Land’s End

Some of you may recall from previous posts that my “home” golf course is Gleneagles, a difficult 9-hole track located in McLaren Park that is both feared and loathed by many local golfers. However, I never realized until now that people’s impression of the golf course and the park in which it’s located are pretty similar (at least as expressed on Yelp). People seem to love both places for their undeveloped “wildness” or they hate them for their undeveloped “trashiness”. Some of this, I’m sure, has to do with the fact that they’re located in a “less than desirable” neighborhood – bounded as it is on one side by the Sunnydale Housing Projects.

I guess you know which side I come down on. I love the park for dog walking because there are so many unmarked trails and paths you can take, many of them offering wonderful views of the city and bay. Here’s a picture I took this week of our dog Midnite and a typical McLaren Park scene.

I love Gleneagles because it tests both your game and your character. In most places, you’re hitting a shot where the ball is above or below your feet or up or down a hill. The fairways are narrow and tree-lined and the grass is usually much better in the rough than in the fairway. Because of the prevailing weather conditions and wind, it’s almost impossible to keep enough sand in the bunkers – so you’re often playing from a ”veneer” of sand over hard pack. The greens are very small (by modern standards), they’re tilted, sloped, or two-tiered, and they all have minor undulations and very subtle breaks. I could go on, but if you’re a golfer, you get the picture. The funny thing is, every year when I watch the British Open (particularly when it’s played on a Scottish course), I realize that places like Gleneagles are more like what the Scots intended when they invented the game. In the U.S., we’ve  come to expect a golf experience that includes perfect tee boxes, manicured fairways, flat lies, perfect sand, and large, relatively flat greens – conditions that leave very little to chance or whimsey. The older, more traditionally designed courses test one’s character because they aren’t always “fair” and they punish mistakes.

Sorry for digressing, but I wanted to give you some background on my chosen topic. A friend of mine who shall remain nameless refuses to play at Gleneagles anymore. He considers it “too much” (you can decide what that means). Anyway, during a recent round at a “stereotypical” golf course, I was explaining how playing regularly at Gleneagles prepares one for virtually any misfortune that he or she might encounter on the course. He rolled his eyes and told me that in his opinion, Gleneagles regulars like myself were part of a cult. I thought about it for several days and later mentioned it to a few of the regulars at the “Eagle”. Most everyone agreed that my friend was right.

According to the dictionary, a cult is: 1) a particular system of [religious] worship, esp. with reference to its rites and ceremonies; 2) a group or sect bound together by veneration of the same thing, person, ideal, etc. ; and 3) a group having a sacred ideology and a set of rites centering around their sacred symbols. If you look at how I described Gleneagles above, you could say that the definition of a cult does apply. If like my friend, you’ve played there, particularly in a “rabbit”, “skin game”, or other type of unoffical competition (our “rites”) – you would definitely agree with him. In fact, Gleneagles regulars know almost on sight, who is a “player” and who is not.

I hope you haven’t taken any of this seriously because it’s intended as fun. On the other hand, have you ever wondered if you have what it takes to be a member of a cult?