Golf International, January/February, 2003
Instructors have advanced innumerable theories on why my game stinks, from an over-the-top swing to a lower body that swivels like a youthful Elvis. I’ve listened a lot and learned a little but concluded instead that my shortcomings are largely geographic: I’m dreadful because I live in Manhattan. You would be too.
Recently Golf Digest ranked the quality of golf facilities in 314 American cities. Tops was Jamestown in upstate New York, which is much closer to Toronto than to Manhattan. New York City came in 313th. Only Jersey City, just across the river, ranked lower. The news shocked no-one.
New York’s billionaire mayor, Michael Bloomberg, (who plays at a ritzy club in Bermuda!) just hiked fees on the 13 municipal courses - all notoriously crammed and poorly maintained - to $45. It costs only $39 to play Bethpage Black, the 2002 US Open venue. An average round in the metropolitan area now exceeds $56, a tolerable amount if price were the only daunting aspect. In fact, a typical round takes over five hours and the selection of partners depends less upon who is willing and able than on who is willing and able to drive. Since playing is so emotionally and financially draining, you might suppose that merely practicing would be comparatively effortless. As they say in Brooklyn, Fuhgeddaboudit!
Randalls Island driving range is closest to my home as the Titleist flies yet predictably the most troublesome to reach. Access to this puddled field is via a ramp off the Triborough Bridge, the most heavily trafficked in town, and a $12 bus ride. More often I ride to the last subway stop in the Bronx and the range at Mosholu Golf Course. A few years ago, a dead man rode the rails unnoticed during the morning rush but step onto a train with a golf bag and the glances veer from grim suspicion to murderous envy. The journey takes 45 minutes on a good day, which is rare since track repairs frequently necessitate transferring to a bus for part of the trek (for passenger reaction, see above and add a dash of shoving).
In 1999 it was announced that Mosholu’s range and nine-hole course would make way for a water filtration plant (a scheme halted in court by environmentalists). So lousy is the facility that many were rooting for the plant. For $8 you receive a bucket of around 50 balls that are invariably wet and cracked, with the texture of something washed up on shore. You hit from rubber mats that are much too small to accommodate a wide stance. The practice green lies in the shadow of the rusting overhead tracks and doubles as a chipping area. To this I attribute my jerky putting stroke: you try developing a smooth action when you’re directly in the firing-line of a 30-handicapper taking mighty cuts at a flop shot! And every few minutes an earsplitting rattle announces the arrival of more golfers seeking space in the concrete jungle.
Augusta National it isn't.
On a recent visit to Mosholu, the number waiting at the first tee never dropped below sixteen. I stopped playing the course long ago when a sand wedge became the tool of choice on the greens. Only beaten-down New York golfers would queue to play somewhere this bad. Still, at least its cheap, an accusation yet to be leveled at Chelsea Piers Golf Club, which juts into the Hudson River close to Madison Square Garden. This being Manhattan, prices are high-rise and there isn’t a blade of grass in sight. However, there are singles nights in summer, which is one way to work on your scoring technique.
Here $25 buys 100 balls, which are teed automatically so its easy on the back even if it hurts your wallet. In all fairness, Chelsea Piers might be the only bright spot for Gotham golfers. There are 52 heated stalls, an indoor bunker ($50 an hour!) and synthetic putting greens. The 13-member teaching academy is the only option in town for lessons. A typically New York caveat: Chelsea Piers budgets $15,000 annually to cover repairs to the sailboats bobbing in the waters just beyond the protective netting. Its perversely reassuring to know that we are not the only people who take a hit there.
There are, of course, two obvious solutions for Manhattan golfers: join a club or move. Since initiation fees are usually north of $15,000, plus dues, my budget won’t accommodate private golf. So relocate. Never! Manhattan is a golden shackle for golfers: everything is available at any hour, but a range of grass is more likely to mean a drug dealers wares than a golf facility. It’s probably a fair trade. After all, who would want a scratch handicap if it meant living in the New Jersey suburbs?
New York produced world-beaters like John McEnroe and Mike Tyson, but not one top golfer comes from the city. Given how tough it is to take a practice swing here, that’s no surprise. According to legend, George Best once claimed that if whiskey had never been invented no-one would ever have heard of Pele. In a similar vein, had Tiger Woods been born in Manhattan, Phil Mickelson would be world No. 1.
