Grounds and Gardens and Golf

            I grew up in a log cabin off a dirt road east of Tallahassee, Florida. My family grew all types of small crops, including, but not limited to, tomatoes, peppers, squash, corn, peas, carrots, onions, peas, green beans, potatoes, cabbage, collard greens, and okra. Never fear, this is not an Abraham Lincoln story. Our cabin had three bedrooms, a spacious study, a grand piano, and all the comforts that indoor plumbing could provide. We had cable TV and a Nintendo, but gardening as a central activity was baked into our household.

What is groundskeeping anyway, if not gardening? Ashley Young—owner and operator of The Fields Golf Club in LaGrange, Georgia—implies that farming (aka agronomy) is one of the three low-margin businesses at the heart of running a golf course. Who am I to question the wisdom of one who does that so well? Their midsummer blackberry crop speaks for itself.  

My father Joe continues to be a first-rate gardener in his retirement; and we gained that in common as we grew older. Though Joe isn’t a golfer, he does appreciate good gardening in its planning and execution: a trait he passed on to me not only genetically, but through countless afternoons helping to plant, weed, and harvest. By the time I was 10, he entrusted me with his Ford riding lawnmower, and that’s when I knew I had arrived.

For me, mowing became a gateway to golf. Shortly after taking up the honor, I read from a slim happenstance volume about a kid hitting shots through yards on his way to school. I could feel the dew on my toes and smell the dirt beneath the divot torn from where “the secret” lay. The book was Ben Hogan’s Five Lessons, and the Hawk had me hooked from then.

While starting a career and family, I abandoned my seat on the mower and my spot on the tee sheet. It was a no-brainer to shell out $150 per month for weekly cuts from Noah, our neighborhood’s teenage entrepreneur. Eventually, Lawnmower Noah headed off to college debt-free, assisted by our neighborhood fees and—I’m sure—by the proceeds of selling his groundskeeping equipment. Out of inertia, we hired a landscape company, and then the pandemic hit. At first, our contractor scrambled to cover us with Covid-reduced staffing, but we soon got word they were dropping all residential accounts. Luckily, I had experience and family nearby with spare yard tools.

The author and his father, Joe.

Thanks to Google, geolocation, and behavioral targeting, I zeroed in on Stihl’s rechargeable line of power yard tools—available at your local ACE Hardware. Because my wife and I share an IP address, I received a Stihl BGA-57 blower for Father’s Day 2020. For the cost of one quarter’s landscaping, I returned my in-laws’ borrowed Craftsmans (Craftsmen?) and got the FSA 57 weed whacker, HLA 56 hedge trimmer, and RMA 460V self-propelled push mower. Various algorithms funded by Stihl International, GmbH of Waiblingen, Germany—and probably NewClub Golf Society—continued to lead me to a fountain of groundskeeping content. I kept coming back to The Bag Drop, undoubtedly soothed by the smooth professional delivery of Matt Considine. While mowing, I listened intently to his interviews of Rob Collins, Ashley Young, Tom Doak, Brent Roberson, and others on groundskeeping and design.

Fittingly, I joined NewClub in the middle of 2021. Groundskeeping again led me to golf, but in a more thoughtful way. I took stock of the books I had missed and compulsively read: Anatomy of a Golf Course, A Season in Dornoch, Zen Golf, A Course Called America, The Little Red Book, and others. They’ve definitely got thicker since the Ben Hogan book, but they also have a depth I couldn’t appreciate before that led me to ask tough questions. What’s the balance between playability and sustainability in maintenance? How do we maximize sustainability in golf—environmentally as well as socially? What does it mean to practice stewardship of this game? How do we build an inclusive community? What can any of us do right now to press these ideas into reality? For my part, I hopped on the NewClub app and found the weekday games I forgot existed; creating community with people who—I still can’t believe it—ask themselves these same questions.

I long suspected that chasing different irons, different courses, or different clubs was not the point of golf. Rather, the point is to play better golf regardless of how “better” is measured by each individual. For me, it is enjoyment, which is at an all-time high. I suspect the same is true for most of our community. Instead of experiencing golf in terms of scores, cocktails, and prestige, the lenses of patience, knowledge, and real relationship are bringing the game into focus for me. I owe that to NewClub as much as my mower.  

            Autumn in Georgia has a distinct rhythm. The Braves fade from consciousness—and contention—the ball of interest becomes oblong, and the light lingers golden as the leaves turn. On the courses, rye and poa annua sprout to compliment the sleepy Bermuda, providing an emerald stage against a backdrop of red and orange. Golfers don their toboggans as the mercury dips below 50; we must conserve heat to play all winter.

Though the mowers run less frequently this time of year, groundskeepers all over Georgia continue their plans, whether their grounds are gardens or golf courses. Essential tasks like de-thatching, pruning, and Christmas light installation take center stage. Groundskeeping golfer undertake these tasks in hopes of a Groundhog Day without shadow and Augusta beyond—at NewClub we’ve still got Sweetens beyond that. I’m grateful for that perspective. I’m grateful to be able to share winter rounds with Atlanta NewClub members while time and nature take their course. Thankfully, it’s always a great time to Play and Pollinate.