Black Course

“Warning: The Black Course is an extremely difficult course which is recommended only for highly skilled golfers.”

They are few things in life that scare you so much that you want to do it. Still, there is something behind those chilling words that makes a man think, “it can’t be that bad.” But those words are inscribed in front of the first tee box on the Black course at Bethpage Park for a reason. That reason is to make you think twice before teeing one up. And on a frigid morning in the fall, as the frost melted off the first fairway I stared out into the belly of the beast, and to be honest I was a little worried. Not at the history or the local fables, but by the course itself.

Thinking back to a cold rainy day in northern Alabama as I sat in a bowling alley with my father trying to celebrate his birthday, I thought about my next big challenge. By the way is there any better way to have fun than to be locked inside a bowling alley in northern Alabama on Tuesday packed with people? In all honesty, I had a wonderful time playing golf with my pops the previous two days and wished we had more time. But rain had capsized my final day and the opportunity to play the final round on the Robert Trent Jones Trial. As luck would have it my pops would end up beating me at bowling. He somehow would magically bowl the game of his life only when we would play against each other. And as soon as I returned home from my golf trip, I was made aware of a promise that I made in July; to play the Black Course at Bethpage Park. My buddy, Walter Ruscoe, who I had played golf with many of times throughout the summer was making sure I upheld my end of the promise. Without any hesitation, because we didn’t have time, we made plans to head out next Monday and play Tuesday. From that point on I couldn’t wait to go.

Bethpage Park is a state run park that is nestled in the heart of Long Island right off highway 495. The park has five golf courses: the red, the green, the brown, the blue, and most famous the black. The black course is most famous for it’s storied past. Different fables have circulated around from locals that the course was home to one of the famous Snead/Nelson matches after the 1960 PGA Championship. These two were bitter rivals and if there was a golf course around these two would be on it playing each other. Legend has it that Bryon Nelson was leading Sam Snead by a stroke going into the last hole. Snead realizing his only chance of beating Nelson would be to out drive him, and Nelson knew that would difficult since he was such a great long ball hitter. So, Nelson steps up to the tee at 18 and hits a smashing drive up the fairway, far away his best drive of the day. Sneed looked over at Nelson and then in a fit of frustration walked off the tee box and left before the match was over. This is just one of the stories I would come to inherit after spending a night in the Oak Room sharing war stories with the locals.
The black course is the longest of the five courses reaching a distance of 7,279 yards with not one house on the course (unless you count the assistant greens keepers behind the 9th) and no golf cart paths throughout the entire course. It was also home of the 2002 U.S. Open Golf tournament. The Open for those who don’t know is the people’s major. It’s the only one of the five major golf tournaments that anyone can qualify for. You, me and even the kid who delivers your newspaper can play in this tournament. The problem is you have to qualify. And that’s no easy task. Still, it’s one of the most prestigious tournaments and not to mention the hardest to win. Most of the time the U.S. Open’s are held on private courses or courses that would cost you a Lexus car note to play. Instead this past year it was held for the first time at a municipal golf course (Bethpage Park), which costs 32 bucks for New Yorkers and 62 for out of towners. This can’t be right? And then Golf Magazine goes the extra step and ranks it in the top 50 golf courses in the World to play!!!!!

Despite contrary beliefs to the normal traditional way of making a golf reservation things are done a little differently at Bethpage. You ask any guy who lives in Long Island what does on his weekends and he’ll tell ya’ it consists of leaving home at 1am to get in line for a tee time at the black course. Sounds sick, just think about it now since every guy in the surrounding area can go play golf at a U.S. Open course for 62 bucks. The time to first get in line has just increased from 1am to 4pm the day before. The standard procedure for reservations on the black course consist of: 1) arriving 24 hours before you want to play, 2) parking your car in a numbered spot overnight with at least one person in the car at all times, 3) sleeping in the car overnight until 5am when you will receive a ticket and bracelet, 4) then get into another line at the pro shop to get your tee time and pay your fees. This is a common sacrifice made by all who travel to play the most prestigious public course in the world. Of course I was not looking forward to sleeping in a car overnight, but then again it would be an unbelievable experience.

