Four Hackers and Bobby
It was the summer of 2009, and I was approached by my boss to ask if I’d like to fly into Orlando and drive over to Hobe Sound to play golf at Medalist. Now I was just a guy shanking a hundred on any 18 back then, but I did know that, with only a year of golf under my belt, I was going somewhere most would never have a chance to go. I also knew that this was happening on my birthday.
And what a day! We saw Jesper Parnevik, we saw all the amazing animals, either land or sea, that Greg Norman hunted, we sat in the same chair Tiger sat in, and we even wore the famous hat worn by the Shark himself.
“Oh man, what’s this guy gonna think when he sees us worm burning and hosel rocketing the ball all day”
Most all of it was overshadowed by our first experience with a caddie though. Here we are, four guys having a complete stranger following us around all day. We were told we had to have one since we were not members. We had won a charity event, so our trip was free; we weren’t too worried about the rest. Well, that was before we got to the range and met Bobby. He had coolers with water, wet towels, and already had yardages for all pins. Suddenly our whole conversation turns to “Oh man, what’s this guy gonna think when he sees us worm burning and hosel rocketing the ball all day.” We were wrong.
Bobby was OUR caddie. He made it clear that his only intent was to make our round more relaxing and fun. We were amazed at how he always seemed to be standing beside each of us when it was our turn to hit. If we were in the bunker, he was there, rake in one hand and wet towel in the other for our club. He had yardages for the ones hitting and the ones waiting. As we would spot our balls on the greens, there he was holding all our clubs, handing us cleaned balls back, and showing us the break, the run of the grain, and making the final shot of each hole more confident than ever. It was truly a game-changing experience.
Towards the end, we asked him if we could buy him a beer, but he stated, “I’d love that, but caddies aren’t allowed inside.” So we all took a picture, hugged, and thanked him for a forever memory.
“Thank you Bobby! Cheers!”
Looking back, our only regret was not having that beer with him. Since then, I’ve had many caddies, all unique in their own way, all allowing the game to be played as it should, and all leaving different, but great, memories and reminders of just how no strangers exist on the grass and no game has ever been so greatly paired as that of an 18-hole round with a caddie.
— Chris Ray, Tennessee
