Carnoustie Golf Links
By Marshall Carder
Bert had agreed to drive us around the council area of Fife up to Carnoustie (in the council area of Angus) and arrived very early the next day to collect us for the hour ride. We were well rested but full of anticipation and downright fear of facing such a tough course, but at the same time we had just played three straight days on the most hallowed ground in golf, so we almost felt like we were going to be able to handle it.
On the Old Course
By Marshall Carder
As the sun rose the next morning, we were all up already. There was very little banter, for we were all a little tired and perhaps a bit nervous about what we were about to undertake. So, with all of our hopes and dreams hanging in the balance, we emerged from our beachfront home and started the walk toward the course.
St. Andrews!
By Marshall Carder
And so we set off for St. Andrews. The train up from Liverpool was particularly eventful and certainly would have made for some lively and interesting conversations among the local English folks, if they were naturally inclined.
The dream emerges
By Marshall Carder
As the weekly rounds turned into years, the bonds between everyone grew despite all of the on-course antics. There were many scenes of high drama, like the time Brooksie told Christian after a round that he had better seek professional help because he was the craziest person Brooksie had ever met, which was saying a whole lot considering his background in psychology and Synanon. You see, Wells had adamantly disagreed about the final resting place of one of Brooksie’s balls and a full-blown shouting match had ensued complete with all manner of denigration. And normally that type of behavior could have resulted in a parting of ways, but for Golfers it meant nothing after the next t-time was made. Such is the power of the game.
