Local Masters tournament played in snow

The Masters holds a special place for Cape May National Golf Club owner Bob Mullock and some of the long-time members.

The late Skee Riegel, who was the pro-emeritus there before passing away in 2009 at age 94, played in 11 straight Masters at Augusta from 1947 through 1957. He was the low amateur in 1948 and finished second to Ben Hogan in the 1951 tournament.

My how times have changed. This year’s winner, two-time champion Scottie Scheffler, received $3.6 million while runnerup Ludvig Aberg took home $2.16 million.

Hogan received $3,000 for his two-shot victory in 1951. Riegel, who finished two shots behind, earned $1,875.

Partly in Skee’s honor, Cape May National celebrated his achievement Saturday by holding its own version of the Masters. It’s a fun, unique event in which your 18-hole score on Saturday is combined with someone’s final round score at Augusta on Sunday.

Scheffler, Aberg and my new favorite golfer, Eric van Rooyen, played amongst the azaleas in warm sunshine and tricky winds.

I played in snow.

The flakes began to fall early in my round, which I opened with a double-bogey. It quickly melted through the next five holes, but an unexpected blizzard hit me on the par-5 seventh.

That’s when I built a snowman, plus an igloo for him to enjoy the day.

In golf parlance, an eight is nicknamed a snowman. My “Frosty” began to take shape when my drive veered right toward a row of hedges.

My second shot landed 10 yards behind my first shot after caroming off a tree root with a loud thud that sent my playing partners – who were standing behind me – ducking for cover.

Two shots later I was still closer to the tee box than the green. I reached it on my sixth attempt, then dug into my golf bag in search of a corn cob pipe and button nose.

Three putts later, I exchanged my Footjoys for galoshes, pulled out a shovel to replace my putter, scribbled a nine on my scorecard and began to regret not packing a couple mini-bottles of Fireballs to dull the disappointment.

It was apparent that Van Rooten could shoot 59 on Sunday – he shot 76 – and I still wasn’t winning.

In a weird way, it took the pressure off and allowed me to enjoy the back nine. I bounced back on the par-5 14^th by curling in a 15-foot putt for birdie.

My mood brightened as I checked my phone and learned that my eldest grandson, Hampton, had gone 3-for-3 in his machine-pitch Little League game.

That took the sting away from seeing my tee shot on the par-3 17^th land in the water, startling the two swans that were gliding along the surface.

In actuality, I didn’t play horribly. Despite my misadventures earlier in the round, I managed to shoot 93 with a few pars and the birdie for a net 81 that left me in the middle of the pack of the 50-player field.

Nothing that a post-round margarita at the Rusty Nail in Cape May couldn’t cure.

Hurts receives justly deserved contract

Jalen Hurts just became wealthy.

According to multiple media outlets, Hurts and the team agreed to terms earlier this week on a five-year, $255 million contract. The new deal, which kicks in for the 2024 season, runs through the 2028 season and is believed to include $179.3 million guaranteed.

Kudos to Hurts’ agent, Nicole Lynn, and Eagles general manager Howie Roseman, for working together to reward Hurts’ productivity and potential. According to ESPN, Hurts is the highest-paid player in NFL history, though that distinction will only last until fellow quarterbacks Joe Burrow, Justin Herbert and Lamar Jackson get new deals.

Hurts certainly deserves the windfall. He replaced all the question marks that followed him into the 2023 season with exclamation points, punctuating a terrific regular season by leading the Birds to the Super Bowl, where they suffered a 38-35 loss to Kansas City.

“Congrats to him,” Chiefs quarterback Patrick Mahomes told NFL.com. “He’s someone that plays the position the right way. He goes about his business the right way. that’s why (the Eagles) were in the Super Bowl. … He proves a lot of people wrong that were still doubting him.”

It finally gives the Eagles some stability at quarterback for the first time since Donovan McNabb was leading the Birds to five NFC Championship game appearances and a Super Bowl berth during his 11-year tenure in Philadelphia from 1999-2009.

A few other passers had some success – Michael Vick was second in the 2010 MVP voting to Tom Brady, Carson Wentz enjoyed an MVP-caliber season before getting injured in 2017, Nick Foles led the Eagles to their only Super Bowl victory in 2017 – but were unable to sustain it for various reasons.

Barring injury, Hurts appears poised to be that franchise quarterback.

The Eagles evidently think so, for Hurts’ contract includes the first no-trade clause in franchise history.

That’s a big deal for a team that traded McNabb and allowed Hall of Fame safety Brian Dawkins to leave via free agency.

I couldn’t fathom having that much money, but I have a few ideas on how I would spend it if I did. First off, my children, grandchildren and two or three more generations of Weinberg’s would be set up for life.

Once that’s taken care of, there would be a winter home in Latitudes Margaritaville in Daytona, Florida – I’m a Parrothead at heart – as well as Newport Beach, California and Scottsdale, Arizona in order to escape Cape May’s winter chill.

