Almost exactly two years ago, Nick Frelinghuysen and John Knox treated me to a day at The National Golf Links of America, the C.B. Macdonald masterpiece. As a confirmed Macdonald geek, this was bucket list stuff, for which I remain grateful. When they suggested a return visit this year, I couldn't even pretend to play hard to get....As an added bonus, Nick's Aunt, Barbara Israel, the actual member who got us on last go around, joined us for our day, making it that much more enjoyable.
After that 2017 round, I wrote this post on our day. Typically, when I have cause to revisit old posts, they're far less insightful or humorous than my memory thereof. Ain't life like that? But in this case, I think its rather good, so perhaps my standards have been systematically lowered to that point where my writing can actually live up to expectations. Or perhaps it is that good.... I know, seems unlikely.
If you're curious as to all things Macdonald and the creation of this very special club, do read that old post. As for this post, I'm merely going to throw up some photos and tell some stories of our day. The golf was decidedly a mixed bag, especially on the upwind homeward holes, but craziness ensued. Curiously, much of the craziness involved play from the many bunkers....
As most of you will know, it was a perfect day for golf. Temps were in the mid-70's, with blustery winds but nothing like the gale force winds of that prior visit. Lunch remains quite the event, the cold lobster and mac and cheese/creamed corn customs to hopefully never succumb to political correctness. Jackets are required in the dining room, and the pairing with golf short remains an amusing look.
The property is special, overlooking Peconic Bay, but it's the clubhouse and the windmill that demand attention:
There isn't a bad hole to be found, but this photo shows my view or, more accurately, the lack thereof, to the third green, The Alps:
The line was the partially obscured tree on the far left. You really need to commit, to say the least....
The craziness starts at the Par-3 fourth hole, which is NGLA's Redan. I hit a no-good, God-awful iron, so far right that we screamed "Fore" out of concern for those on the fifth tee box, but it came up short of them in a bunker. Now this is a Redan and I'm far right, so it's straight downhill to the green. I've no clue how far to carry it, but in such circumstances one swings and prays.... Or maybe I have the order reversed.
I was trying to carry it about halfway, but completely chunked the explosion shot, which barely trundled out of the bunker. Apparently that the shot called for, as it rolled down and nestled next to the pin, thank you very much. The crowd loved it, but dumb friggin' luck is what it was.
If you've read that 2017 post, you'll have seen a picture of your humble correspondent in their version of the Road Bunker. This one:
After my faux-heroics from the bunker on No. 4, Barbara got herself up and down from this very bunker. She's a very good stick, but that was pretty special.
We were all amused by this tee box, as the long grass was quite close, requiring her to get the ball airborne quickly, which she accomplished without any stress:
Next up on our bunker heroics is the ninth hole, CBM's tribute to the Long Hole on the Old Course (No. 9 here). This is an important hole for scoring, not only because it's a three-shotter, but also because it's our last downwind hole. The fairway cants sharply from right-to-left, but my drive seems on a perfect line. Only, when we get out there, my caddie Ian isn't sure where it is. We spend 2:59 searching for it, before Barbara finds it in an unexpected location, an inch into the first cut on the right of the fairway.
I subsequently pull my third shot into a deep, greenside bunker. I hit a good bunker shot, but it's clearly too much of a good thing, but it seems from my subterranean vantage point to be headed for the flag.... I then catch the flag, unfurled because of the wind, but can't see what happens next. But I can guess from the reaction up on the green, it drops straight down and in. Are we paying for junk in this game? Alas, not, but not something one sees every day....
One of the caddies got this of our group on the 17th tee.... Upon further review, lass us and more Peconic Bay might have been a better call. Yanno, something like this:
Got time for one last amazing sandie? I was out of position on the finishing hole, having caught a fairway bunker off the tee. With 200 yards for my third shot into the fan, I pulled it so far left I had ask Ian if the destination was still on the golf course, to which he could only answer, "Yes, but....".
We found it at the far end of a bunker, where there was no stance inside the bunker. I had little choice but to squat a slow as my flabby thighs allowed, and try to catch the ball cleanly. Shockingly, I pulled it off, putting the ball with about fifteen feet, from which I made my putt. It was that kind of day...
After the chip-out but before putting, I had this brief exchange with Barbara:
Barbara: You had yourself in a number of awkward spots out there, Scott. But you handled them well, which I can only attribute to a misspent youth.
Me: It's actually worse than that. Since I didn't really play golf as a kid, it was mostly a misspent adulthood.Just a wonderful day, for which I thank my hosts. There's a reason that my bride frequently reminds me that I'm a lucky bastard... Very lucky, indeed.
We finished late, but the clubhouse was quite spectacular in the late day sun:
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