I'm a curious sort and truth be told, what remains of my Golf Bucket List is easily within striking distance . . . but I've still got an insatiable thirst for amusing quirk - whether it works or not.
My dear departed friend Rick Short (who some of the OG's knew in the early 2000's) was raised at Old Town, grew up in Winston Salem and had a friend in every top, upper crust club on the East Coast. Sort of a west coast Joel Stewart . . . . .
After graduating from Rocky Top U, he chased a girl named Sandy to San Francisco, joined Olympic and had the unfortunate luck of losing a game of Liar's Dice to this young, snotty Trojan at the bar, forcing him to have a drink with me - and endure 100 questions about golf on the mysterious East Coast.
Rick was really the seminal figure in leading me down the rabbit hole of golf history and architecture (circa 1986) - and spun the dial to make sure his adopted little brother saw all of it. He was also the one who predicted - knowing that my right brain had mostly grown over and eaten the left side - that I'd develop "a special affinity for this place called "National," although I had never heard of it.
Truth be told, the only reason I knew Shinnecock from poppycock was Tempo Raymundo winning the Open there - and reading "Golf Courses of the World" cover to cover, twice.
Yet, even having seen it all and not feeling well - he brought me to the Havermeyer Cup for one last run, just before the diagnosis I suspected was coming. Rick always made it a point to play as many different courses as he could - particularly tournaments at public tracks all over Northern Cal.
A lot rubbed off on me of course, but one thing that stuck was Rick's deep appreciation for what he used to call "A delightful muni." My experience tells me some of the most interesting design features - nutty or not, intentional or not - are sometimes the result of trying to make something work with no budget.
There is something terribly endearing about a scruffy public track, where the Superintendent is really a gardener - and the "Head Pro" doubles as the bartender on slow days.
It is here, in the true heart of golf, where you find lovingly messy ideas, where unusual things just sort of evolve over time - and no more need fixing or changing than the Pit at North Berwick.
These are the places to pull up a stool and hang with the local punters, solving the problems of the world - while trying to ignore the squawk at the end of the bar, still whining they raised the senior fees $2 at the end of last year.
Go to Cedar Links in Medford, Fall River Mills - or Boulder City GC, where in-house redesign meets Dadaism. Extra points for seeking out "executive length" courses like Deep Ciff in Cupertino, CA, Incline Mountain course or Indian Camp in Tulelake, CA. No, not every par-68 is going to remind you of Swinley Forest, but as a time-benefit analysis, I often get twice the entertainment value from taking a flier than enduring another Doak 4, indistinguishable from every other generic yawn.