But I’d still want to be able to enjoy summer and fall in Cape May – as us Jersey Shore locals know, September and early October are the best beach months – so I’d just go down Beach Drive and make offers to beachfront home owners until one of them decides to make a deal.

Next, I would keep my membership at Cape May National – I consider it one of the best public courses in South Jersey along with Ballamor, Blue Heron Pines, Running Deer, Seaview’s Bay Course, Shore Gate, Twisted Dune, Vineyard National and others – but I wouldn’t mind joining a private track like Atlantic City, Galloway National or Union League National.

There would also be memberships at courses in Arizona, California and Florida. No more playing in 40-degree weather and having to hammer a tee into the ground while wearing three layers of clothes. From now on, it’s short sleeves and shorts.

There would also be a visit to the Atlantic City Boat Show at the Convention Center in March. I’m tired of passing luxurious yachts at South Jersey Marina on my standup paddleboard and waiting in vain to be asked aboard for brunch.

That would also mean hiring a crew to compete against Michael Jordan and other boats in the annual Mid-Atlantic billfish tournament. Owner Dave Anderson was kind enough to allow me to take a trip aboard Krazy Salts with captain Keith Greenberg for the 2017 event and I came away hooked on deep sea fishing.

Since my arm now aches when I throw spirals to my grandsons, my best bet is to either win the lottery or hope that my wife, Karen, has some grand presents in store for my 65th birthday on Wednesday.

Then again, wealth and riches can take on many forms.

With three grandsons, two children and a wonderful wife, I’ve already hit the lottery.

But I wouldn’t mind a round at Pebble Beach.

Column: golfers were seeing red Sunday

A lot of professional golfers were sporting red and black attire on Sunday in support of Tiger Woods, who is recovering from serious leg injuries suffered in a car accident last week.

Rory McIlroy, Patrick Reed and Tony Finau were among the players sporting the colors in the final round of the WGC’s Workday Championships in Bradenton, Florida. Annika Sorenstam, playing in her first LPGA event in 21 years, donned a red shirt and black skirt on Sunday at the Gainbridge tournament in Orlando.

“It’s hard to explain how touching today was when I turned on the TV and saw all the red shirts,” Woods said on Twitter Sunday. “To every golfer and every fan, you are truly helping me get through this tough time.”

The most notable getup was worn by Phil Mickelson, who eschewed his traditional all-black Sunday garb for a red shirt at the PGA Champions Tour Cologuard Classic in Tuscon, Arizona.

If Mickelson broke out in a rash, it’s because the former Arizona State University star was wearing a shirt emblazoned with a logo from rival University of Arizona, which is located in Tucson.

“I had to buy a red shirt (to show support for Woods) and of course every red shirt here has a big A on it,” Mickelson told the Arizona Republic Sunday. “I hope Tiger knows that we’re supporting him. Because that was a lot for me to do that.”

That was no doubt the reason Mickelson wore a black pullover for the entire round. In addition to playing for the Sun Devils, Phil’s brother and caddie, Tim, was once ASU’s men’s golf coach.

As the parent of an Arizona State grad (Class of 2007), I know it was a big deal. Kyle’s golf shirts and hats- and most of mine as well – are either gold, burgundy or black and feature a pitchfork or the classic “Sparky the Sun Devil” logo.
When my wife Karen and I were visiting our young grandsons Hampton (5) and Graham (2) on Saturday, Graham wanted Mimi to help him change his t-shirt. They went to his closet and he immediately grabbed a gold t-shirt with Sparky on the front that reads “Start em young, raise ’em right.”

“Sun Devil,” Graham said. “My favorite.”

Of course, I personally show loyalty to other schools. I also have some green-and-white shirts and a hat with a dolphin diving between a “JU” logo from our daughter Ashley’s alma mater, Jacksonville University (Class of 2005). My wardrobe also includes some black-and-white shirts from my college, the Appalachian State Mountaineers (Class of 1980).

If it hadn’t been pouring all day Sunday and I had been able to play 18, I might have considered wearing my red pullover from Half Moon Bay Golf Club in California, since Tiger is the only PGA player I’ve personally met.

Actually, that’s quite a stretch. My only encounter with him came in 1997, the day after he became the youngest Masters champion in history. He was making an appearance in Atlantic City at the old Trump Taj Mahal – now Hard Rock Hotel & Casino – to open its Official All-Star Cafe that was located just off the Boardwalk. Woods was part-owner of the franchise, along with Andre Agassi, Wayne Gretzky, Ken Griffey, Jr., Joe Montana, Shaquille O’Neal and Monica Seles.

Hundreds of fans lined the boardwalk. I was squeezed into a roped-off media section with about a dozen others. Woods strolled past and shouted something like, “I’m happy to be here.”

Not every golfer wore red on Sunday. The gesture wasn’t made official until Thursday or Friday and some players simply did not include red shirts and black pants when packing for the tournaments. Collin Morikowa, who won the Workday tournament, had planned on wearing red, but the shirt didn’t arrive on time.