Walter booked everything days ahead of time. We thought about this long and hard. Since we had all summer to plan this golf adventure. He would get us a minivan for the overnight slumber party and we would have plenty of refreshments to keep us happy while we waited. Another friend of mine, Jose Pires, would be joining us later in the afternoon to indulge in the excitement of playing Bethpage. This would put us at a threesome and either they would pair us up with a single or we would eventually break up some friendships. We were so nervous about arriving too late to get a spot that we left at 9am on Monday morning to head out. Granted it takes about 2 ½ hours to get to Bethpage from Connecticut.
When the sun rose on Monday it greeted us with cool temperatures that left any dew on my car frozen. Walter greeted me at my door with an excited smile and gasped, “We’re gonna play Bethpage Black!!!” As we crawled into the minivan there was little doubt that it wouldn’t be great experience. Most of the ride down to the Bridgeport ferry was in silence as I slept in the passenger seat. When I awoke we were loading up the car onto the ferry. The ferry had a look about it that arose a feeling of comfort. They cram about 30-40 cars and trucks into the belly of this ferry, and then you wait out the ride. I had yet to see Long Island or cross the sound. As the boat shoved off the dock and headed out for its destination we moved to the front of the boat. Outside the sun was blazing across the water glaring into our eyes as if it were starring us down. A cool gust blew hard into our faces, but we didn’t leave the front. The view was too much to leave. A small sailboat crossed our path about 2 miles ahead of us slowing moving it’s way on the cold morning. Walter and I shared the silence of the morning that is so peaceful it makes one believe that it’s so nice to be here. The boat moved slowly toward the island, weaving in between boats in the harbor and docking in the heart of Port Jefferson. We had a lot on our minds, most importantly getting to the park before other cars starting lining up.
Hopping from routes to interstates, like a NASCAR driver positioning himself for the final lap, the distance to our final resting spot came about quickly. Round Swamp Road/ Bethpage exit 52 off interstate 495, is a memorable exit for those who’ve taken the trip and reason for our excitement to begin. It’s amazing the amount of time that passes when you are taking in the sights around you. A small diner here, a pizza joint on the corner, and an house with a sign outside stating “Bobby Hull Insurance: best in all of Long Island.” The park has a windy road that takes you around the golf courses and to the front entrance.
“Welcome to Bethpage Park. Home of the 2002 U.S. Open.” At last a sign of hope that makes Walter and I smile at the possibility that this is going to be unbelievable. The clubhouse stood right in front of us with tall pine trees lining the road to the front door. We drove up to the clubhouse and asked for directions for the overnight parking. A local pointed us in the direction we needed. As the car drove in circle searching for the right spot to crash, I kept spinning my head to see the course. Finally we found our spot. Number 2 in line. Whew! Talk about a sigh of relief. I looked over to Walter and he looked back, “We’re gonna play Bethpage Black!!” Walter a man of eloquent words spoke the honest truth, and his words reverberated inside my head for about an hour. The clubhouse was immaculate. You would never guess this was a public golf course. I have been in trailers, shacks, warehouses, clubhouses that could hold two to three people at most, and places that are like dance halls with folding tables used for registration, but this place ranked up with there with the best. Of course we stopped to buy shirts and balls and all the tourists stuff, then we appeased our stomachs to some food at the Oak Gallery.
