Old Rascal GC plays host to the first Dirtbag Cup
FUN
Apr 3, 2024
Old Rascal GC plays host to the first Dirtbag Cup
FUN
Apr 3, 2024
Old Rascal GC plays host to the first Dirtbag Cup
FUN
Apr 3, 2024
If you give a mid-30's dad a sand wedge, cont'd
Before even finishing the initial construction of Old Rascal, (my ridiculous backyard golf course,) I was thinking about how fun it would be to go beyond having the occasional friend over, and hosting a full on tournament. So after a few months of fine tuning and collecting feedback from friends and family, I felt the time was right.
Offering our home up for Easter with Katie’s extended family provided the perfect opportunity. I sent out a formal invitation to cement the tournament in the day’s agenda, and went to work. I let the rough grow extra long to heighten the definition of the greens and place more emphasis on accuracy in determining the day's champion. Scorecards were readied, patron seating configured, and every detail inside and out was scoured, trimmed, and polished.
If you give a mid-30's dad a sand wedge, cont'd
Before even finishing the initial construction of Old Rascal, (my ridiculous backyard golf course,) I was thinking about how fun it would be to go beyond having the occasional friend over, and hosting a full on tournament. So after a few months of fine tuning and collecting feedback from friends and family, I felt the time was right.
Offering our home up for Easter with Katie’s extended family provided the perfect opportunity. I sent out a formal invitation to cement the tournament in the day’s agenda, and went to work. I let the rough grow extra long to heighten the definition of the greens and place more emphasis on accuracy in determining the day's champion. Scorecards were readied, patron seating configured, and every detail inside and out was scoured, trimmed, and polished.
If you give a mid-30's dad a sand wedge, cont'd
Before even finishing the initial construction of Old Rascal, (my ridiculous backyard golf course,) I was thinking about how fun it would be to go beyond having the occasional friend over, and hosting a full on tournament. So after a few months of fine tuning and collecting feedback from friends and family, I felt the time was right.
Offering our home up for Easter with Katie’s extended family provided the perfect opportunity. I sent out a formal invitation to cement the tournament in the day’s agenda, and went to work. I let the rough grow extra long to heighten the definition of the greens and place more emphasis on accuracy in determining the day's champion. Scorecards were readied, patron seating configured, and every detail inside and out was scoured, trimmed, and polished.
Tournament vibes
After an absurdly large family brunch and the traditional kid's egg hunt, it was time to begin. I gathered alongside Papa, Brandon, Jevin, Brett, and my son Beck at the first tee. With my six year old’s opening shot, the inaugural tournament at Old Rascal was underway.
The coolness in the air and expanse of thick green carpet practically demanded that players and spectators alike remove their shoes and take delight in each plushy footstep. While the boys played, the girls of the family sipped iced tea from the comfort of their lawn chairs in the gallery. Their reactions and light applause provided the perfect backdrop for the tournament atmosphere. My favorite unplanned moment of the day was when the girls decided to try their hand at a couple holes while we were taking a break at the turn. Some lighthearted family fun was a welcome addition, reminding me of one of golf's most beloved traditions: The Masters Par 3 Contest.
Not a normal sight for a course, our dogs Olive and Charlie were especially fun to include in the festivities. Aside from the occasional squirrel chase, they mostly alternated between being in the action and lapping up attention from anyone not in mid-swing.
I started off hitting quite well, but struggled to capitalize around the greens, rounding the turn two strokes back from the leaders.
Fortunately, I found my form when it mattered most on the more challenging back nine. I roared back with a surge of momentum on ten and eleven, hunting pins and notching my first two birdies back-to-back. My wealth of experience with the course was on full display, seizing opportune moments to be aggressive and skillfully limiting the damage where others received punishing blows.
Going into the number one handicap 17th, it looked like I had all but sealed the victory, when disaster struck.
Misjudging the distance required for the dogleg right, I was forced to lay up. Letting frustration cloud my judgement, I took an unwise risk to try and save par. My overly aggressive shot trickled off the back edge of the green, leaving me with an almost impossible up and down.