A few chose other ways to show their support. Billy Horschel, who tied for second at Workday behind champion Collin Morikowa, had Woods’ initials on his hat. Bryson DeChambeau and Matt Kuchar both used Bridgestone golf balls with “Tiger” stamped on them.

Max Homa caught some unfortunate and undeserved heat from Twitter trolls because he wasn’t wearing red. He explained that he was contractually obligated to wear shirts containing logos from his various sponsors, so was not able to dash out to the nearest Dick’s Sporting Goods or WalMart to pick up a red one.

However, that wasn’t enough to satisfy some idiots. Homa’s Twitter feed was filled with vitriol. Some messages suggested he tear the logos off his shirts and sew them onto a red one. Others were even more ludicrous.

“I mean this with zero hyperbole,” Homa wrote Saturday. “This is the weirdest thing I’ve experienced on Twitter lol. I love Tiger more than u guys. Promise. Red and black tomorrow doesn’t prove that. A lifelong attempt to mimic his approach to the game of golf does.”

I agree. While wearing red and black was a touching gesture, it was also a little bizarre. Tiger suffered some horrendous injuries to his right leg and foot after his car careened off a Southern California road, but they were not life-threatening.
As Homa said, playing like Tiger sends a much more powerful message than dressing like him.

Personally, I can neither dress nor play like him. I might have worn a red pullover Sunday, but I would have had an ASU shirt underneath.

And I still would have struggled to break 90.

Column: Helping a golfer cope with tragedy

Saturday’s round at Cape May National was one of the most memorable of my 20-plus years of playing golf.

No, I didn’t get a hole-in-one, didn’t break 70, didn’t even play especially well.

It was because of Bob.

As I walked past the clubhouse and headed toward the 10th tee, the starter asked if he could pair me up with someone who had never played the course before and just wanted to play nine holes.

“Of course,” I said. “I hate playing alone.”

Bob drove up in a cart wearing a black mask, a Hawaiian shirt, and tan khaki shorts. He had a water bottle inside the cup holder, along with a pack of Tastykake Butterscotch Krimpets that prompted me to wonder if he was from Philadelphia.

After we introduced ourselves, he revealed that he was 80 years old and was going to play from the senior tees.

He didn’t say another word for four holes, other than to ask a few questions about where to aim his tee shots, even though most of them took sharp turns into the woods or water.

I began to question my decision to play 18 instead of nine. It was going to take at least two and a half hours and the lack of conversation was going to make it seem twice as long.

We arrived at the 14th tee box. I looked over at Bob and saw he was in tears.

I’m having a very tough time,” he said. “My wife just died. We were married for 54 years.”

Bob was from Philadelphia – the Tastykakes were a giveaway – and Angela was from New York. A few years after they married, they moved to Bucks County, Pa., where they raised two children before moving to The Villages in central Florida 13 years ago.

Bob took her to the doctor on her birthday, May 3, which also happens to be my mother’s and grandson Graham’s birthday. He didn’t get into details, other than to say she developed some sort of infection that eventually spread to her brain.

“She was in a nursing home for about a month,” he said. “But I wasn’t allowed to see her because of Covid-19. She died on July 23. I never got a chance to say goodbye.”

We headed up the 14th fairway. I stood about 10 yards away, almost perpendicular, to watch the flight of his next shot. The ball squirted off his 3-wood and spun sideways, hitting me in the chest.

I moved a few yards further away in search of safety, but to no avail. His third of nine shots on the 15th skidded off the grass and smacked me in the ankle.

I’ve played hundreds of rounds with players of various abilities. It marked the first and second times I’ve ever been hit.

“My brother hit me in the back of the head once,” Bob said after profusely apologizing. “I had a big welt.”

As we moved to the 16th, he started to get choked up again.

“My sister died two weeks before my wife,” he said. “It’s been a terrible summer for me.”

Since his wife’s passing, he’s spent time with his children and other relatives in the Philadelphia area. He joined his daughter, her husband and her in-laws for a weekend getaway in Cape May at a place on Washington Street.

Bob said he’s going back to Florida on September 23 and is dreading it.

“I enjoy living there,” he said, “but I’m afraid of going back to an empty house. I haven’t been alone in over 50 years. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.”

While he talked, I mostly listened.

I said very little, other than to offer my condolences. I reminded myself to kiss my wife when I got home and see if we could join our kids and grandkids at the beach on Sunday.

On the 18th green, after we made our final putts, I reached out to give Bob a fist bump. He moved in close and hugged me.

“Thank you so much for putting up with me,” he said. “I really needed this. I’m getting better, but I still break down a lot. Thanks for being so understanding.”

“It was my pleasure, Bob,” I said. “I had a great time. Again, I’m so very sorry for your loss. I can only pray things get better over time. And if you’re ever in town again and want to play, just let me know.”

I watched him drive off to the clubhouse, walked to my car and grabbed a tissue.

Bob wasn’t the only one to shed a tear.