Deaf golfers take stage at Totteridge event
quiet. Sign language was the predominant means of communication, and the golfers made little sound, beyond the pattering of hands and laughter. A lot of laughter.
“Usually outings are a bit raucous and people are having bloody marys,” said Patrick Cendes, Totteridge president of real estate. “This is a different experience.”
The tournament, typically held by affiliated organizations in the southeastern United States, attracted golfers from across the world, diverse in age and skill level.
This year, the tournament had four international competitors — three from Canada and one, Dmitry Katsnelson, from Norway — and one 91-year-old, Andrew Lisac.
On the opening day, scores ranged from 73 to 134. The leader, Scott Davidson, took little time to card a double eagle; another golfer triple-bogeyed after failing twice to tap in from 2 feet.
The tournament serves as a regional branch of the United States Deaf Golfers Association, which plays host to its own open that will include some of this year’s SEDGA competitors.
A separate global tournament will be played in Maynooth, Ireland, later this year, also featuring a SEDGA presence.
The tournament started its path to Totteridge more than two years ago. Joey D’Auria, chairperson of Western Pennsylvania Disabled Golfers Association and a native of Union Dale, had played the course in the past and reached out to owner Susan Tanto to gauge her interest in playing host. The course signed a contract 18 months ago. Then, preparation began.
Gay called a previous host, the Clustered Spires Golf Club in Frederick, Md., for pointers. Logistical meetings — which for most tournaments take about 20 minutes — lasted about 45 minutes, because all communication had to be written.
Totteridge has held many tournaments in the past — Cendes sees it as an “up-andcoming” course, and it is set to play host to a U.S. Amateur qualifier later this year — but none have been like this.
“You got a full clubhouse full of people and no sound,” Tanto said. “It’s almost a little bit eerie.”
After the golfers arrived, though, Gay said, things got easier by the day. He said his mother works with disabled children, and that she made him a video teaching sign language, but he didn’t feel confident enough to use it. Instead, he found other ways to communicate. Kitchen workers June Rose Lipinski and Olivia Neill taped a signlanguage alphabet in front of them, and said, with some help, they picked things up as they went along.
“The more you see it, the more you learn it,” kitchen worker Kaci Croushore said.
She said that she picked up the basics quicker than anyone else, and that she would feel comfortable signing in the future.
SEDGA secretary Chris McMahan said communicating with staff wasn’t difficult and applauded the “super” job they did.
At most tournaments, Gay could simply have the rules announced from a DJ booth; this week, golfers congregated at the foot of a hill as an interpreter signed the rules. Then, it was time to golf.
“You don’t really need to communicate much,” Gay said. “You just go out there and play.”
On the course, all speak the same language. Outside the 12th green, Davidson took a few practice swings, then brushed his hand against the grass and cleaned his club head. He swung back and chipped his second shot over a sand trap and near the hole.
As it rolled, Davidson threw his arms in the air and pointed to the sky, side shuffling and hopping, hoping to get a better look. The ball trickled into the hole, then popped back out.
Davidson yelled, ripped his arm across his body in frustration, then turned to his playing partners and smiled.
As they approached their putts, the competitors walked side-by-side and conversed. The conversation was silent. There was no indication of bickering. None of gloating. Just laughter.
“Usually outings are a bit raucous and people are having bloody marys. This is a different experience.”
— Patrick Cendes, Totteridge president of real estate