THE GOLF BUG BIT MY DAD in Evansville, Indiana. He was in his early 30s and played a city track called Fendrich Golf Course, which was built circa 1950. My father has now been playing golf for 50 years, a single-digit handicapper for much of it.
I mention Fendrich because I paid a visit to Evansville today for the first time in nearly 20 years. I showed my daughters where I grew up. They were good sports about it, mostly.
Along the way, I caught a glimpse of Fendrich, just off Diamond Avenue near the intersection of U.S. 41. It’s nothing special, a flat par-70 layout that was pretty bare and full of hardpan back in the 1960s.
By the way, I have no idea who J.H. Fendrich was. I just remember my dad coming home from Fendrich excited about golf and looking forward to his next round. His enthusiasm for the game ignited the interest of his youngest son (me), who took up golf a few years later in the California desert.
−The Armchair Golfer
here's to all the regular guys who play whatever course they can — public, semi-private, no-name private clubs — and love just being there. The league players, the weekend my-wife-allowed-me-out-for-four-hours guys, the young & broke guys ragging their buddies… Your daughters will understand later when they're grown.
My father was instrumental in my love for the game over the years. I firmly beleive golf is the best vehicle there is for sharing quality time with anyone. this time spent with one's father or mother; priceless.