The Royal Troon Caddie
Open Week reminds me of the countless great experiences I have enjoyed at Royal Troon Golf Club in nearly four decades of playing there, not the least of which are the caddies. They are professional, friendly and full of wise cracks. For example, if they tell you to avoid left and you hit it left, the response might be: “You do know left, don’t you? That’s the hand with the glove on it.”
When I play Troon, I always take a caddie and, inevitably, there is at least one caddie in the group who remembers me. My guess is that’s because in my younger days I was a single digit golfer who usually could hit or putt it where they told me to, I played there often and, unlike the Dalai Lama, I’m a big tipper. All have combined to make me somewhat of an insider to whom the caddies tell stories never heard by most visitors and certainly not by the members of the club.
My favorite Troon caddie story is about the day three Americans showed up at the first tee somewhat early in the morning after spending most of the night before across the street in the bar of the Piersland House Hotel. There were supposed to be four and the four caddies they’d booked were waiting for them on the tee, but one of the planned foursome was so hung over he didn’t answer the bell. Now, the Troon starter at that time was notorious for “creating” tee times for those unreserved visitors who were sufficiently “kind” to him. Thus, the starter leapt at the vacancy by adding an Englishman who was loitering nearby to the group.
Before I turn the story over to my friend, the caddie, who told it to me, I should remind the reader if you ask most any Scotsman what is he favorite international football (soccer) team, he’ll tell you he has two: Scotland and whoever is playing England. My friend shall remain nameless to protect his continued employment by Royal Troon Golf Club.
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“So there I am standing by the first tee with three of my mates expecting to take a loop with four Yanks (we like Yanks because they generally are good tippers) when at the last minute the starter puts an Englishman in the group. As the senior caddie with first choice, I take the Yank with the lightest bag. The next two take the other two Yanks leaving our youngest mate with the Englishman (the English are notoriously poor tippers). At that point the bleeding Englishman tells my young mate that he has a trolley and doesn’t need a caddie. That leaves the youngster without a bag perhaps for all of the day.
The six of us plus the Englishman and his trolley proceed down the first hole which that day with a trailing wind was a three wood and a 9 iron for a decent golfer. The Englishman hit driver, 7 iron and was still short. Once all four golfers are on the green, the Englishman looks over a rather lengthy putt then looks to me and asks which way the putt breaks. I says:
WHY DON’T YOU ASK YOUR TROLLEY?”
The moral of the story is… Never dis a Troon caddie.
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