Rookie Of The Year

So today was the day.

Today, I became a man. Or something to that effect. Today, a small luncheon and "skills challenge" was scheduled for the caddies' in lieu of payment for services rendered. So basically, that meant that we, the caddies, got an opportunity to hit some balls and compete against each other (an everyday occurrence anyway) put on a suit and tie, and then get a chance to walk through the clubhouse and visit an OPEN BAR. Yes, actually PLAYING the course would've been a little more desirable, but they've had some bad weather lately and the course is in some desperate need of repairs. But hey, free drinks and a walk through the clubhouse? Why the hell not.

So I arrive around 11 and am IMMEDIATELY nervous. Now, as much as I WANTED to hit balls recently and get my game in shape for playing the course, I was definitely side-tracked and missed out on a few buckets. I have my boss to blame for that. He threw a party last Saturday and I ended up "crashing" on one of his chairs in the living room. His house was STREWN with bodies the next morning. And just like Cosmo Kramer, I had my internal clock set for 6:15, hit the snooze a bunch of times, and finally ran out the door at 6:35 to see if I could actually pull off getting to work on time. And I didn't feel that bad until I rolled into work and found out that I would be caddying for none other than Mr. Nice-Guy.

The smile was instantly ripped from my face.

I mean, it's not like I would be giving him BAD service, but I definitely looked crappy. Beat up. I was running on 2-3 hours of sleep and I'm sure I still smelled like alcohol. Oh man. How could I let him see me like this?

But, it turned out to be a routine loop and before I knew it I was able to head back home and crash once more.

Just a random side note: it has come to my attention recently that I am drinking an awful lot these days. I think I have pulled more all-nighters since I dawned the bib than all of my four years' of college put together. Thank GOD I'm being promoted. Or...wait. Just because I'm not caddying doesn't mean my parties and drinking will cease. I'm still AROUND caddies. Oh man. These guys are insatiable. This means I'm going to have to come up with some sort of limit for myself or something. I don't want to die at 53 because I decided my liver would be happier FIGHTING FOR ITS LIFE every freakin' WAKING HOUR. So yeah. I'll get that squared away.

But anyway, back to today. So I get over to the range and the "skill challenge" is set up like so: An individual hits towards 4 greens of varying yardage. Greens are 103, 154, 203, and 263 yards away. You are given 2 balls for each green. Points are awarded for landing on the greens, and then you move onto the next station, which is a 40 yard pitch shot into a pool. If you land in the pool, it's 5 points, if you hit the side it's 2 points. Or something like that. I wasn't really listening when they were explaining it to me. Again, I was too NERVOUS to care. I was just concentrating on HITTING THE BALL. And today it was especially hard with these new eyes of mine. And the final station was very similar, with another pool being 80 yards away.

So I step up to the first station. I put one ball on the 103. One ball on the 154. Two on the 203. I'll NEVER figure that one out. You have to remember, I'm so nervous at this point (the head pro and all of his little assistants are observing, in addition to the 30-40 caddies waiting to compete) that I'm taking one more club into each green and aiming WAY left. I was just hitting these thin high fades that SOMEHOW found the greens. As for the 263, that was a joke. So according to the point system, I had 6 points after the first station. The leader was sitting pretty with 8 points. Now I was aiming at the first pool, 40 yards away. My first shot landed a little long and left of it, my second a little long and right, and my third landed short. So no dice. Still two down with 3 balls left to play. The Assistant pro tallying up my score chimed in.

"Now you're two points down Tom. You need to make something happen at this last station."

No shit Sherlock.

But to tell you the truth, that was all the encouragement I needed. At that moment, all of my anxiety and nervousness melted off of my body. It pooled at my feet and was dried up by that unrelenting bastard of a Sun. I was at ease. My first shot sailed right on line and landed 2 yards over my target. I smiled and took a deep breath. I could still feel the last swing. That meant I just had to take a little off of it, and this bastard was mine.

One-two. Like a perfectly timed pendulum, I caught the ball with a crisp down-swing and the ball sailed on the same line as before. The Assistant pro couldn't help himself.

"Oh baby. Be right."

I held my finish, and the ball dropped right into the pool. 5 points.

I high-fived the Assistant pro and proceeded to skull-chunk-shank my next wedge, but I didn't care. I had finished with 11 points and held the lead by 3.

After exorcising some more of my anxiety via various putting contests with the other caddies, it was time to head in and change for lunch. And what a lunch it turned out to be. Ribs, steak, mashed potatoes, seafood linguine, garlic rolls, plain rolls, Caesar salad, regular salad, pies three times the size of your head, strawberry short-cake, whoa. And that open bar? Clutch. I was stuffed after one massive plate. I was also pissed, because the food was so good that I wished I had like 5 stomachs to load up for the upcoming WEEK.

After the meal, the head pro came up with a microphone and said a few words, handed out some scholarships (some of the caddies had applied for scholarships to college--and yes, that is a VERY cool thing for the members of the course to make donations), and then got to the "skills challenge" results.

My score held up. I won. He called me up and I walked away with a cool pair of Oakley's for my trouble. Which is funny, because I've always wanted to have a pair just to SAY that I owned a pair. But I never actually wanted to BUY them. So this worked out nicely. But before I could step down and return to my seat, the head pro stopped me.

"Oh, now hold on a second. Now, Tom doesn't know this, but he's been named 'Rookie of the Year.' And I want to turn the mic over to his boss so he can say a few words."

I was shocked. I didn't even know such a title existed in this field.

"Now some of you may know this, but Tom's nickname around the caddie yard is 'The Franchise,' and I think he's called that because the other caddies know, just as I know, that he's easily one of the best caddies we've come across in a long time. He shows up 6-7 days a week, on time, he doesn't mind sitting around waiting for a loop, and he gets along with everyone. In fact, I have so much faith in this kid that I've already assigned him to work as an Assistant at one of my new accounts in Florida. I know he'll be perfect for the job. Congratulations Tom."

What a great day. And after the luncheon, the boss suggested that we all meet at a local bowling alley for some more pitchers. Most of us showed up, and it was a lot of fun. Yelling at each other, cheers ringing out for every strike, spare, or gutter ball. Good times had by all.

I tell ya. With days like these, why would I ever want to go and try to work an office job? I wouldn't trade these days for anything.