Settling for double bogey, a comfortable three stroke lead evaporated down to one, giving my chasers fresh hope to respond and force a playoff.
Tournament vibes
After an absurdly large family brunch and the traditional kid's egg hunt, it was time to begin. I gathered alongside Papa, Brandon, Jevin, Brett, and my son Beck at the first tee. With my six year old’s opening shot, the inaugural tournament at Old Rascal was underway.
The coolness in the air and expanse of thick green carpet practically demanded that players and spectators alike remove their shoes and take delight in each plushy footstep. While the boys played, the girls of the family sipped iced tea from the comfort of their lawn chairs in the gallery. Their reactions and light applause provided the perfect backdrop for the tournament atmosphere. My favorite unplanned moment of the day was when the girls decided to try their hand at a couple holes while we were taking a break at the turn. Some lighthearted family fun was a welcome addition, reminding me of one of golf's most beloved traditions: The Masters Par 3 Contest.
Not a normal sight for a course, our dogs Olive and Charlie were especially fun to include in the festivities. Aside from the occasional squirrel chase, they mostly alternated between being in the action and lapping up attention from anyone not in mid-swing.
I started off hitting quite well, but struggled to capitalize around the greens, rounding the turn two strokes back from the leaders.
Fortunately, I found my form when it mattered most on the more challenging back nine. I roared back with a surge of momentum on ten and eleven, hunting pins and notching my first two birdies back-to-back. My wealth of experience with the course was on full display, seizing opportune moments to be aggressive and skillfully limiting the damage where others received punishing blows.
Going into the number one handicap 17th, it looked like I had all but sealed the victory, when disaster struck.
Misjudging the distance required for the dogleg right, I was forced to lay up. Letting frustration cloud my judgement, I took an unwise risk to try and save par. My overly aggressive shot trickled off the back edge of the green, leaving me with an almost impossible up and down.
Settling for double bogey, a comfortable three stroke lead evaporated down to one, giving my chasers fresh hope to respond and force a playoff.
Tournament vibes
After an absurdly large family brunch and the traditional kid's egg hunt, it was time to begin. I gathered alongside Papa, Brandon, Jevin, Brett, and my son Beck at the first tee. With my six year old’s opening shot, the inaugural tournament at Old Rascal was underway.
The coolness in the air and expanse of thick green carpet practically demanded that players and spectators alike remove their shoes and take delight in each plushy footstep. While the boys played, the girls of the family sipped iced tea from the comfort of their lawn chairs in the gallery. Their reactions and light applause provided the perfect backdrop for the tournament atmosphere. My favorite unplanned moment of the day was when the girls decided to try their hand at a couple holes while we were taking a break at the turn. Some lighthearted family fun was a welcome addition, reminding me of one of golf's most beloved traditions: The Masters Par 3 Contest.
Not a normal sight for a course, our dogs Olive and Charlie were especially fun to include in the festivities. Aside from the occasional squirrel chase, they mostly alternated between being in the action and lapping up attention from anyone not in mid-swing.
I started off hitting quite well, but struggled to capitalize around the greens, rounding the turn two strokes back from the leaders.
Fortunately, I found my form when it mattered most on the more challenging back nine. I roared back with a surge of momentum on ten and eleven, hunting pins and notching my first two birdies back-to-back. My wealth of experience with the course was on full display, seizing opportune moments to be aggressive and skillfully limiting the damage where others received punishing blows.
Going into the number one handicap 17th, it looked like I had all but sealed the victory, when disaster struck.
Misjudging the distance required for the dogleg right, I was forced to lay up. Letting frustration cloud my judgement, I took an unwise risk to try and save par. My overly aggressive shot trickled off the back edge of the green, leaving me with an almost impossible up and down.
Settling for double bogey, a comfortable three stroke lead evaporated down to one, giving my chasers fresh hope to respond and force a playoff.
A test of true grit
The tournament’s drama reached its pinnacle on the final hole. While I managed to find the fairway, my ball stopped well short of the optimal position, narrowly clearing the dogleg that obscured the green.
With a lot of ground left to cover, I could play safe and likely enter a playoff, or keep on the attack and aim to close the door on my opponents then and there.
