Golf Fore the Good

Each spring for five weeks, women golfers in Massachusetts have a golden opportunity for competitive golf unlike any other. From the end of April through late May, 840 ladies playing in twenty eight “cups,” tee off on consecutive Thursdays across the state at their respective roster of golf courses. The traditions of Spring Teams run long and deep, having been played out for over a century.

In the past, Spring Teams used to commence much earlier in April. With our fickle South Eastern New England spring weather, such as it is, I’ve heard tell that matches were played in snow flurries more than once.

For the past ten years or so, my own experience with weather during Spring Teams has been more benign that blustery, with more sunshine than showers. There was once a day that shall remain in infamy among this current generation of Spring Team participants, a day of torrential rain unfit for golf of any kind. That day, the matches went forward in such a deluge that it has remained a topic of conversation every year thereafter.

Having experienced match play events in all sorts of weather, I wasn’t overly concerned when the day of our third Spring Team match dawned wet and dreary. Rising nearly at dawn for a relatively easy, one hour road trip, I packed up the wet grips and rain gear and met up with the ladies for our car pool.

I’m a mudder. Years ago, as a very new golfer and quite the underdog, I’d won a match play event on a rainy day with a four foot side hill putt on the 17th hole. That single putt was enough to convince me that I played well in the rain. That thought has stayed with me, all these years. After all, golf is 90% mental, so they say, and if I say I love the rain, then I’ll believe it, and play well in it. For the most part, I have found this philosophy to be successful.

Not all women golfers share my sentiments. As matter of fact, very few golfers, of any gender, see the value of playing a match in the rain, particularly if they can cancel without being penalized. It was no sooner than had we suited up in our Gore-Tex, that our fearless (or fearful?) leaders voted to cancel our golf matches.

I’d woken up at 5 A.M. with a purpose. Mine was one of the few dissenting voices pleading to go forward to golf in the rain. If the ladies of Spring Teams had survived playing golf in the snow, surely we could survive a few showers.

I was easily out voted. It may be because I do not have as much opportunity to get in eighteen holes as some of the other lady golfers who are already retired with more flexible schedules – or it may be that I just don’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain.

The rain was light and the air was warm, with a nearly non-existent breeze. The golf course was open. It was also private, a lovely layout that I had played only twice before and might not have a chance to play again in the near future. Call me crazy (you wouldn’t be the first), but I wanted to play golf!

Many Spring Teams golfers travel as a group in one car, the conversation and the camaraderie of the journey contributing to the spirit of the competition. For just a moment, I saw no alternative but to ride straight back home with my teammates.

However, as luck would have it, another team in our cup was from a golf course one town over from my own. I’d become acquainted with their team captain through business. That one transaction had been a bit tricky and I knew from the experience that she was a tenacious and determined woman. She was also a busy lady, and as a matter of convenience had arrived that day alone, in her own vehicle.

The captains had voted. There would be no match played. Course management was kind enough to offer us eighteen holes if we were game enough to head out on the course. I spied my friend and could sense her disappointment was equal to my own. After all, she’d risen at four to bang out some computer work to free up the day. Effort like that should never be wasted, especially if there is golf to be played!

We swiftly agreed that she would give me a ride home once we’d taken advantage of a quick eighteen holes. Problem solved.

As the others stripped off their gear and stowed away their golf clubs we hustled to a cart and off to the first tee. “The skies look lighter, don’t you think?” we wondered aloud. “It’ll stop soon.”

I’m not sure either one of us truly expected it to stop raining; I know neither one of us really cared. We were making our approach shots to the first green when the caravan of ladies pulled out and away down the road, horns honking at us like a scattering flock of Canada Geese.

Standing on the second tee box we glanced to our right and, like a cavalry to the rescue, a golf cart came careening toward us, the occupant waving wildly. In a most gracious gesture of welcome, the home course captain had suited up to escort us around her gorgeous golf course, despite the weather. A more chivalrous show of etiquette was hard to imagine, under the conditions.

So it was that we golfed, we laughed, and had fun, feeling a bit like renegade golfers. While the rest of the would-be competitors that day were already home and dry, we zipped around the course in well under three hours, and our spirits- unlike our gear - never dampened.

The sun never did come out for us. The golf wasn’t great but the company was perfect. Believe it or not, I think all three of us would get up at 4 A.M. to do it again, just to say we did. Golf is one crazy game.