GOB's and Putting Percentages

I think before I talk about my loop today I should define something for everyone.

“Good Old Boy.” Definition: A “Yee-haw” individual. A southern gent with a high level of business acumen and prowess. They are usually employed as salesmen because of their incredibly personable approach to people as well as their consistent inability to understand the meaning of the word “no.” They have names like “Billy” “Rex” “Bobby” or “Duke.” They are open with their feelings and often share their life stories with total strangers. They are also known to spout out a seemingly random assortment of words with the same rhythm and intonation as if they were really saying, “Yee-haw.”

Now I’m not saying every “Good Old Boy” is exactly like this, but every single “GOB” I’ve run into fits this description. They are just incredibly warm and quirky individuals that keep my job interesting.

Today the tee sheet was pretty empty, and I was just glad to finally get out and work. I would be caddying for four individuals on carts and they were all most certainly good old boys.

When we got to the first green, I was pleasantly surprised to find that some of my green-reading skills had returned. Well, I suppose I can’t take all the credit, because the Superintendent hasn’t changed the hole locations for 3 days now and I think I’ve seen enough putts by now to be an expert. I almost feel like I’m cheating half the time.

“Where does this one break?”

“Two balls left to right.”

“But you haven’t even looked at the green.”

“I know.”

“Great read.”

“I know.”

But it felt great to hear “great read” again. Those words never get old.

Anyway, while the group was walking to the second tee the Caddie Master came out on a cart to deliver some beers to the group. Before he started driving back in towards the clubhouse he pulled up next to me while I was getting into position to forecaddie on the second hole.

“I used to caddie for these guys all the time. They’re great.”

“Yeah, it seems that way.”

“Has Mr. Looks-at-you-funny made a putt yet?”

“No, he just lipped out on the last hole. And he looked at me funny. Why?”

“You’ll see. I can’t remember what he says when he finally makes a big putt, but you won’t forget it. It’s hilarious.”

And then he drove off. What? What does this guy say that’s so funny? Well, now I REALLY had to make sure my green-reading was on point because I just had to see what the Caddie Master was talking about.

Just as an aside, I call the member “Mr. Looks-at-you-funny” because when he addresses you he isn’t really looking at you. He’s looking either THROUGH you or off at the mating squirrels.

So as the round progressed, there were a lot of close calls. Mr. Looks-at-you-funny hadn’t dropped one yet, but everyone else sure was. Two of the players were scratch golfers, one of them being an Assistant Pro from Indianapolis who likes the Colts, fishing and small dogs. The other was a former college baseball player with an injured rotator-cuff and a long list of marital problems. As I said before, these were GOB’s. By the 5th hole, I knew everything about them. But regardless of how Fluffy’s eating habits depressed the Assistant or how much the old college player missed his playing days, they were both making putts. And if I can read putts for scratch golfers and make them happy, I can read putts for anyone. At least for today.

About halfway through the round I had a bit of a revelation. In thinking about it, I have found that on average a golfer will only putt the ball on the line he has chosen 1 out of 5 times. Putts are pulled, pushed, toed, heeled, whatever, and that’s even before we talk about speed. So a golfer hitting the ball on the correct line with the speed I am envisioning in my wildest dreams (if you work out the math, assuming 36 putts a round and perfect speed) happens only 7 times a round. That means the other 29 putts are somewhat “missed,” and the golfer potentially thinks less of me 80.56% of the time. But if you also factor in that all of my reads aren’t necessarily “correct” (which of course we KNOW never happens), the number of putts made goes down even more, and the percentage of “displeasure” with my services goes up. And that’s just one golfer. If you factor in FOUR golfers, the results are somewhat discouraging: Using my basic “1 out of 5” hypothesis, you have a 1 in 625 chance that I have the correct read, ALL FOUR players hit the ball on the correct line, and all four balls have the optimal speed. That’s a 0.16% success rate. In looking at the numbers, green reading seems like not only an art, but a mathematical impossibility.

No wonder high-risk gambling in the casinos seems like a “sure thing” to caddies.

But surprisingly, I had a very good day with these guys on the greens. And even when I was a little off, they were very lenient with me because I had walked them through my thought process before they stepped up to the ball.

“What do you see here Tom?”

“This putt will be pretty quick. And if memory serves correctly, this slope here actually pushes the ball right. So I’m thinking a foot out on the left.”

“Really?”

At this point, I’m at the other side of the hole looking at it. Pause.

“Well, you know what? From down here it almost looks straight. I don’t see anything at all. Go left center.”

And sure enough, the ball went dead straight at the hole. At the last second, it turned 2 balls right and just grazed the edge of the cup.

“Well look at that.”

“Sorry. That was a good putt. It ended up being a little subtle there at the end.”

“No, don’t worry about it. You were right about that slope wanting to push the ball right. It was a good read.”

This is the kind of environment I like to have on the greens. I try to work as quickly as possible to get to everyone and read every putt if necessary, but I really enjoy a good learning environment too. I usually ask the players after a missed putt if they pulled it, pushed it, or felt like they hit it perfectly. Anything to get a hint at what it would feel like if I was stroking the putt and I was watching the ball roll toward the hole. Because let’s face it, you get a much better sense of what the greens are going to do if YOU are the one stroking the putts.

But even after everyone else had made at least two or three big putts, Mr. Looks-at-you-funny still hadn’t dropped a big one. We were about ready to tee off on 14. Mr. Looks-at-you-funny and his partner were two down and looking to press.

“Well, looks like it’s about that time, gents.”

“You just looking at me funny? Or do you wanna press us, boy?”

“Hee hee! Oh yeah. Consider yourself pressed.”

Now I was pulling for Mr. Looks-at-you-funny, but his opponents were on fire today. One was a scratch golfer and the other was a “12 handicap” that played to a 6. Now, if anybody else came to this course as a sand-bagger, they would’ve been given snide remarks and banned from the course by the end of the round. But because this guy was a friend and a GOB, all was forgiven and the foursome just joked about it.

“You know what I’m going to do 12-handicapper? I’m going to call your home course and see what’s what.”

“What are you talking about? I’m a 12 here.”

“Yeah right. And the three net-birdies you’ve had so far on the back-nine were just luck, right?”

“Yeah. Hehe!”

“Boy, you’re somethin’ else! Hehe!”

So Mr. Looks-at-you-funny needed to drop a big putt soon to capitalize on the press.

On this particular hole, his opponents didn’t manage their shots very well and under the match’s two-man-best-ball format had only a shot at 5 from 15-feet. But they drained it. Now Mr. Looks-at-you-funny needed to make his putt for a 5-net-4.

“Tom, what do you see here? About a cup?”

“Actually, I’m seeing more like 2-feet out on the right.”

“Really?”

I hated to offer a read that was THAT much more than his initial instinct, but I really did see almost 2-feet. I knew from past experiences that the ball dove right to left at the end, and 99% of the players attempting this putt never left the ball high enough to give it a chance.

There’s the putt. And bingo.

Right in the hole. Perfect speed. I was so excited that I wanted to start shouting, but at that moment I remembered what the Caddie Master had said on the 2nd hole. Mr. Looks-at-you-funny might say something memorable.

“Snap, crackle, cracker-jack-box-pop-fizz-oh-what-a-relief-it-is! Woooweeee!”

He pumped his fist and instantly sought me out for a congratulatory fist-mash.

“Great putt Mr. Looks-at-you-funny!”

“Great read caddie-who-can’t-read-a-putt!”

Oh, it was great. And it happened on 17 too.

“My boy Jack jumped over the candlestick! Yee-haw!”

And just as their putts dropped on 18, it started to rain, and we were finished.