Carl is a Midwesterner. He’s played the game for over 50 years. He’s played with smashed fingers from his job as a machinist. He’s played through cold winters wearing a pair of cheap brown gardening gloves. He taught his wife and two sons the game when they were all very young. Carl is a golfer in every sense of the word. Last week he shot an 80. That was pretty good for him these days, although he’s been in the mid 70’s many times. In the last 5 years he’s had a double eagle and two holes-in-one. His game has started to fall off a bit lately. There are days he’s happy breaking 90 and most days he’s just happy to play. And play he does. Religiously, six-seven days a week—rain or shine. Only the Midwestern winters slow him down and that’s only if there’s snow on the ground (although it’s been rumored that he’s tried it in the snow with an orange ball).Carl never hit a long ball. 225 off the tee has always been enough for him, as long as it was dead straight. His mastery is from 100 yards in. One of the reasons is his putter. Not a Odyssey
But what’s really special about Carl is not that he’s one of the many unique golfers out there with love and passion for the game, it’s that Carl turned 82 years old today. That right, 82. He hasn’t had an easy country club life—far from it. And he doesn’t played 12 months a year in 80 degree weather either. As Carl will tell you, “It’s winter out here from October til June.” But it’s never stopped him.
So hats off to Carl for being one of our true golf heroes and most especially for being my father.
I love you dad.

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