Golf Fore the Good

On a glorious summer weekend in southern New England with weather that can only be described as divine, professional golfers and amateurs alike vied for championship status. On this same weekend, the golf gods have reclaimed one of their own. Esteemed for her immaculate pro shop, beloved for her zest for life at the 19th hole; revered throughout greens and fairways of area golf courses; in this, our own little corner of the kingdom of golf, Carol Haberl was a nothing less that a deity.

Every local golf community has its staunch supporters, populated with greens keepers and head golf professionals; the youngest of junior golfers and seasoned players; memberships that include the newly addicted to plus-handicappers. Our local municipal course can count ourselves among the luckiest to have known an unparalleled supporter of the game. Carol was a champion of the game who walked among us. She stood for everything that was good for the game.

I was personally blessed to meet this preeminent guardian of local golf just ten short years ago. My life entwined with hers in many ways before we’d ever met; her son was my golf pro, her future daughter-in-law my client and customer, and my future husband, her friend. Perhaps this was destiny at work. Or, given a more logical explanation, if you play golf or if you know someone who does, then you know someone who knew Carol. Among my friends, many are lucky enough to have enjoyed her as a part of their life for decades. Together with her husband, Jay, a local golf legend in his own right, they built a life, a golf course and a first-rate reputation for all things golf. Our locale has produced its share of PGA and LPGA players as well as an assortment of talented players on mini-tours. Though I never once saw her swing a golf club, Carol stood for golf, pure and simple.

While Jay rose early and was known to be at the course before sunrise, Carol was never a fan of the “dawn patrol,” her reference to an early morning shift. That aversion was often set aside for the good of the game. She was forever present on tournament days, at the course early and still there long after the last shot had been holed. A generation of golf club professionals will eternally envy her leader boards with her architecturally perfect penmanship and neatly organized divisions. Many a local office or game room wall displays one of her easily recognizable cardboard strips from a tournament long past.

Despite long hours and endless days shuffling between two municipal courses, this first lady of golf was never rumpled or ruffled. She had an air of distinction about her and dressed to suit. A devotee to the basics, we would commiserate about our wardrobes filled with khaki, beige and navy and wonder who every needed those Lily Pulitzer pinks and greens. Our love for neutral colors proved to be the only binding detail in our attire. I tend toward wrinkled and thrown together; her clothes were nothing but tailored and immaculate. No one could look more put together after a long work day than Carol, never a thread or a hair out of place. While I carry with me traces of Border collie plumage on my clothes and golf bag, there was never a hint of the Golden Retriever that shared her home. Given a damp and windy day, no woman at a golf course, anywhere, could look more coiffed in a golf cap, or more feminine.

Her flair for fashion as well as her knowledge and commitment served the golf course well. No pro shop was better stocked or responsive to players’ needs. Her legacy lives on at local courses through those who worked along side her and learned from her.

Carol’s energy radiated far beyond the border of her own town. Regionally, she dedicated herself to local pro-am organizations with the same enthusiasm and attention to detail. She was a jewel that illuminated the game of golf in many ways. She is irreplaceable, a one of a kind gem. We will treasure all she gave to us and sorely miss her light and her laughter.