GCRO: Golf Course Restoration Organization

This week, I'm back on familiar ground.
We – BP’s Gulf Coast Restoration Organization - are sponsors of the PGA Champions Tour Mississippi Gulf Resort Classic golf tournament at Fallen Oaks, which is run by the legendary Bruno Event Team out of Birmingham.
And that means I'm back in the familiar surroundings of a media tent, and seeing old friends like Dave Sanko of the PGA Tour; Tommy Hicks, columnist and golf writer of the Mobile Press-Register; and Gareth Clary, former golf writer  of the Press-Register but now editor of The Mississippi Press in Pascagoula.
Bill Oakley, also with the PGA Tour and part of the equally legendary Oakley family of Tuscaloosa (brother Mike is with Alabama Power, father Jim is communications professor at University of Alabama, son Will is a former Tide wide receiver now apparently thinking of a career in orthopedic medicine), is here.
Tuesday night I got to catch up to Gene Hallman and Ronnie Bruno, and introduce them to the big guys of BP who came in for the event.
And of course a number of the Champions Tour  pros that I've met in the years of covering the Brunos/Regions Classic in Birmingham, still the best Champions Tour event on the calendar.
The advantage this time of being part of one of the sponsoring companies is access to the 18th Green skybox, and getting to play in two Pro-Ams.
Tuesday I played with Chip Beck, a fellow Georgia grad whose son is married to the daughter of Parks Lee, friend of mine from Birmingham (another daughter, Rebecca, is a Furman grad who was instrumental in making my daughter feel so comfortable at school).
Beck was like one of the guys. He took videos of us hitting the ball and promised that he'd get them edited and send us copies with tips on improving our games. Go to ChipBeck.com to see what all he does.
I got to play Wednesday at the last minute with Mike Hulbert, when rain washed out the morning Pro-Am and they rescheduled the BP group for mid-day and the mayor of Biloxi, the legendary A.J. "All the Way"" Holloway had to leave to take care of city business.
Now, I'm not a good golfer. I've never had a lesson, and you can tell. My grip is too strong (left hand turned too much to the right); I hood my club head so that it looks like I'm going to hit the ball straight left; and I'm all arms, apparently.
Beck flattered me by saying I'm too good of an athlete to make the game that difficult. But somehow, my brain and hands adjust for all the flaws so that on impact my club head is somewhere near correct and I hit the ball relatively straight. I've also learned to compensate for the slight slice, although sometimes - to my frustration - the ball does go straight and I hit straight left.
I catch a lot of grief from the pros because I don’t have a driver, but tee off with a 3-wood. And it’s not just any 3-wood, but a Mizuno solid-head graphite wood, made back in the days when the golf companies were just starting to figure out all the things they could with the exotic compounds like graphite.
Since I generally hit the ball about 20 yards behind the guys who use their high-tech drivers, I don’t really mind. Beck and Hulbert both told me I’d be in front of those guys if I took advantage of technology, but I told them I am confident with my old Mizuno.
In fact, I told Beck I’d like a Mizuno graphite 5-wood, because my old 5-wood “disappeared’’ back on one of the times my car was stolen (I say “one of the times’’ because that car was stolen three times; it’s another story for another day).
Beck said, “Go on eBay and you will find one. But the cost of shipping will probably cost more than the club is worth.’’
Hulbert did the same thing. On the first tee box, he walks up and grabs my club and looks at it like it’s a dinosaur bone (although these guys are old enough to remember these clubs). I say, “Go ahead and laugh, but I like it.”
To which he shrugs and says, “That’s great, but you ought to at least get it re-gripped.”
Funny guys.

I don’t mind, because I’m pretty much a bogey golfer, which is good enough to not slow down the majority of people I play with. I’m usually good for a couple pars a round, and maybe a birdie.

Which leads me to another name-dropping golfing story.

Years ago I played in a Bruno’s Pro-Am with Bob Murphy, the former pro turned TV analyst who was back on the Champions Tour after overcoming severe arthritis.

The way these Pro-Ams work is that you get four guys and a Pro. The Pro plays from the professional tees, and the Ams hit from a little shorter tee box. The Ams play the best drive of the four, but then you play your own ball the rest of the way to the hole. The team score is the best score of the five. Since you count handicaps, I’m always valuable in these kind of tournaments because I always get a stroke every hole, and usually two strokes on each of the four toughest holes on the course – which means if, say, on a Par 5 I actually make par (which I did), it goes down as a 3 if it’s a hole on which I am entitled to two strokes.

Or, as also happened, if I make a birdie on a par 3 and I get one stroke, it goes as a 1.

Theoretically, if I were to make a hole-in-one on a Par 3 and got a stroke, I could make a zero. I’ve never done it, but it’s out there.

Anyway, I’m playing that day with Murphy and three other pretty good golfers. Two of the guys are former college players.

As the round progresses, Murphy is giving the other guys tips – slow down the swing, on this shot open the club face like that, move your thumb just a tiny bit here for better control, that kind of thing.

Finally, we’re on the 17^th tee box, a par 3 (we were playing a Tuesday Pro-Am at Old Overton), and I say, “Bob, I’ve walked along for 16 holes now listening to you give these guys advice all day, and you’ve haven’t done anything to help me.”

“Ray,’’ he said, “I’m only here a week. There’s not enough time to help you.”

Like I said, funny guys, these Champions Tour pros.

Reminds me of the best golf line I ever heard. You want to know why the pro always tells you to keep your head down when you hit the ball? So you won’t look up and see everyone else laughing.

But the Murphy story isn’t over.

I go to the tee and hit this beautiful 7-iron. It slices high and hard right, but hits a tree on the top of  a hill, drops down, bounces from rock to rock to cart path, with the last bounce sending it onto the green, where it rolls to a stop about six inches from the cup.

“Bob,” I said without looking at him, “maybe I don’t need your help after all.”

Thankfully, I didn’t two-putt.

I made birdie.

Which, with a stroke, gave me a 1.

And high-fives all around.