Caddies, as was discussed
in a prior post, are a dying breed. Yes,
every pro has one, but in the not too distant past, every golfer at a country
club was required to take one as well.
“Looping” or carrying the bag around the loop (or course) was a way of life
for many folks with no other access to the country club life. And it
was a great way to make some extra income for students in the summertime.
It's a lost art and a fading profession. It used to be that every private course had a
corps of men ready to shag your bag.
Caddies have been victims of the technological age. In their desire for comfort and a wrongheaded
notion of speeding up the game, carts have replaced caddies like the Model T
replaced the horse and buggy in an earlier era.
(I find it ironic that the Masters Tournament was roundly criticized for
forcing the tournament golfers to use the club's caddies exclusively up until
the 1980s. The caddies were almost
exclusively black, and there was a bit of controversy about the fact that all the golfers were white
and all the caddies black. Now, spot
the black caddy at the Masters or any other PGA tournament for that matter and
win a prize. The lily-white sport is now
lily-white on both sides of the bag.)
They Were White Back Then, Too |
This is
a shame, for many reasons, not the least of which is the oral tradition of
great golf stories lost by the demise of the caddy. So I went on a search for the World's Oldest
Working Caddy, the man who has seen it all.
I found him, still shagging bags and walking rounds at a respectable
country club in Westchester County, New York.
He had seen them all, from Bobby Jones and Sarazen to Snead, Hogan and
Nelson, Palmer and Nicklaus to Watson to Tiger Woods. Of course, he had seen his fair share of
duffers, too. Working at country clubs,
most if not all were of the Caucasian variety.
And this was this his favorite song
HIT THAT FUNKY
GOLF BALL, WHITE BOY
Original Song:
Play That Funky Music
Author/Composer:
Rob Parissi
Publisher: Epic
I used to be a caddie,
shaggin' for the
white boys all day
I never had no
problems, no
At least the
white boys know how to pay
Then everyone I
looped for
Was hittin'
every shot out of bounds
So I decided
quickly
To open up and
say what I'd found
Cause they were
hackin' and swingin'
and rippin' up big divots
And just then
one hit me
And so I shouted
out
Why don't you
hit that funky golf ball, white boy
Hit that funky
golf ball real straight
Hit that funky
golf ball, white boy
Pitch it and
putt it and hit those practice buckets
'til its right
At first it
wasn't easy, keepin' work and speakin'
my mind
I just knew I
wasn't gonna
Keep kissin'
those white boys' behinds
But now it's so
much better
Drivin' those
carts most every day
And I'll never
lose that feeling
Of how I gave a
lesson that day
Cause they were
hackin' and swingin'
and rippin' up big divots
And just then
one hit me
And so I shouted
out
Why don't you
hit that funky golf ball, white boy
Hit that funky
golf ball real straight
Hit that funky
golf ball, white boy
Pitch it and
putt it and hit those practice buckets
'til its right
AMDGTM
©
2012-14 R.E. Kelly