Onward, inward, upward?

Just plain old golf

tanners

I just responded to a Facebook post from Links Magazine, which bills itself as “The Best of Golf,” a billing I find it hard to disagree with, even if it is going to take me at least one, maybe two, full Powerball hits for me to reach a stratum that would get me onto the remarkable courses they write about.

Anyway, the post has to do with declining numbers of people playing golf.

Here is the post, followed by my response. I’d be interested in hearing other people’s takes. By all means, please respond here.

Every year, the National Golf Foundation (NGF) publishes a study on how the game is doing, both the numbers of players and the reasons for the game’s growth or decline. Right now, it’s in decline: Participation slipped just a bit from 2011 to 2012 (25.7 to 25.3 million, small enough to be a statistical error), but since 2005 the game has lost 4.7 million players, a disturbingly large number. Studying those who dropped the game, the NGF divides them into two types: “Once Committed” and “Never Committed,” with the latter—who never played more than 10 rounds in their lives—the much larger group. The “Onces,” who used to play like the rest of us, cited time and money as their principal reasons for giving it up, followed by health, lack of playing partners, and other activities. The “Nevers” primarily gave up golf for other activities that were more fun. Golf, they said, is too hard, too frustrating, and makes them too uncomfortable. Not enough fun. Interesting. Think about it.

My response:

As a “Once,” I respectfully disagree with the “Nevers.” Golf is indeed fun, in a damnable sort of way. Those of us who golf know what I mean. But golf likely never would captivate the “Nevers” who don’t believe it is fun, and it never would have — just as my idea of fun wouldn’t be to hoist a jib (is that what they do?) in a sailing league. To each his own. Golf shouldn’t mount a campaign to install 10-inch-diameter cups and concave greens as a way to make it “more fun.”
The “Onces,” if you ask me, are more crucial to the game of golf than the “Nevers” are. As a “Once,” regrettably, I agree that time and cost are huge barriers. It pains me to say that, and I can’t say I know what to do about it — though I am willing to pay less for a round of golf on a well-plotted course that isn’t what we consider to be in immaculate condition.
Speaking of fun, can I interest anyone in a fun offseason golf read? “Fore! Gone. Minnesota’s Lost Golf Courses, 1897-1999.” Due out within weeks. Find out more at ForeGoneGolf.com. Yes, it’s a shameless plug

Obstruction of justice?

MN Twins, , ,

The most vacuous postgame argument from last night’s Game 3 of the World Series might also be the most common — that “no umpire’s call should decide a World Series game.”

Why not? What if an umpire’s call is required on a play that decides the game? Who should make it? Should we, oh, I don’t know, call Pee-Wee Herman on the phone and say, hey, Pee-Wee, whaddya think? Safe or out?

What about a called third strike with two out in the bottom of the ninth? Isn’t that an umpire’s call also deciding a WS game? Isn’t that pretty much the same thing?

I have no stake in this — don’t care which team wins. As I read the rule, umpires Dana Demuth and Jim Joyce got the call absolutely right. Good for them.

Lost courses, like you’ve never seen them before

Lost golf courses, , ,

ne2

Wow, I bet you’re all salivating over that title — like Pavlov’s schnauzers, on the morning the doc brought an extra bag of bones into the laboratory.

Yes, the title of this post is more than a little self-deprecating. First off, how many of you have even seen a lost golf course site before, at least knowingly? Probably not many. Most of them are nondescript. Second, it’s not like a handful of amateur, that is to say amateurish, photos are going to bring to life golf courses that have been closed for 78, 74 and close to 40 years. (I’ll leave that task up to “Fore! Gone.”)

More than anything, this post is just my vehicle for getting some use out of the fancy-schmancy toy I bought the other day: my new Android cellphone/camera/texter/device-for-getting-lost-between-seat-cushions. OK, it’s not fancy — just a lower-rung Droid Ultra, no bells, no whistles. And it’s not schmancy — if it runs the newest apps or coolest new games, there’s almost no chance I’m going to figger them out.

But my daughter did show me one feature that I thought was neat: the panoramic photo-taking feature. So, like the kid with the new toy at Christmas, I brought out the toy today and shot panoramic photos of some East Metro lost courses. Nothing earth-shattering here, but I think they do point out just how lost most of Minnesota’s lost golf courses really are. (You should be able to click on the photo for a larger view. I’m going to apologize for the thumbnail-size photos on this post — if I try to make them bigger, they get really fuzzy. I’m sure there’s a way to do it, but it’s beyond my knowhow. West Metro panoramic photos, for better or worse, coming soon.)

Bayport Golf Club: The grounds of this 1930s course are shown in the photo at the top of this post. I was standing near the first or second hole, and the photo includes three well-known Bayport features: Andersen Windows, Croixdale senior care center and Minnesota Highway 95. The related chapter in “Fore! Gone.” is titled “Nuts to You.”

——————————————————————————-

ne1

Above: Oddest Minnesota golf-course site ever. Within about 500 yards of the Bayport Golf Club site. Chapter title: “Playing with Conviction.”

———————————————————————————-

ne3

No lost golf course sites above, at least none that I know of. I just couldn’t pass through the Bayport-Stillwater area without getting a panoramic photo of downtown Stillwater, the St. Croix River and neighboring Wisconsin. (Considering how overbearing people can get about the Viking-Packer rivalry, is it even possible to write “neighboring” when it comes to the two states?)

———————————————————————

ne4

Matoska Country Club: If you’ve ever played Gem Lake Hills Golf Course and taken a gander at the million-dollar homes immediately to the south, you’ve taken a gander at the former grounds of Matoska CC, where, incidentally, a gander or one of its relatives once met an unkind fate at the hands of a Matoska golfer. Chapter title: Thor and Tom’s Place.

