There are rare moments in golf where everything aligns perfectly; it is then that you truly see how enjoyable a pursuit the game can be. The most vivid expression of this for me personally was at Royal County Down in Northern Ireland. Prior to visiting, I knew little about the course and the club. (I try not to research things in advance, preferring to experience them first.) It was one of those instances where you knew there was buzz around it, and it was highly rated. I can be a non-conformist anyway—never one to trust the collective feeling around a golf course. However, having been there, I can report that the sentiment for Royal County Down is correct. This is the best golf course on earth. Not only that, our first round there was the most enjoyable of my life. Full stop.
Golf has a way of pushing you out of your comfort zone. You have to make fast friends with strangers and spend an extended time with them. A group might invite you to play through, and there you are, intimately teeing off in front of strangers who are watching with attention. The reality of golf (and life in general) is that no one is really paying attention to what you are doing. Play fast, and nothing else matters.
Some would say that convergence—when all aspects of your game are working well— in golf is everything. I’m not just talking about when your driver is working, and your putter is too. I’m talking about when everything aligns. Your game, the place, the people, and the weather. We are lucky if we have even had one of those days. That’s the harmony I seek in golf—it is far better and harder to find than just getting your tee shots in play and your putts in the cup. When everything comes together, it’s something of a golfing miracle. This has happened perhaps three times in the hundreds of rounds I have played in the last decade, and most recently, it happened the morning of my first round at Royal County Down. It was perfection in the moment, and it didn’t take a reflection months later to realize it. We knew this day was perfect while it was happening, and there are few things better.
We had some incredible caddies—all memorable in their own way—during our week in Northern Ireland. One thing I will say is that nothing complicates my golf course psyche more than the presence of a caddie. Every time I go to Hawai’i, I work on my game with my friend Oliver Jones. Over the years, Oli has helped me solve all sorts of physical swing problems, but these days, we mostly work on strategy and mental stuff. The last time I saw him, we spent 90 minutes just talking about how I feel when I play, what I think about when I approach the ball, and the anxiety (or comfort) I feel before a shot. This strategy conversation helped me unearth some deeply suppressed high school sports stage fright memories. It's startling stuff to see again for a man in his 40s. I realized that the more my game improves, the more I think I have to play well. If I were invited to a nice club for the first time, I would be nervous and feel the need to play well. Or if we had caddies, I would feel the pressure to show them I’m not a hack. Then, I would play poorly and be disappointed that I traveled all that way to hack my way around.
None of these things create the best environment for me to play to my ability, but the caddie thing was the most interesting of them all. I had to ask myself why I would stress about a caddie. I’m paying for them to help enhance an afternoon doing something I love. This is something I needed to solve. In a way, caddies are like doctors—they've seen it all, and nothing is going to shock them. Above all else, most are just trying to make sure you have a good time. It’s not that complicated. They want you to play well so you’ll be happy, and a healthy tip will flow.
At RCD, my caddie, Lockie, was about as chill as they come. He was calm, confident, and generally in good spirits—everything I could ever ask for in a caddie. Lockie and I hit it off instantly, and quickly into the round, I knew this would be one of my favorite days on a golf course. Nothing phased him, and his free-spiritedness allowed me to have one of the most enjoyable rounds of my life.
A few days later, I played with Ren (pictured above) at Portstewart, and again, we hit it off famously. Ren was positive and kind. His good nature helped make everything more fun than it would have been if he weren’t there. And that’s the goal: to add to the experience. Never have I been on a trip where the caddies added more than in Northern Ireland. I vividly remember each one of them (mostly for good reasons, some for dubious ones!) and how they enhanced my experience there.
I’m not one to want to compare places and experiences. It’s not always the famous place or the difficult invite that makes a day memorable. Your friends can make a day at a muni perfect in its own way. Sometimes, though, it’s just the way everything converges. And when that happens in Northern Ireland at Royal County Down, you rightfully count your blessings.
