A reprise of Barona - or even Stevinson Ranch might work. Here is one out of left field that I guarantee would knock everybody's dick into their watch pocket for pure adventure:
Everybody convene in San Francisco and caravan north.
1st Stop: Bodega Bay - full blast climb into the clouds and a wild tumble all the way to the foggy beach. Maybe not a great golf course, but an opening gambit guaranteed to start an argument.
2nd Stop: Sea Ranch - up the windswept coast 90 minutes to a terrific golfing outpost. Renting a couple roomy houses within walking distance is cheap and easy. Personally, I love this course; in the interest of full disclosure, the back nine was designed and built by our Neal Meagher some years after Bob Graves completed the front side.
3rd Stop: On the way home, a quick nine holes in the redwoods at Northwood in Monte Rio. An unknown Mackenzie gem that gets little notice.
Since there is no driving involved after golf, I envision a margarita blast around a fire pit, cooking obscenely large and juicy steaks, washed down with a parade of spicy Zins and Cabernets so nasty-ass they torch your nose hairs with a single sniff.
Thick sweaters, flasks of single malt and a post-match skins game with dollar junk, officiated by Pete Lavallee in his inimitable courtly manner.
A gathering of such gravitas that even the Evil Leprechaun makes his triumphant return - in a match against Barny in which Huck kicks his ass 7-6.
Huntley will be picked up from his castle and transported with the group, serving as Honorary Team Captain for both sides (to ameliorate the inevitable squabbling over him).
Dan King will preside as, well, King. Named Dan. Except like waaaay skinnier than before.
A moment of silence before every match shall be observed in memory of Tiger Bernhardt, followed by a mandatory dram or two at the turn. Hopefully the chick behind the bar is hot, because gawd knows John was a connoisseur of both.
That is all.