Peril

‘What is caddying, if not the job of a coolie?’

The club captain was a democratic fellow. He begrudged everybody uniformly. The caddies in the course were, like secondhand sets, a mixed bag. Some were knowledgeable and sober, others were knowledgeable and drunk. Was caddying a profession? Only if the caddy had something to offer, like a correct club choice or a putting line suggestion. The modern caddie was a mere bag-puller who stood in the wrong places, fidgeted, made disparaging sounds, and behaved like a spectator. In more recent times, he carried a noisy phone.

The two most experienced caddies in the course were in demand. It was a common habit among the two to drink till their eyes reddened. They came from forbearing families who put up with their habits. Members were willing to ignore their foul breath and unsteady gait. Because they were useful.

Some members who came from feudal households treated caddies as servants. When that happened these two would play a subtle game. Wrong club suggestions for a shot and marginally incorrect putting lines were their weapons. I have seen this happen. These feudal lords would lose it halfway through the round. They would be playing at their best and the scores would be awful. Nothing is worse than narrowly missing a green or putt, hole after hole, in the first nine. I knew what was happening, I watched the members implode. I was reminded then of what someone advised me when I picked up a quarrel with a waiter for tardy service. He said never misbehave with someone who is serving you food.