GHIN
A year ago, my best friend, Chris, texted me asking if I’d be interested in going on a Scotland golf trip that his brother, Stefan, was putting together. Their mom wasn’t in great health, and dealing with that reality helped them realize how important it is to seize the moment while you can because tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. It might seem like a cliché until life kicks you in the stomach, and then it feels like the only logical choice:
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It was an expensive trip, but it felt important for a lot of reasons. If there is one rule I try to let guide my friendships, it’s that you show up for your people. The times that I’ve made a different choice, whether it was based on work or finances or convenience, I’ve always regretted it after the fact.
In addition, I’d never played The Old Course and didn’t know when an opportunity to do so might present itself. If you write and talk about golf for a living, and you haven’t played the most important course in the world, you can’t help but feel a bit of imposter syndrome. The company we’d hired to put together our itinerary, Hidden Links, made getting on the Old Course seem like a sure thing, saying they’d never had a problem getting groups on in 20 years, so for a good six months I couldn’t resist telling people: “I’m off to Scotland this summer to play The Old Course!”
I booked a flight to Edinburgh and dreamed of what line I’d take over the hotel on the 17th when my chance finally arrived.
I should have suspected my trip might be (slightly) cursed when summer storms delayed my flight out of Baltimore on Aug. 3 for two hours, meaning I’d miss the flight from Boston to Edinburgh. Remembering what happened last year on the way to the Open in Liverpool, where Virgin Atlantic held my golf clubs hostage for a week, I had to beg Delta Airlines to get my checked bags off the Baltimore to Logan flight, knowing if my bags got sent to Boston without me, I’d likely never see them in Scotland. Because of my AirTag, I could see they were still on the plane, and the automated Delta baggage chat in the app was absolutely no help. (I don’t have status like TC does, but I do have some, and it’s still a nightmare to try and get a real person on the phone when you have a problem.) After an hour of standing in line, the baggage people at BWI mercifully pulled my clubs and suitcase off the plane, and I glumly returned to my house, waving goodbye to a tee time at Carnoustie I was going to miss because of the delay.
The next afternoon, I boarded another flight, this time going to Edinburgh with a connection through Atlanta, confident that the worst of my travel woes was behind me. My flight to Edinburgh was delayed for two hours, but at midnight, we finally boarded and set out over the ocean. I had an email from Hidden Links informing me that our group had not been selected in the initial application to play The Old Course, but not to worry because we still had two chances left. At least my flight delay hadn’t killed that dream, or I might have sobbed into my beer at Legal Sea Foods at Logan Airport.
Three hours into our flight over the ocean (my brain a little fuzzy and likely half asleep) the captain informed us that he was reluctantly going to have to turn the plane around and land in Boston. (The flight tracker showed we were somewhere over Nova Scotia.) A woman on the flight needed medical attention.
We hear a lot about how people are selfish these days, and I think social media typically gives us a window into our worst selves, but I was impressed at how understanding everyone on the flight was. Our plans were being upended, certainly, but no one who isn’t a raging asshole believes their tee time or their vacation is worth someone’s life. We just wanted the women — whom the majority of us could not see — to be okay.
Our new flight to Edinburgh wouldn’t leave for 16 hours, but Delta offered us a $36 food voucher as a panacea for our troubles. I waved goodbye to rounds at The New Course and also Kingsbarns. I asked Delta if I might get a day pass to the Sky Club, even offering to purchase one at essentially any cost, and they said no. They also shot down a hotel. It was not their fault I’d been delayed.
My friends in Scotland expressed their bafflement at my bad luck. Hidden Links sent us an email saying we had not been selected in the second round of private applications for The Old Course.
After 16 hours of sleeping intermittently on the floor at Logan, it was time for a group of zombie travelers to board our flight to Edinburgh. I watched Challengers on the flight (enjoyed it!) but the entire time, I contemplated whether I was actually landing in Scotland or if I’d be stuck in a time loop forever.
Mercifully, we finally landed in Edinburgh, where I decided to rent a car to catch up with my group of friends because Hidden Links told me I should just Uber (on my own dime) and that it was not possible for them to get me to St Andrews, despite having paid for transportation as part of the package. Renting a car for the week cost essentially the same as a one-way taxi, so I jumped at that. (I’ve seen those commercials, and while I didn’t expect Nick Faldo to pick me up in a helicopter, it didn’t strike me as too much of an ask to book me a taxi, but alas it worked out better in the end.)
I finally arrived in St Andrews that afternoon, and since my friends were off playing Kingsbarns, I decided to see if I could play The New Course. I had, after all, already paid for a tee time I didn’t use. Perhaps they would honor it?
The Links Trust informed me that, sorry, I would have to pay another 140 pounds and see if Hidden Links might refund me on the back end. It was about that time that Hidden Links sent another email informing me that my group had not been selected to play The Old Course for the third straight day, but I was now welcome to enter the singles queue lottery.
I did not weep, but a part of my sleep-deprived brain considered it.
Thankfully an NLU reader named Joe recognized my lumpy frame and graying beard and asked if I’d like to join his group on the New Course, and despite having slept on my feet for three straight days, I somehow shot a 39 on the front nine. (Jet lag and the wind got the best of me on the back nine.) It was a lovely afternoon and one that I’ll always be grateful for, punctuated by one of the best birdies I’ve ever made, a 6-iron to three feet on the 9th hole.
(After I hit the shot, I hit the “Had To Do It To Em” pose for the camera.)
The 9th tee at The New Course.
I also, for the first time in my life, got to take some TIO relief on the 18th when I yanked my approach left and got to take a line-of-sight drop from some of the infrastructure that’s up for the AIG Women’s Open.
Left of 18 green at The New Course.
But it was hard not to think about The Old Course as I went to dinner that night (finally meeting up with my group) at the Rusacks Hotel, which overlooks the 18th fairway.
It used to be if you wanted to play The Old Course, and you couldn’t afford to pay a travel company like Hidden Links to try and secure you a spot in line, you just had to want it badly enough to make it happen. You could show as a single at the Old Pavillion near the first tee the night before, enter your name, and if you were willing to essentially camp out on a bench until dawn, you could get a tee time. They were handed out (based on availability) in order of how soon you got into the queue. It was a little insane, but also charming and democratic, and if that option still existed, I would certainly have done it, like thousands of golfers before me.
It no longer works that way, however. As a single, you enter the ballot for the following day electronically on an iPad and your entry is now randomized. In theory, someone who shows up at 9 a.m., when the ballot opens, h
Source: https://nolayingup.com/blog/ghin-and-tonic-vol-15-kvv
