Audrey worked as hard as a looper lugging a Burton leather bag uphill at Oakmont in the summer, and was understandably wrecked to say the least… but something was wrong.
The jovial “we’ve done this a hundred times this month” attitude of the OB and nurses vanished. His umbilical chord was wrapped around his neck and every second mattered. I was too scared to lend any sort of support I’m embarrassed to say and the combination of Audrey’s strength and the Ivy League education of the Doctor and the ice-in-the-veins calm of the nurses pulled it out in the end.
I assure you Jack never made a 4-footer to win a major with more quiet confidence.
His little brother David came along just a few weeks later with a lot less fanfare but an equal amount of hard work by his Mother. Fulfilling my part with the style and aplomb my friends have come to expect, I inhaled a nice piece of cherry pie in the cafeteria a few minutes before the delivery. Never let it be said I didn’t shine at the moment of truth with gritty determination…no ice cream on the pie but a half pack of Marlboro Lights outside the maternity ward.
A few days later on the way back to the hospital I informed Big Bro that we were heading to McDonald’s and then would be retrieving Mom and baby brother to bring them home. “Oh No” said The Heir…we could visit them but no way was The Spare coming home with us…and he was serious.
It seems as I write this that I’ve made a slight error. They weren’t born this year…it only seems that way to a me. They are in fact almost 18 and almost 15…an Eagle Scout and a soon to be Eagle Scout. A 4.0 + student looking at colleges and an equally good student upstairs either playing his violin or his Stratocaster….two respectful, smart boys who always have the time to help with no questions asked.
Don’t let anyone tell you the youth of today are in trouble…I have mine and know many of my friend’s kids who prove they are better than we were in every way.
Where in the world has it gone?
It’s Spring Break. As long as my boys have been alive Masters Week has been Spring Break. I spent the first few days in Augusta with clients having fun, drinking Kettle One and Silver Oak…rare beef and bluebird sky rounds of golf with a caddie.
No complaints to be sure, it was important to the business…and just plain crazy fun.
It occurred to me about the middle of last summer though that in a very short time they will be off on the adventure that is the rest of their lives…not mine, but theirs…and they had never been to The Masters.
I on the other hand had become bored with it. Too much trouble with the traffic and the crowds…I was too cool to care…what a spoiled brat I had become.
Thankfully though I woke up from my near-end-of- round nap and am taking them this year on Thursday. The irony of it being Tiger’s reboot isn’t lost on any of us. His first day back will be my first day walking down the hill at 10 with my boys…circling down 11 and at 12 and, if there’s room, hanging out in the grandstand for a couple hours. My hope is we will share our first pimento cheese sandwich there. This is about us.
I’ll say “Hogan always waited to feel the breeze on his cheek before teeing of on #12” sounding smart and not knowing or caring in the least if the legend is true. We’ll sit by 16 green, trudge up 17 and 18, and head home.
Don’t wait…next post, The Masters Report.