“It has been said that it helps to be stupid in playing golf. That cynical observation is far wide of the mark, although there are some excellent golfers who are not mental giants, as the term is customarily used.” -Tommy Armour
It was time to hit away and by tradition The Open champion went first. The first hole was a deceptively simple looking par 4. As with most links golf, the green appeared enticingly apparent and available around 368 yards away, protected by nothing other than a creek, which Clarence called a cilfach, which was also the name of the hole, along its front edge. The cilfach had a name in Welsh that was famously unpronounceable but in 2022 everyone just called it a burn. The fairway was relatively flat but out-of-bounds was close on the right.
Hagen hit a soft fade that came to rest around 40 yards from the cilfach and another 40 yards to the pin sitting on the back of the large green. Hagen’s 285 yard drive was a full 55 yards further than Morgan’s best drives during his practice session. As tempted as he was to aim at Hagen’s ball and swing away with his driver, Morgan decided on par and asked Clarence for his brassie, a club that had been consistent for him that morning.
“He’s a thinker,” said Hagen as Clarence handed Morgan the brassie. He hit a decent drive, maybe a little shy of the 200 yards he’d noted for the brassie on his scrap of paper. That left something like 165 to the center of the green, a baffie or a cleek, but Morgan wasn’t going for the green on his second shot. The most consistent and accurate club from his morning session had been the last minute addition, the rut niblick, or pitching wedge. He was going to lay up on his second shot and then go for the pin on his third, hopefully leaving an easy par put.
The plan was 100 yards on his second shot with his niblick. The danger was that a mis-hit might put him into the water.
“I’m thinking we come up short of the creek, the burn, and then use the rut to get close to the hole for par,” Morgan told Clarence as they walked.
“Aye, it’s a good plan if you can manage it,” said Clarence, “for the first hole at least and with the breeze.”
“You don’t like it?” asked Morgan.
“The green in two I like fair enough but the green in three will do if you’re a marksman and can put it close.”
His ball only just cleared the furthest fairway bunker, rolling to rest on flat ground not more than 20 yards behind Hagen. He checked the club face and saw that his strike had been slightly off center. He liked these 1922 golf balls that left more evidence behind.
Morgan stole a glance at The Open Champion. Hagen was nodding and smiling, apparently pleased. “You’ve started a conversation with this golf course, here and now,” he said.
The 20 yards difference may not have been consequential. Hagen managed a two putt for par while Morgan had a two putt for bogey. His other playing companions had reached the green in two but bogeyed with three putts. Morgan considered it a good hole, nevertheless.
As they walked off the green, Hagen looked over at Morgan but spoke to Kay. “Can I give you some advice on your swing, Captain?”
Kay smiled and shook his head. “Nah, I’ve told you before, Haig. I’m not that sort of golfer.”
“What sort are you?” ask Hagen, still looking at Morgan.
“I’m free, a free golfer.”
Hagen raised his eyebrows and thumbed in Kay’s direction as if to say “get a load of this guy,” but it was clear he had known what Kay’s answer would be and liked hearing it.
“What the hell does that mean?” asked Hagen.
At this point, Kay seemed to catch on to the fact that Morgan was actually his audience.
“For some reason Haig likes to listen to me prattle on about this, though it’s usually over drinks. It’s very simple really. I love the game of golf, more than perhaps I should and certainly more than it deserves. I love playing golf, watching golf, reading about golf, and talking about golf; but I’ll not let it boss me. I don’t wager because I have only the vaguest notion of my handicap. I keep score when it’s either fun or necessary and if it’s not fun or necessary, I don’t. What I want to feel, what success means to me is freedom. If I don’t feel free when I’m playing golf then I’m failing at golf. It’s not for everyone, but it is for me. Haig here loves winning, or the money that goes with winning. Good on him.”
That’s some Bagger Vance in the Kingdom shit, thought Morgan. It wasn’t generally his cup of tea but he had to admit, he too enjoyed hearing Kay talk about it. Maybe it was the accent.
“I love freedom too,” said Hagen, “and money is freedom.”
“Ah, yes,” answered Kay. “Master money.”
Chuckling, Hagen said, “I don’t think I can argue with that.”