Steeling my nerves for what could be a tournament-defining shot, I embraced boldness, swinging hard to send a high fade sailing towards the green.
Tracking well, my fate hanging in the balance, the ball finally touched down, landing softly just inches from the pin and settling close. In the hushed stillness of twilight, a tap-in par etched my name in Old Rascal history as the first champion to claim the Dirtbag Cup.
A test of true grit
The tournament’s drama reached its pinnacle on the final hole. While I managed to find the fairway, my ball stopped well short of the optimal position, narrowly clearing the dogleg that obscured the green.
With a lot of ground left to cover, I could play safe and likely enter a playoff, or keep on the attack and aim to close the door on my opponents then and there.
Steeling my nerves for what could be a tournament-defining shot, I embraced boldness, swinging hard to send a high fade sailing towards the green.
Tracking well, my fate hanging in the balance, the ball finally touched down, landing softly just inches from the pin and settling close. In the hushed stillness of twilight, a tap-in par etched my name in Old Rascal history as the first champion to claim the Dirtbag Cup.
A test of true grit
The tournament’s drama reached its pinnacle on the final hole. While I managed to find the fairway, my ball stopped well short of the optimal position, narrowly clearing the dogleg that obscured the green.
With a lot of ground left to cover, I could play safe and likely enter a playoff, or keep on the attack and aim to close the door on my opponents then and there.
Steeling my nerves for what could be a tournament-defining shot, I embraced boldness, swinging hard to send a high fade sailing towards the green.
Tracking well, my fate hanging in the balance, the ball finally touched down, landing softly just inches from the pin and settling close. In the hushed stillness of twilight, a tap-in par etched my name in Old Rascal history as the first champion to claim the Dirtbag Cup.
The Rascal lives on
With how wonderfully the day unfolded, my spirits wouldn't have been dampened if I played poorly. But topping it all off knowing that I did my late grandad, (the course’s namesake,) proud by finding courage in adversity and bringing home the trophy is something that I’ll forever cherish. I can’t help thinking how much The Rascal loved every detail of the day and laughed along with us.
If you’re wondering where things go from here, you clearly haven’t been paying attention. With each new idea and hit of dopamine I’m emboldened to further craft and enhance the fanfare, stories, and tradition of Old Rascal.
And it certainly doesn’t hurt that The Masters, also known as the month of April, just began.
When once a year, even the uninitiated are drawn into golf’s epicenter, there’s no telling what can happen.
The Rascal lives on
With how wonderfully the day unfolded, my spirits wouldn't have been dampened if I played poorly. But topping it all off knowing that I did my late grandad, (the course’s namesake,) proud by finding courage in adversity and bringing home the trophy is something that I’ll forever cherish. I can’t help thinking how much The Rascal loved every detail of the day and laughed along with us.
If you’re wondering where things go from here, you clearly haven’t been paying attention. With each new idea and hit of dopamine I’m emboldened to further craft and enhance the fanfare, stories, and tradition of Old Rascal.
And it certainly doesn’t hurt that The Masters, also known as the month of April, just began.
When once a year, even the uninitiated are drawn into golf’s epicenter, there’s no telling what can happen.
The Rascal lives on
With how wonderfully the day unfolded, my spirits wouldn't have been dampened if I played poorly. But topping it all off knowing that I did my late grandad, (the course’s namesake,) proud by finding courage in adversity and bringing home the trophy is something that I’ll forever cherish. I can’t help thinking how much The Rascal loved every detail of the day and laughed along with us.
If you’re wondering where things go from here, you clearly haven’t been paying attention. With each new idea and hit of dopamine I’m emboldened to further craft and enhance the fanfare, stories, and tradition of Old Rascal.
And it certainly doesn’t hurt that The Masters, also known as the month of April, just began.
When once a year, even the uninitiated are drawn into golf’s epicenter, there’s no telling what can happen.
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Let's talk.
Thanks for stopping by ✌️
Made with love in Fort Worth, TX
GET IN TOUCH
Got ideas?
Let's talk.
Thanks for stopping by ✌️
Made with love in Fort Worth, TX