The Middletown Press (Middletown, CT)
What it’s like inside the ropes at the Travelers Pro-Am
“Team 10 is on the clock,” the emcee said. We had 40 seconds to pick two PGA professionals to play with at the Travelers Celebrity Pro-Am the next day at the TPC River Highlands in Cromwell.
Most of the big-name players were taken. We didn't care. My partners, ShopRite CEO Tom Cingari and Chris VanDeHoef of Penn Lincoln Strategies, and I were kids in the candy store. We chose Taylor Pendrith, a Canadian tour veteran, and Max McGreevy, a young gun from Oklahoma. We high-fived like we had won the lottery.
The Travelers Championship, which ended Sunday, is a favorite among tour players, and I see why. Everyone there is top-notch, from organizers to each volunteer.
Pro-Am players are treated to the same amenities as the real players. My caddie and roommate from Boston College, Steve “Lefty” Lefkowitz, and I were waved into the player lot, where a valet unloaded clubs and whisked the car away. A concierge directed us to the VIP area, with gift bags and a full buffet. The life of a tour player doesn't stink.
Lefty and I toured the practice range. The real pros are on one side, with fans close enough to watch them hit one majestic ball after another into the crisp blue sky. The other side is where you'll find no fans but a bunch of out-of-shape and mostly aging wannabe golfers trying to look the part. That was where we belonged.
Then we headed to the chipping area, where things got real. Lefty grabbed a bag of new Titleist Pro V1 Tour practice balls and handed them to me. I said, “Are we supposed to be here?” Within a few steps stood world-renowned players — Rickie Fowler, Gary Woodland, Tommy Fleetwood, Tom Kim and more — working their craft.
Anyone who plays even a little golf knows that chipping may be the hardest shot for us weekend hackers. The last thing I needed was nailing Keegan Bradley in the knee. We found a safe area off to the side.
Next up was where our first pro, Taylor Pendrith, was warming up. His caddie, former pro hockey player Mitch Theoret, let us interrupt him. We sheepishly introduced ourselves. Taylor could not have been more gracious.
Then Lefty and I headed to the putting green. It was filled with pros.
I putted a ball, and another ball from out of nowhere collided with mine. The 2018 British Open champion, Francesco Molinari, glanced at me. I got the message and retreated to where I wouldn't get in anyone's way.
The putting green was a who's who of golf. We watched Justin Thomas, Scottie Scheffler, Max Homa and others working on their game. It's amazing to see what these players put in to get where they are.
Then it was five minutes to tee time. We found Chris, Tom and another college roommate, Pat “Bub” Barbera, who was also caddying. Two dozen college friends showed up to watch. So not only was I petrified, but I had my friends there to make fun of me.
Comically, security staff put up ropes so we could pass through fans to our first tee without getting bothered. One guy was even taking a video, as if we were important. At the tee box was a grandstand full of people. Taylor greeted us there with a big smile.
He proceeded to hit an absolute bomb down the middle of the fairway. This was going to be fun.
Our nerves were off the charts. Somehow we all hit decent shots, and we were off.
The next five hours are a combination of sensory overload and a blur. We are actually inside the ropes walking the greens of a PGA event. We have fans (“spectators” is a better word) cheering or groaning every shot. Taylor is amazing, patient and enthusiastically answering every question.
One thing you don't pick up on TV is the incredible athleticism of these guys. It looks so fluid and effortless for them. But when you are up close to Taylor driving a golf ball, you see a violent impact at 122 mph. I've played a lot of golf with really good players, but there is nothing like a tour pro. The sound, the fury and the result are just on a different level.
Halfway through our first nine, we are holding our own. We finish at 7 under par. We hear the leaders in the clubhouse are under 18. That's a pretty tall order, but we feel like we have a chance. Hugs all around for Taylor and his caddie Mitch, and they're off to get ready for their championship. For us, it's on to the next tee.
Waiting for us is Max McGreevy. He greets us with a big smile and handshakes, and we're off.
I let Max know we can stay out of his way if he'd like. He immediately stops and tells me he loves this stuff. I can understand him loving it, given that he just striped his tee shot 330 yards down the middle of the fairway.
His caddie, Jon Turcott, is hysterical. He rattles off story after story. Jon played in the 2008 U.S. Open at Torrey Pines that Tiger won. Jon had a 6-foot putt for eagle that would have had him make the cut, but his ball hit a spike mark and veered off course. It gives you an appreciation of the razor-thin margin between playing on tour and being a caddie — both admirable professions, but obviously a lot different.
Max is on fire on the back nine, and he finishes with four birdies. We three amateurs feed off his energy and play better. The crowds get bigger. My friends are joined by Chris's, and every shot is rambunctiously cheered. I'm sure some of the bars needed to be restocked after this crew came through.
Max rolls in his final birdie of the day on our last hole, which puts us at 16 under par and secures a third-place finish for our team.
After hugs, handshakes and photos, we bid farewell to Max and Jon and wish them the best, not only for the tournament but in life. It is all glitz and glamour for top players, but guys like Taylor and Max are still climbing the mountain. There are a thousand others nipping at their heels. The difference between keeping your tour card and not might just be one spike mark.
As we collect our clubs and head for the valet, the staff has one final gift: a framed plaque with pictures of our group autographed by Taylor and Max.
Driving out of that lot is surreal, with memories still fresh. As I make my way out of Country Club Drive, a cop waves me into the lane with the rest of the fan traffic. I am back where I belong, among the people who will never play on the PGA tour.