When I first started playing golf, I thought the game was about direct lines. Pick a target. Align the body. Swing the club. And move swiftly. Success seemed measured by straight shots and clean scorecards. But age, failure, work, love, setbacks, parenthood, loss, and grace have all taught me something life and golf never reveal to the young:
The longest distances are often covered gently.
Not every challenge is overcome by force. Not every gain comes through aggression. Not every mistake can be erased with the next swing. Sometimes the wisest play is simply to leave yourself close enough for the next one.
A good lag putt.
And there may be no better place to relearn that lesson than at The Resort at Pelican Hill.
The club’s 36 magnificent holes sit along bluffs and rolling ridgelines near Newport Beach, California. The resort feels like a Tuscan hillside village, with Mediterranean touches of stucco walls and tile clay-colored roofs perched above the Pacific. Major renovations are underway and scheduled for completion this fall, but even amid renewal the place loses none of its splendor.
I played two rounds, both on the par-71 North Course. The fairways were generous enough to contain even my occasional errant drives. The greens were much less forgiving. Never before have I hit so many in regulation and walked away with so few pars or birdies. On the rare occasions where I missed them, a double bogey often waited nearby.
Time and again I held my breath as putts across the Tom Fazio-designed putting surfaces refused to lose the speed I prayed they would. On that Saturday afternoon and the following morning I longed for just a good lag putt.
Hole after hole my ball rolled well past the cup to set me up for tap-in bogeys and double bogeys rather than pars. But the best part of the weekend was never recorded on the scorecard. It was the time spent with my dear friends, Kevin and Kathryne Reeves.
Our friendship began years ago with a chance encounter in front of a small white country church in Rocky Mount, North Carolina, a moment so brief it might easily have been forgotten. It was reignited years later when a stranger, unaware our paths had ever crossed, asked Kevin to host me on a golf course in Ohio during my quest to play America’s greatest golf courses in a single year.
Drawn together by our shared passion for golf, Kevin and I became instant friends. Soon we introduced our wives. Amid common professional experiences, warm conversation and a mutual appreciation for well-earned spa experiences, they too became fast friends. Since then we have sought out places where golf, spas and companionship can equally be enjoyed.
Few settings could have suited that purpose better than Pelican Hill Resort. There was unrushed conversation over breakfast in nearby Laguna Beach at Las Brisas, with its panoramic views of the coastline. There was laughter and reflection over dinner at Ocean 48 in Newport Beach. There were stories about where life has taken us, and honest conversations about where life is taking our children.
For a moment, time slowed down.
At this stage in life, the comfort of those who know each of your stories and still choose your company feels every bit as satisfying as a good lag putt.
