You don't get many days like this, so you book them.
May 2012. Dad's birthday, and the only present he actually wanted was a tee time with his son and his grandsons. Nathan and Jordan were young enough to still be growing into their swings and old enough to be genuinely dangerous. We drove under the sign that says WELCOME TO THE PLAYERS and nobody in the cart said anything for a second.
That's the thing about a course this famous. You've watched it every May of your life. You know the holes before you play them. And then you're standing on the actual tee with your father on one side and your sons on the other, and the golf turns out to be the least interesting part of the day.
Everybody gets a photo
There's an unwritten rule at the island green: nobody hits until everyone's picture is taken. So we went one at a time. Dad and me. Me and Jordan. Me and Nathan. Then all four of us with the water going gold and the light almost gone.
A hundred and thirty-seven yards. No trouble anywhere except all of it. I'm not going to tell you what any of us made, and if you've played it you already know why.
Ruth's Chris, and nobody looked at the right side of the menu
Two teenagers who had just played TPC Sawgrass will eat an astonishing quantity of steak. We let them. Dad sat at the head of the table looking like a man who'd gotten exactly what he asked for, because he had.
That's the whole review. Great course, better day, and I'd pay the green fee again tomorrow just for the photograph.
It's expensive, it's intimidating, and it deserves every bit of the reputation. But that's not why it's five. It's five because my dad got the day he wanted, the boys got a course they'll still be talking about at forty, and I got a photograph of the four of us that I look at more than I'd admit.