Spot on as the criticism is about people spending too much time on the phone, there are occasions when the explanation deserves a hall pass.
For yours truly, an hour or more spent perusing through the iPhone photo library is liberating. It also plants seeds to help further grow an appreciation for golf travels that have brought introductions to immensely spirited people.
One clarification to that right away. Meeting Mike Strantz came in a transcendental manner. In his all-to-brief time on this earth (he died in June of 2005 at the age of 50), Strantz proved to have an impeccable eye for designing golf courses and trips to Caledonia and True Blue in South Carolina left me in awe at his talents.
But we never met.
Then came the first of many rounds at Monterey Peninsula CC’s Shore Course, an epic Strantz renovation, and, oh how my spirit felt connected. Utterly magnificent, this golf course, and the words of a golf-writing colleague, David DeSmith, summarized the last of Strantz’ work thusly for Links Magazine: “At MPCC he picked up the club’s existing Shore Course, shook it by its heels, and put it back down in 2004 as a completely different being . . . ”
Enchanted by the mesmerizing Pacific and invigorated by firm turf that took golf balls in magical routes, Strantz’ vision was so breathtaking that a photo-op could not be resisted. Climbing up on a perch where there is an outcropping of rocks – a spot where Strantz, his battle with cancer leaving him weary, would so often settle and pencil-sketch his vision of the MPCC holes – club members fittingly used that spot to put up a plaque in the great artist’s memory.
The plaque reflects Strantz’ words upon completion of his renovation: “And that is my vision for the new Shore Course: A thrilling and timeless golf course that springs from the striking beauty of rocks and grasses and wind-swept trees beside a powerful ocean.” And, yes, tears were choked back because his story, his work, his artistry – they were gifts in a life that ended far too soon.
That is why the photo was taken, so it could sit with many others and provide opportunities on future nights when moments would call on memories to be rekindled. The photo of rocks did the trick and so, too, did a fun picture of Michael Sims, the owner of a gentle and very deep soul.
He could play, Sims could, and talent took him from his native Bermuda to school in Florida then to the University of Rhode Island where he did wonderful competitive things for four years. That Sims never solved the mystery of the Korn Ferry Tour will forever befuddle me, but the greater is picture is how he has mastered the qualities of friendship and mentorship and helps young golfers find their ways in the game.
In my photo library, Sims is smiling beneath a hat that screams out, “Kindness. Pass it on” and how it’s easy to return the smile when my eyes cross over the image. In turn, it opens a rush of memories of those times in recent years when our paths crossed at a PGA Tour tournament in Bermuda.
His smile as warm as his golf game was sweet, Michael Sims has a deep soul and never fails to bright up the intersection at which you meet.
In yesteryears, to rekindle memories with photos was a process. First, did you even develop the film? Then, where was the album? Finally, were the photos yellowed? No such trouble with today’s cameras, so there’s easy-lifting when you feel like picking up your spirits.
Bandon Dunes fills me with wonder and two men epitomize the overflowing aura of the place. Bob Gaspar, aka “Shoe,” literally greets every visitor at the place and Grant Rogers, when he isn’t regaling you with all those 80s he shot while using just a putter, still teaches golf (and dishes philosophy, too).
You better believe there are pictures of “Shoe” and the guy with dozens of holes-in-one with using a putter on Bandon’s par-3, “The Preserve,” in my library. Good gracious are they fun to gaze at. To know Shoe has appeared in more selfies than a Taylor Swift groupie is one thing; to almost hear Rogers’ wisdom when you see the photo of him – “Never wait to be good, to have fun – and never lose sight of the fact that you’re doing something special.” – is quite another. Combined, the photos keep alive the specialness of these men.
All photos in my library that are connected to golf take me down different paths, but Jeff Dickson’s is most fascinating. He had regaled me with his story, how once he was burned out with golf, then fell back in love with it for a most beguiling reason: The passion to shape shots with drivers of various lofts and sizes pushed him head-first back into the game and to lend art to his story was an assignment he accepted without fail.
He aced the test, producing a photo of him with all six drivers tossed into the air.
Jeff Dickson doesn't need to decide between one of these drivers. That's because he carries all six with him -- and before you think he's crazy, understand that he probably has more fun playing golf than most people. The photo reminds me of how enjoyable it was to tell his story.
Jennifer Mills, a trailblazer for women in golf media, left her Golf Channel career with great dignity and blended into a quiet life as a painter in the North Carolina mountains. The photo she sent of herself -- putting brush to easel with the barn posing -- accompanied the story in “Power Fades” several years ago and still sits prominently in my library.
So, too, does the one of the entire Quigley family surrounding their hero, Devon Quigley. It was one of Devo’s last birthdays (he would die in October of 2023 at the age of 39, 12 years after a devastating car crash left him with traumatic brain injury), the summer atmosphere in Rumford, R.I., was festive, the smiles abundant. To know how much heartache enveloped the story should make me cry whenever the photo is looked at; instead, my faith somehow is perpetually restored because Charlotte Quigley, Devon’s mother, every day, every moment showed us what true love looked like.
There is a quaint picture of a bag of hickory clubs resting against a pine tree in my library. Instantly, it reminds of words that were written to tell of the serendipitous friendship between Boston acquaintances, Michael and Kimberly (Donovan) Soloman and a farrier in the Pinehurst area, Jay Mickel, who was a devotee of hickory clubs.
The beauty of the story is how Jay took a shine to the visitors, who were spending the pandemic in Pinehurst, and soon got Michael hooked on hickory.
To pause and study the photo is to remember how beautifully Michael took to hickory, and the joy that entered my life that day at Southern Pines when my path crossed with Jay's. There was pure appreciation in our voices. When Michael emailed last month to tell of Jay’s death at the age of 79, there was a sense of sadness, for sure, but also happiness for the countless hickory aficionados who could call Jay a friend, confidant, a mentor.
Photos are the most personal of joys, so to study those that include Karin Sagar, a Princess at Kapalua on the island of Maui; or the late Tim Rosaforte who covered golf with a style and grace; or countless frames that include Jay Haas, Bob Goalby, Billy Harmon, all of them men of rich substance; or even that offbeat one, a selfie taken with Tom Brady by one of my favorite golf characters, Michael Carbone . . . all of it is to remind me of a quote by esteemed photographer Annie Leibovitz.
“A think that you see in my pictures is that I was not afraid to fall in love with these people.”
Such an impactful sentiment. And it hangs with me as the search goes on and on in my photo library. Seems to me that never was there a fear of falling in love with these people’s stories.
