It was almost 8am on a Saturday morning when my dad said “You are coming to Metro with me John, so hurry up and put some clean clothes on!” Ten minutes later we drove away to Oakleigh, in South East Melbourne.
After leaving the car in the huge car park area, he told me that he was going to leave me for the day because he had to work. I knew he worked at “Metro” but it was difficult to know what kind of work he did. I was a bit stunned when we drove in through the big green gates with “Metropolitan Golf Club” lettered in gold. The gates were about 8 foot high! And of course the sign also said “Private Property Members Only”. After parking, Dad and I walked towards the Club House which looked like a well kept mansion.
But instead of going in, we went towards a small timber office with a sign “Caddy Office” hanging out the front. A tall, grumpy looking man stood in the driveway, looking at the parking area. His name was Mr Collins and he acted as though he owned the area. After a few words with him, Dad disappeared into the Club House. Mr Collins said “follow me” and he led me to a shed with six boys sitting around. They all looked older than me and not very friendly. About 30 minutes later Mr Collins told me I was going to caddy for Mr Sinclair. I was terrified! Not much else was said except “that Mr Sinclair was very kind but doesn’t tip well!”
The only other things the Caddy Master told me was that I had to carry a golf bag with clubs in it. When Mr Sinclair turned up he looked at me and immediately got a buggy with wheels and a long handle. It was such a relief that I could push it or pull it, as it was bigger and heavier than me! Eventually four men gathered on the mound where they were going to “tee off” as this was the first hole. After throwing some coins into the air, they watched as they one by one hit off in order of the “coin toss”. I knew a little bit about golf balls as we have some old ones in our yard at home. I was anxious to learn so I watched carefully as they all hit off.
One man hit the ball straight into the thick tea-trees on the right side of the fairway. It created much hilarity. Then Mr Sinclair hit and it was safe going for about 200 yards and it finished in some rough, not far off the fairway. The next player to hit then used words I had never heard before, when the ball went into the trees. Then he threw his club in the air with disgust and it almost hit me. This prompted heaps more laughter from the men. I knew I had a lot to learn. Mr Sinclair was next to hit. I watched very closely as his ball ran down the fairway and then into some long grass. The men called this the “the rough” and it’s safe there. “Good shot” came the chorus. Then we all left the “tee-up” area and walked or strolled down the middle on the fairway. It was going to be a lovely day and I couldn’t wait to learn more.
We didn’t find the ball which went into the trees. It was announced “lost ball!” It was noted and the men all walked on without it. The men seemed to walk around with heads looking down for Mr Sinclair's ball, when I saw it under some leaves. I immediately dived down and gathered the ball and triumphantly shouted “ Found it, I Found it” and offered it to Mr Sinclair who seem to be ashen faced. There was complete silence and total disbelief. They all acted as though I had found a hand grenade! Then there was a spirited debate about penalties! I heard “It’s not his fault, he doesn’t know the rules, so whose fault is it?” It seemed that 2 of the men wanted a harsh penalty for Mr Sinclair but the other suggested common sense and that a one stroke penalty was enough .
Needless to say, it taught little Johnny to never ever touch a “ball in play” ever again. And Mr Sinclair never tipped me but he kept me as his caddy for the next 7 years, prior to him taking the “Fairway to Heaven” All this drama was 70 years ago but I’ve never really recovered
John A Wilson
Nov 2023
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