———————————————————————

nw

Northwood Country Club: Minnesota’s first Jewish Golf Club, in North St. Paul. Nothing to see here, really. Just streets, houses, a park and a water tower. Purely out of shame, I was prepared to not post this photo. Then I thought, what the heck. Might as well give any of my photographer friends who stumble upon this a good guffaw over the rotten photo. (It’s what happens when you hold the camera still when you’re supposed to be panning at a consistent pace. Guffaw away.)

 

 

The old haunt – almost

Lost golf courses, , ,

westwoodnature2

A trip to the western suburbs yesterday took me, predictably, to my new favorite spot to visit: Westwood Hills Nature Center in St. Louis Park. It’s a great place for a hike through the woods along Westwood Lake; it’s also an excellent spot to take kids to learn about nature. Doesn’t hurt that there’s no admission charge. (The turn-of-the-seasons photo was taken from the road that leads into the nature center. Click on it for a larger view. Another photo, below, shows a red-tailed hawk that the Westwood staff tends to; it is blind in one eye and likely wouldn’t survive if it were released.)

Predictably, I suppose, I had an ulterior motive in making the visit. Two of them, really: A, I wanted to drop off a flyer advertising the impending publication of “Fore! Gone.” at the nature center, which was built on the site of what I’m calling “the king” of lost golf courses, Westwood Hills Country Club / Golf Course; and, B, every time I set foot on the grounds, I learn something.

What I learned yesterday: The old golf course grounds might be haunted.

Emphasis here should be on the might have been. For one thing, there is the highly debatable notion that dead guys got caught in the giant afterlife linen closet in the sky and donned white sheets cuz it’s all they could find to wear and then came back to worldly places with which they were familiar. For another, as it turns out, The Haunting in northwest St. Louis Park, if it really does exist, doesn’t appear to exist on the old Westwood Hills golf grounds.

Still, it was amusing to ponder, if only for the hour or so it took to look at old aerial maps in an attempt to fortify or refute the “haunting” notion.

Someone I met at the nature center referred me to a page from the 2002 book “Ghost Stories of Minnesota” by Gina Teel. Under the heading “Fox Farmer Phantom,” Teel wrote:

“The ghost of a fox farmer is said to haunt Lamplighter Park in St. Louis Park. The eerie figure is set aglow by a spectral lantern that lights the path he is doomed to walk for all eternity.”

Cue the creepy organ music, and continue:

“Residents in surrounding neighborhoods have for years claimed to see the ghostly shape at night walking on the other side of the pond.”

I also was told yesterday that there was indeed once a fox farm in that area of St. Louis Park, and it was speculated that the fox farm might have been on part of the former golf course grounds. So when I got home, I turned on all of the lights as brightly as possible, armed myself with the latest anti-ghost technology (I know; there’s no such thing) and checked to see if the old fox farm or the current Lamplighter Park occupied the Westwood Hills golf grounds.

Darn it; that was disappointing. Looks to me like the northern edge of the golf course grounds in that specific area was Franklin Avenue/Westmoreland Lane, which actually is a path that now appears to divide Lamplighter Park from the grounds of St. Louis Park Junior High School. The junior high rests on what used to be the golf course; Lamplighter Park, I am pretty sure, does not.

So the ghost story, at least as it relates to Westwood Hills Golf Course, appears to have been debunked. Although I suppose it’s plausible to wonder if more than one twilight golfer at Westwood Hills was scared half to death not by the notion of standing over a 5-foot putt for bogey but rather over a 5-foot putt with the Bogey Man — the real thing — 100 yards in the distance, rounding up his spectral foxes.

westwoodcenter

redtail1

lamplighter

The first review is in …

Lost golf courses

Don Berry writes this about “Fore! Gone.”:

“A real page turner. I kept imagining myself playing these wonderful (and even not so wonderful) courses and wishing I had the chance to play some of these lost gems.”

Thanks, Don!

The back story:

About a month ago, I asked Mr. Berry, the head professional at Edinburgh USA in Brooklyn Park, a 14-time Minnesota Section PGA Player of the Year and Minnesota Golf Hall of Famer, if he would consider reading my book for the possible purpose, if he liked it, of writing a quick endorsement for the book’s back cover.

Berry spent the next few weeks reading the book, and reading greens. He finished fourth in the state senior PGA championship, then second in the state PGA match play (the guy can really play; I am among those who would love to see him take a shot at playing the Champions Tour, though he certainly knows what’s best for his career and life). This morning, he got back to me with an email. It opened:

“I read the whole book, cover to cover – really liked it, easy to read.”

Don added that he can’t wait to see the pictures, and I’m with him on that. Well, I guess I have seen the pictures, but I can’t wait to see how the words and pictures (modern-day photos by Peter Wong, many old photos by those who told me stories about the courses) come together, courtesy of my talented book designer, Tami Dever.

Back to Don’s email … he also offered these comments on “Fore! Gone.”, and I am honored and humbled to relate some of them here, with his permission:

“A morning tee time at Byrn Mawr? How great to play Westwood Hills and look over the fence at MGC! A great day of 36 at Hillcrest and Northwood? I’m in! Oh, how fun it would have been.”

“Reading the book I kept imagining myself playing these wonderful (and even not so wonderful) courses in the ‘20s and ‘30s – a different day, different equipment but how fun!”

A couple of Don’s comments will be melded together, again with his permission, and used as an endorsement on the back cover of “Fore! Gone. Minnesota’s Lost Golf Courses, 1897-1999”. I am deeply grateful for your time and words, Mr. Berry. Now go win a U.S. Senior Open. Or two.