BANDON, Oregon – Backdrops have changed from tree-lined to wind-swept and troublesome demands have constantly arrived in the form of high grass or water or sand or wind or an inability to hit a wedge off a tight lie to the most devilish of all, the false front.

And yet, all of it has been welcomed with such zeal and enthusiasm that the relentless quest to play golf burns constantly. To which you likely want to ask: Why?

Fair question. But it’s an easy answer: The people you meet.

Clayton Jimerson traded the grind of the gridiron for the beauty of Bandon Dunes.

Some embrace golf for the competition, for the challenge to post a score. Me? It’s all about the people. They have been cardiologists who have shown up on the first tee at Kiahuna Golf Course in Kauai, or an amateur golfer from Martha’s Vineyard who took a ferry to Cape Cod and slept in a bunker the night before a State Mid-Am qualifier.

They have enriched my world with friendship and regaled me with uncanny wisdom (“Laddie,” said the caddie walking off the tee at Tralee’s 588-yard, dogleg right par 5 as rain fell sideways and wind ripped apart umbrellas, “I want you to take this 3-wood and hit it and keep hitting it till I tell you to stop,” which I was able to do four whacks later, just shy of the green).

And most of all, they have constantly reminded me why this game is so beautiful and why pilgrimages to golf meccas like Bandon Dunes out here are utterly crucial.

You get to meet people like Clayton Jimerson.

He stands about 6-foot-6 and looks like he could step in and protect an NFL quarterback right now, which makes sense because that was his line of work for four years at the University of New Hampshire (Class of '20).

Now why did a kid from Madison High School in San Diego travel cross-country to the bucolic town of Durham, N.H.? The chance to play football, coupled with the offer of a scholarship, was too enticing to turn down.

Now what’s a former collegiate football player doing with golf bags slung over his broad shoulders fielding questions from golfers about how hard will a putt snap left? He’s smiling, that’s what. Widely, radiantly, and persistently.

And he’s willing to let you in on his secret. “I always loved golf,” said Jimerson. “I always knew I’d be involved in it. Golf has so many great aspects to it.”

The kid had a passion for baseball. But unmistakable was how his size matched his gridiron talent; Jimerson played quarterback early in high school, moved to tight end, then was turned into a left tackle. “Huge upside,” reported UNH coach Sean McDonnell back in 2016, “because of his athleticism and wingspan.”

Nothing was mentioned of Jimerson’s single-digit handicap, or how his game was nurtured at Riverwalk Golf Club in San Diego, or how he polished his skills thanks to a brilliant initiative called Youth on Course. Nor was there anything about him playing three years of varisty golf at Madison.

But all of that was true and all of it was owed to his grandfather, Ron Harris. “He got me into the game (and) gave me my first set of irons when I was 12 and I’ve been playing ever since.”

Oh, these days Jimerson plays to scratch, often on one of the five glorious 18-hole courses that comprise Mike Keiser’s majestic vision high above the Pacific. And between all the advice Jimerson provides to golfers, he interjects what his grandfather once said to convince him golf was in his future.

“I loved baseball, but my grandfather told me, ‘In golf, you’re always at bat and never have to play the field,’ ” said Jimerson with a laugh.

He spreads his arms (ah, coach McDonnell, you’re right about that wingspan), nods toward the Pacific where waves are crashing and Jimerson said, “this is my office and I get to come here every day.”

It is a double-bag day at Sheep Ranch, the newest of the five firm-and-fast layouts that draw golfers by the thousands. Golf is booming from coast to coast (at 95, Ron Harris even plays twice a week), but nowhere is it more vibrant than here – and the tee sheets at Bandon Dunes, Pacific Dunes, Brandon Trails, Old Macdonald, and Sheep Ranch can prove it.

That golf did enjoy a boom even as the COVID pandemic crushed businesses elsewhere was serendipity for Jimerson. His job helping youth sports organizations in his native San Diego was eliminated early in the pandemic and that prompted a trip to Bandon Dunes where he had contacts and friends.

“I fell in love with it,” said Jimerson, who stands on the green at the cozy little par 3 16th and admires the sound of crashing waves. Borrowing a line from Ernie Johnson’s wildly popular video made to the Alabama football team, Jimerson says: “This is a ‘Get to,’ not a ‘Got to’ job. I get to have this opportunity.”

The holes have flown way too quickly, a compliment to the marvel of Sheep Ranch and the pleasure of Jimerson’s company. But on the walk down the 18thfairway, he wants to know if it’s OK to ask a question. Yes, he is told, so he asks: “I’m always interested in knowing from my players what you know now that you wished you knew at 24.”

A pause, then a truth that always simmers within. “I wish I was as grateful for what I had when I was 24 that I am now,” is the answer I offered to a young man who had just brightened four-plus hours of my life.

He said he liked the answer, which was nice of him.

But I’m thinking Jimerson is already there, that he’s genuinely grateful for what he has. More poignantly, I’m also thinking how lucky golf is to have him and so many people like him.