Having accompanied both the author and the photographer around this living museum of golf course architecture, it's great to see such a thorough profile posted.
It should be known that playing alongside Jon Cavalier, while he inconspicuously recorded these beautiful images, was a pure joy. Jon is a proverbial "kid in a candy store" and resides in the respectful rapture of these hallowed grounds.
Not so much with Golf's most
(bitter ) beloved. He arrives trash talking before even the stepping onto the first tee. His slow, confederate-style, barely audible, drawl was droning on from the parking lot in! I was only lucky that Randolph didn't violate the club's quiet and respectful decorum with another pretentious entrance stepping out from the pimped-out Black Mamba! Good thing he left that behind in N.C.
The day was ultimately his however. Despite departing with a smile and a spring in my step, my game that day was undeniably missing-in-action, plagued with double crosses, pull-hooks, pathetic fades, and power outages. I simply wasn't finding fairways or greens, although once finally aboard the latter, my putting skills were demonstrably better on those vaunted Tilly greens and was easier to watch than Ran's.
No matter how bad I hit it that day, I was still very much alive in our match....testament to how mediocre a player Morrissett truly is....was that day! Down from the very first hole, it actually went to the 17th hole before I closed myself out!
Our host, a good friend and strong player who effortlessly crushes it, was bored beyond belief having to baby-sit two chops duking it out on his turf. His respect for a new guest was all that stopped him from making fun of Ran's game (my game has always been the target of his laughter!). I think he's still recovering from that afternoon.
As I sit here, post Achilles surgery in a boot cast, I won't make any excuses for losing to Randolph...only to say, it'll be a single-minded, tightly-focused goal to return to health to kick his skinny arse all the way back to the farm!
I'll give golf's most beloved one bit of credit. His words and observations about a place as special as Somerset Hills are unparalleled. The club, it's members and staff and Renaissance Golf have done a magnificent and understated job of preserving this gem. They've finally taken it from a state of shabby chic to a beautiful and eminently playable modern existence. The game is lucky to have it reflect all the risks and rewards that A.W.Tillinghast bestowed onto this property.
Let the clock start ticking for Ran's (gloating) response. It's as inevitable as the sun rising on a new day, or Ran making poor political (and automobile) choices. 