Bird was athletic by nature, wiry and strong from all the sports he played, the riding he did, and the fences and trees he climbed. That summer, his fourteenth, on the suggestion of a friend named Keith, Bird rode his bike up to the Eriedowns Golf & Country Club, which was actually on the southern border of a place called Strawberry Lane. But you already know what story.
Keith had a summer job cleaning clubs in the pro shop. He got Bird signed up as a caddy and introduced him to the club pro at the time, Mike Parco. Parco gave him a bit of a primer on caddying which he read from a small card he had printed up.
- Always be polite
- Be very quiet.
- Keep up with the golfer you are caddying for.
- Always know where the other golfers are, and stay out of their way.
- Watch your golfer’s ball like a hawk.
- Learn how well they play, so you can anticipate their club choice.
- Compliment them on a good shot.
- Say nothing about a bad shot.
- Don’t offer opinions until you can play the game better than they can.
- Learn to gauge distances (that will take a while).
He then gave a card to Bird and he was on board.
That summer was an incredible learning experience. Bird was rated by every golfer he caddied for and Mike Parco would calmly point out his, and every other caddy’s shortcomings. He ran a tight ship but he wasn’t mean about it. If nothing else, it got Bird focused on something that he found interesting. His first regular customer was a fellow named Harry Wrona, who shook Bird’s hand and looked him square in the eye and said. “Mike tells me you’re here to learn the ropes. Well, I’m here to make sure that you don’t string yourself up with any of it.”
Bird didn’t quite know what to make of Harry Wrona. He was out playing on a weekday so that told Bird that he either was really rich and didn’t have to work or he was just smart enough to be able to work and play golf too.
“I know Parco probably told you about his rules.” Harry said as they were walking up the fairway with Bird pulling his clubs on a cart. “Well, forget about that shit. You want to learn anything you gotta ask a lot of questions.”
Bird didn’t quite know what to make of this. But he figured he should probably ask some questions.
“So what is it that you do that allows you to be out on the golf course on a Monday?”
“I sell booze, kiddo. Best job there is because the stuff sells itself and none of my customers get to work before four PM.
Harry was on the cusp between an A and a B player, which meant that he had a handicap, of around 12. Bird noticed that he didn’t drive the ball or hit the longer irons very far, but his shots were all straight as an arrow. Once he got up within a hundred yards of the green, however, he was deadly accurate.
As they walked along, Harry told Bird about the back surgery he had had about ten years earlier, which left him with the inability to make a full swing at the ball. Before the surgery, he was what’s known as a scratch golfer, which meant his handicap was zero and he could have, had he wanted to, turned pro. But Harry knew a few pros and told Bird that they would have eaten his lunch. Bird had never heard that expression before but he took it to mean they would have clobbered him.
Bird’s first round with Harry Wrona went off without a hitch. In fact, he came away with a very good sense of what this caddying stuff was really all about. And Harry must have been pleased too because he gave Bird a five-dollar tip, shook his hand and told him that this would be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, whatever that meant.
Eriedowns was Bird’s first encounter with people who were genuinely rich and over the course of that season he got to know a lot of them. Harry played with some of the best players in the club. They were almost a little social club, yakking away to each other all the way round the course, playing great golf, but instead of keeping track of their strokes, which they left to their caddies, they kept track of the side bets they made with each other on every hole. These guys were gambling fanatics, and listening to their stories really taught bird a lot about life in the real world.
In his second summer, Bird was promoted to the pro shop where he got clubs out for the players and cleaned them and stowed them when they were finished. Toward the end of the day, he would take an electric cart out onto the driving range and scoop up the practice balls that the players had hit. After a while, he started bringing a couple of clubs from the unclaimed bag section out to the tee, hitting a bucket of balls before heading out to retrieve them all. He also did some caddying but just for Harry Wrona and a couple of the other ‘A’ players and got to be very good at judging distances. He was also growing up and growing stronger from all the exercise he was getting on the course, schlepping clubs and caddying.
During that second season, Mike Parco decided to retire and a new pro named Jim McKitterick showed up. He sat everybody down and introduced himself, and told the four kids working in the shop that he had no intention of changing anything. Everybody breathed a sigh of relief over that, because as summer jobs went, it was a pretty good gig.
One of the other advantages of working at a country club like Eriedowns was that after all the work was done they, could head out onto the course with an electric cart and play a round.
Bird and his work partner, Billy, liked to practice and play together and since both of them were A-level caddies they understood the mechanics of the golf swing very well and could easily analyze each other’s swings. Over the course of that summer they played at least 30 rounds together and got to know the course like the back of their hands.
It was a beautifully laid out course and one which rewarded the players who could hit the ball the straightest. Over that summer, they both got pretty good at handling it. Then, in the middle of the week on a very hot, slow day. Bird and Billy played a round in the late afternoon. Billy shot a 67 and Bird a 71. A first for both of them on the par 72 course.
When they returned to the clubhouse, they signed each other’s cards and put them on Jim McKitterick’s desk. Three days later, Billy didn’t show up for work. When Bird asked where he was, Jim McKitterick just said. “He’s gone for an interview at a golf school in Buffalo. They’ll teach him how to be a pro.
“Wow. That’s great.” Bird said.
You’re probably wondering why I didn’t recommend you as well.”
“No not really.” Bird said. “Billy lives and breathes this game. I like it, but I don’t love it like he does.”
Jim McKitterick then reached into his desk and pulled out a small notebook that had Bird’s name on it.
“You left this on the counter one night.”
Bird was taken aback. He had looked everywhere for that book. He had thought it was lost forever.
“Billy, he’s a golfer.” McKitterick said, Then he tapped the notebook. “But you, Bird, you’re a writer.”
“Oh that. That’s just a lot of foolin’ around.”
“And that’s how it starts…just foolin’ around. You finish high school, Bird. Then go to college, then learn to fine-tune this raw skill you have.”
“You really think I could do that?”
“Son, three days ago you and Billy both did something on this course that very few people can. So you can do anything you want.”
Bird didn’t debate that, because, in that moment, he understood what his boss was trying to tell him. And, in that same moment, the little compartment in his head where he kept all his plans and dreams bottled up, busted open. Riding home, he thought his head was going to explode. He got so emotional that he had to stop. He just sat there with one foot on the curb and cried his eyes out. It was the first time in his young life that he was crying because he was happy.
