We rolled up to TPC Scottsdale on a perfect Arizona morning with blue skies, warm sun, and the kind of day that makes you forget what month it is back home. My buddy Andy was turning fifty, and there was no better way to mark the occasion than tackling the same course where the pros play the Waste Management Phoenix Open every February. This was first of three courses we had lined up in the Phoenix area.
The front nine, though? Let’s just say I was working through some things. My driver had opinions I didn’t agree with, my irons were sending the ball on scenic detours, and by the turn I was starting to wonder if I’d remembered how to play this game at all. Thankfully I found some semblence of a swing on the back nine. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was loosening up, but I was finally making solid contact and getting some compression. Fairways. Greens in regulation. A couple of putts that actually dropped. F’in golf, amirite?
What struck me most was how different the course feels without the tournament layout. The famous sixteenth hole, the one with the stadium seating, the one where 20,000 fans turn into the loudest gallery in golf was almost unrecognizable. Just a simple par 3 surrounded by grass and desert. Peaceful, even. It’s hard to imagine the roar when some pro throws a dart or the cat calls when they miss the green. I pulled an eight iron just left of the green and managed to get up and down with a deft pitch shot to three feet.
Walking those fairways on a quiet day, just a few friends and the sound of clubs hitting balls, reminded me why I love this game. No grandstands needed. Just a beautiful course, good company, and the hope that the next shot will be the one that finally does what you visualize.
Happy birthday, Andy. Fifty looks good on you. Let’s do it again next year.
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