I blame myself. Over beers at La Quinta this year, a group of us were sharing our goals for 2020. After 15 straight seasons of non-stop work, I said all I wanted was a vacation. Let that be a lesson: never speak things into existence.
In my defence, I wasn’t embellishing. I’ve spent half my time hauling a bag, the other half helping my dad and brother with their businesses. Mostly with accounting – what can I say, caddies are good with numbers – but the occasional physical labour as well. Between tour life and those gigs, there’s been zero ‘me’ time, to the point where I sold my condo five years ago. It’s been the road or crashing at their houses, nothing in between.
So, for a week or two after the coronavirus shut things down, I welcomed the plop on my father’s recliner to decompress. But that recliner has quickly turned into my prison. I’m a man of action. Need it; got to have it. No wonder I’ve been in perpetual motion – lounging around drives me nuts.
Doesn’t help we’re in an area where golf courses were closed for a long time. To get my fix, I turned my dad’s toolshed into a range. An old rug is the hitting surface, two mattresses are dampening panels. The ricochets come in hot; got a bruise on the right kneecap to prove it. Still a better practice facility than they give us at Torrey Pines, though.
For the moment, I’m fine with money. We’ve had a profitable season, and we’re targeting six to seven starts before the playoffs. My man didn’t pay me during the sabbatical but did give me a significant cut of the $US52,000 distributed to each player competing at the Players Championship. Other caddies aren’t so lucky.
With kids, homes and divorces, guys were already living pay cheque to pay cheque before the pandemic hit. The tour has the Caddie Benevolent Fund for hardship cases, but be it pride or worry that word will get out, I know of four guys who are hesitant to put in the request. Two of them have worked in landscaping in the interim to pay bills, another was on the maintenance staff at his childhood course. I shudder to think what might happen if there’s a problem anytime after the restart.
About that: most of the people I’ve been keeping in touch with – players and caddies – were mostly OK with the PGA Tour’s restart plan. But not everybody, including a close caddie friend. He thinks we should have shut down for the season and is still petrified about a second, fiercer wave hitting the USA during the transition back. He’s also not young, and to be frank, not a cat who will be entering marathons in the near future.
He’s also tied to a pretty good player at the moment. They have a solid relationship, and the player has already said he doesn’t have to return right away if he doesn’t feel safe. But my friend knows if the player has success while he’s at home, well, time to polish the résumé. And he might not get a bag as good as this ever again. I can tell the decision is weighing on him; his hair is greying by the Zoom call.
Me? Yeah, I’m worried about catching the coronavirus, no matter what type of bubble they’ll have us in. You saw the revised schedule; you weren’t driving from Fort Worth to Hilton Head to Hartford to Detroit. We’re still going to be exposed to COVID-19 – or worse, be carriers of it. And yet I’m willing to do it.
The reason I do what I do is the lifestyle. For the love of sport, yes. But it’s more than that. Even though we’re at the golf course for eight hours a day, there’s plenty of time to immerse yourself in a town’s culture. I’m big into visiting tourist sites and local shops. I can walk 18 in the heat and still go out for a hike. Huge foodie – will travel an hour if the joint is worth it – and as you can tell by the stomach, I’m not a teetotaller. The parties, the women… it’s a rush, compadre.
And, sure, some of that hasn’t been the same on our return, at least not right away. (That said, no matter what protocols are in place, if there’s a golf tournament taking place, there will be parties and women.) But that break I wanted? Hell, man. This pandemic has taught me one thing, and one thing only: for 15 years, every day on tour has been a vacation.
– with Joel Beall