The Oak Gallery was the pub for the golf course. A place were you tally up your scores and share in the humiliation of what you just went through. As Walter puts it, “you realize what it’s like to be a golfer.” The pub is filled with bay windows looking out to the 9th hole and the 18th hole of the Black course. You could also see the green course being trampled by the golf carts and the golf clubs of many. We had a few drinks and listened to some locals tell stories of the days when the course wasn’t so populated with traveling golfers. The bartender told us that the black course is closed on Mondays to alleviate the high traffic usually accustomed with public courses. They also don’t allow hardly anyone to play on the black after 3pm. I kind of chuckled thinking of how many times I have trounced my clubs out to play twilight golf at some rink dinky course. As Walter and I walked back to the minivan for a long night ahead of us our third party showed up. This was going to be good. Jose Pires, another guy from work, pulled up and parked his car in the number 3 spot. I remarked to the both of them that it was funny to not see that many cars lined up. Still the night had not fallen and we had some time to kill. Soon the sun began to set down and I crossed the street to see it land gracefully in its bed. Walter, Jose and I watched the sun set from the 8th fairway on the brown course; it was one of the most surreal sights I have seen in a while. We almost had to drag Walter off the fairway cause he was in awe of the sight. The sky-meshed colors like a painter mixing watercolors. Purple, red, and yellow filled up the horizon beckoning the darkness of the night to follow. Jose and I threw a football for a while to pass time and then we watched some Monday Night Football. Still we all were worried about the next morning. I crawled into the back of the minivan to sleep, but I couldn’t get any sleep with the thoughts of the course running in my head. The longest par 5 in U.S. Open history hung in the back of my mind stirring nightmares.
What was only about 7 hours lasted what seemed like an eternity. We awoke to cars honking and people bustling about their cars at 5am. Darkness surrounded everything in sight but only a few headlights, which lit up a path in front of us. Someone walked up to the car and asked how many playing today. Three!! We all had bracelets placed on our hands then were given tickets to get in line for reservations. As quickly as one can move about at 5am we ran into the clubhouse only to stand in line for 10 minutes and get our tee time. 8:06am was when we would tee off. Outside it was about 30 degrees. Now when I say it was cold outside, I think seeing a bunch of grown men cry out “Shit it’s cold,” or “I’m freezing my ass off” reinstates the belief it could be difficult to play today. I kept praying for the sun to rise. Thinking back now, I think we all were. Word got around quickly that frost was on the course and we would have to wait until 9am to tee off. We all got changed and went inside for breakfast. There we didn’t discuss much. Just say in silence while we ate and focused on the task at hand.
Soon enough we were standing in front of that dreadful sign on the first tee box. There had to be about 15 guys fidgeting around trying to stay warm and anticipating their turn up at the tee. I stared down the first fairway almost like a boxer stares down his opponent as they give the instructions. “No hits below the belt. No rabbit punches. And when the bell rings go to your respective corners.” I am not gonna back down now. It’s me and the course for 18 holes and I am gonna love every minute of it. The morning frost layered over the course for about an hour. Soon enough the sun raised from it’s slumber. It greeted the course in between branches and over treetops. I stood at that first tee box, cold and nervous. The toughest shot in all of golf- is the first one. Once you hit that first one it’s all downhill from that point. It definitely sets the tone. As we all walked down the first fairway I took my time to soak up this whole atmosphere. This wasn’t just hallowed ground but unreal beauty. The birds were chirping, the silence was peaceful, and the course was in excellent condition. I am going to leave out specific details about this course because no words would due it true justice. It’s a must experience. I can tell you that it’s long, tough, and challenging. After every swing I admired everything about it, and as I walked up every fairway I took a mental picture for my own album. I can’t say that I have played a more difficult golf course in my life, but then again I can’t say I have played them all. The course and I battled it out to the finish. It would have been a draw if it had to be scored cause the course beat me on the scorecard but I won in capturing the essence of golf. There can’t be much more to golfing than the chance to take on the best and finish saying it was awesome. Walter made the old Milwaukee statement of the day as we walked off the 18th, “if your gonna sacrifice to play some golf, I wouldn’t have done it anyplace else.” A famous author once wrote a book about golf titled “A good walk spoiled”, and still to this day I still believe it’s all what you put into something that makes it so rewarding.