GRANDPA ROPER'S ROUND: THE FLIPSIDE OF GOLF HATERS

by Doug McAllister

A few posts back I spoke of golf haters and told the tale of how my paternal grandfather was one the first I ever encountered. But that's okay. To each his own. I was recently reminded of how my maternal grandpa spent his first day on the course, an event that, to this day, will always bring a smile to my face, regardless of how bad I may have been hitting it on my most recent outing.

Vernon B. Roper was a content man. I can't spell it out any better than that. Circumstances deprived him of most of life's greater professional opportunities but you never heard him complain about it. His became a lifelong railroad engineer. Years navigating the rails for Union Pacific. Hard work. Would have been all too easy to simply let everything go and accept his place as a typical blue collar hero. Instead, he went about educating himself in every way he could possibly think of. He read everything he could get his hands on, was curious about everything and wasn't afraid to try new hings.

Which brings us to golf. Grandpa Roper had reached the apex of life's middle years and was gliding contentedly down the other side when he first tried golf. As is often the case when children attempt to buy a parent something new and different for a birthday, a range of possible gifts was discussed. In the end — you guessed it — the family determined that golf clubs would be a great gift.

And so it was that the birthday rolled round. A set of clubs was presented, along with plans for the first formal outing. Naturally, the venue was just up Grandpa's beloved Springville Canyon, a truly remarkable course called Hobble Creek.

You need to understand Hobble Creek, then and now, is anything but a "pitch-and-putt" track. Narrow fairways, tightly bordered by tall trees, favor exceptionally well-placed shots. To make matters infinitely more interesting, Hobble Creek — the stream from which the course gets its name — winds back and forth and back again over much of the course, forcing the prudent player to carefully choose clubs that will keep his golf ball dry. Once, my father-in-law, when asked whether he would like to come and play Hobble Creek, smiled and impishly noted, "I don't have the balls to play that course!" An eloquent assessment. In short, Hobble Creek was an exercise in advanced golf to which, some might have said, Grandpa was being led like a lamb to the slaughter. The stage was set for his first and, very likely, last round of golf.

What transpired, though, was a game of golf fit to inspire any and all who play this sometimes maddening game.

The first hole, as I was informed, played out fairly well. Not a par by a long shot, but no significant damage done. The second hole, a short par four, was where potential troubles should have begun. Despite its short length, the second is the first of numerous holes where the golfer gets to stare Hobble Creek, the stream, right in the face, the mountain brook traversing the fairway twice. No roll up shots here. And no worm burners — often the shot du jour of many a first timer — as these would find the stream just a few yards from the tee. It was suggested that a 7 iron from the tee might be a good choice for Grandpa.

Call it beginner's luck but Vernon Roper struck a near-perfect 7 iron — not terrifically long, given the length of the hole, but straight down the fairway. After the hearty congratulations were handed out, all in the group headed off for their next shots. When they reached Grandpa's ball, owing to the nice stroke he had made to get it there, it was suggested that he might try a 4 iron — enough to carry the stream on the other side and put himself in a position to chip his third to the green.

But an interesting thing happened. Grandpa's take on things was different. Why not stick with what works? Hadn't he just hit a nearly perfect shot with a 7 iron? Why rock the boat? It was quickly explained that a set of golf clubs includes fourteen different members in order to effectively address the numerous lies and scenarios encountered in a typical round of golf.

But, despite the best explanations possible, Grandpa Roper proceeded with his new favorite club. In fact, he hit every single shot for the rest of the round — whether on the long par 5's or the short par 3's — with his 7 iron. And, while his score (which he didn't keep) may have been an embarrassment to an obsessed golf aficionado, he came away from the round beaming. I had many chances to talk golf with him on various occasions after that. He always spoke glowingly of that first 7 iron and his first round at Hobble Creek.

The moral of the story: there is far more to enjoying golf than going low and perfect drives. More to it than pars, birdies and, occasionally, eagles. While these add considerable interest to the experience, I can't help but believe that Grandpa Roper got it right from the start and took it with him thereafter.

So next time your out for a classic round, remember the example of a contented old gentleman, making his way happily around a difficult course with a 7 iron on every shot. Every once in a while the quality of a shot trumps the length.

Keep that in mind and...

Hit 'em long (even by a 7 iron's standards) and straight!