. Whereas earlier in the round I obsessively cleaned every bit of dirt from the grooves in his irons, now I was just swiping them with the towel and tossing them in the bag.
Then I got careless.
On No. 15, after Bemowski hit out of a fairway bunker, I got too close to the edge of a steep hill, slipped and took a nasty spill. Bemowski and Rollefson never saw me because they already were walking toward the green.
As I went down, I instinctively clawed at Bemowski's clubs and took them with me. The little legs on his golf bag splayed in the wrong direction. I scrambled back to my feet and inspected the damage. When I tried to stand his bag on its legs, they extended at comical angles. Then the legs wouldn't snap shut and I had to close them manually. I had broken his golf bag!
I caught up to Bemowski and said nothing. From then on, instead of standing the bag on its drunken legs, I merely held it upright and let him pull out the club he needed. How was I going to explain this?
We finished the round, with a handful of spectators watching Bemowski and Rollefson putt out on No. 18. I could imagine the grandstands being filled with 10,000 spectators in a few days. I'd have had goose bumps, but that would have required energy, and I was flat out.
Finally, I had to tell him. Bemowski listened patiently as I told him what had happened back on No. 15. The good news was that I hadn't broken any bones. The bad news was that I had, uh, broken his golf bag.
"Don't worry about it," he said. "I can get another one from TaylorMade."
We had lunch in the dining area marked "players and guests" (OK, it felt pretty cool) and went over the highlights of the round. I asked Bemowski how he would grade me as a caddie.
"I'd give you a 'B' " he said.
Naturally, I wanted to know how I could have earned an "A."
"For starters, by not ruining my equipment," he said dryly.
Got to admit, he had me there.
I think I'll keep my day job. Not that I have a choice.