The outcome on the first hole remained a pattern for the next four holes, Hagen shooting one shot better than Morgan and Kay. Lance dropped a shot with a double bogie on three. After five, Hagen was three under, Kay and Morgan were three over, and Lance was four over. Morgan felt like he was achieving his goal of not embarrassing Kay or the club. On the sixth hole the pattern shifted.
It looked like a short and simple par three, 164 yards but most of it covered in tall fescue except for a narrow walking path from tee to green. The hole was named Fescue.
“I’m not having a lot of luck spinning the ball,” said Morgan.
“Why would you want the ball to spin?” asked Clarence. “You want it to run.”
“What if I was the boss of the ball, and I could make it spin or not spin depending on the hole and conditions.”
“You’d play low here, tickling the tops of the grass where it don’t matter, but it’s a fine thing, Mr. Morgan, between where the grass don’t matter and where it can tug your ball down. Let it run once it passes the tall grass, if you can, the fescue as you say, and let it breathe fresh air, let the ball escape.”
“A low stinger,” said Morgan.
“In a manner of speaking, that’s okay, if what you mean is to stay low as the wind is coming on,” said Clarence.
The wind gusted as Clarence started to pull out the mid mashie but Morgan waved it off. “I’m going to try a soft cleek.”
“Not your straightest club,” said Clarence.
“No, not at a full swing, but I’m going to choke up and back off and that green is really big.” Morgan pushed the Reddy Tee deep into the grass and then took a few extra practice swings, trying both to wait out the wind and get a feel for a short swing and the right swing speed.
He moved his hands two inches down the shaft, took just more than a half swing, let his wrists get further ahead than usual, and didn’t take a divot. His first thought was he’d still hit it too hard and the ball would bounce off the green into the fescue on the other side. Then he thought he’d hit it too low and the ball would die in the fescue on this side of the green. Neither happened. His ball just cleared the tall grass and hit the collar of the green, which checked its speed considerably as it bounced onto the green and started rolling toward the hole.
That’s a birdie, he thought, but the ball was still rolling and the two dozen people around the green who were following their group began to chatter excitedly. When it went in the hole they erupted in cheers. Clarence started jumping up and down and screaming something in Welsh, and before he realized what he was doing Morgan was taking a victory lap around the tee box, his arms in the air. It was the fifth ace of his life as a golfer, only his second during any kind of competitive round.
Everyone in his group was laughing and clapping. Hagen said, “Everything about that, from the moment you selected a club to right now was fun to watch and if you’re not having fun out here you’re missing the whole damn point. Golf can be math, but sometimes you need to do the math with your heart.”
When they reached the green Morgan stopped. “Go get it Clarence, it belongs to you now.”
“Tidy,” said Clarence as he ran to the hole to retrieve the ball. The other caddies followed him and they all stared at the ball in his hand, as if it might show some sign of being a hole-in-one golf ball.
“Diolch yn fawr iawn, Mr. Hanks,” Clarence called.
Morgan looked over at Kay. “He says thank you very much,” Kay explained.
Before he could ask it, Kay answered his next question. “You can say croeso in return.”
When Clarence returned to the bag, Morgan said, “Croeso, Clarence, you’ve certainly earned it. I can sign it later if you like.”
“Yes, please,” said Clarence, finally pocketing the golf ball as everyone turned their attention to Lance who was putting his fourth stroke from the furthest edge of the large green.
Morgan parred the next seven holes, remaining at one over, while Hagen had an unexpected double bogey at the 398 yard par four 13th hole, named Cathedral. Flying the green he ended up in a thick patch of gorse.
“Wrong club,” he said, immediately after making contact with the ball, before it even found the bushes.
“That was mistake number four,” he said to Morgan. “I make seven or eight every game.”
“Just seven or eight?” asked Morgan.
“Usually seven, sometimes eight. Golf humbles even the very best players.” Hagen proceeded to demonstrate that his reputation for creativity was earned when he hit his ball out of a gorse bush, left handed, with his niblick flipped upside down.
“Why is this hole nicknamed Cathedral?” Morgan asked Clarence.
“Because the green is elevated,” Clarence answered, clapping his hands in prayer and looking toward heaven.
A Connecticut Golfer on King Arthur's Course 
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