Vagneur: Memories on the golfing circuit
Tony Vagneur/Courtesy photo
Making the news lately has been the fact that golf passes for the coming season are going on sale, and there are changes to policies at the Aspen Municipal Golf Course. Got me to thinking about my days as a golfer and the passes I used to buy.
Going back a few years, each weekday morning at 6:30 a.m. as I drove to work at my part-time college gig as a Denver school bus driver, I had to pass a lovely, peaceful-looking golf course, which always made me think how nice and relaxed it must be to play golf. Where to start?
That summer, my uncle Vic Goodhard, my summer employer, asked if I had any interest in learning to play golf.
“Hell, yes,” I shot back before he had even finished asking the question. That started an odyssey of a couple summer vacations worth of he and I playing golf almost every afternoon at the Aspen Municipal Golf Course, only nine holes at the time. A part of my heart still lives there.
Unlike today, there wasn’t an issue with tee times, and we got there when we got there, always welcomed by Yvan Tache, golf pro. On a good day, Red Soderstrom would join us, his knowledgeable advice and experience always welcome.
Naturally, going to school on the Eastern Slope provided a much longer golf season, and when back in school, I managed to play 3 or 4 days a week, finagling my way around assignments, work, and looming tests whenever I could manage it.
Down the road from my house was a great golf course, abandoned by a country club for some reason and open to the public. I’d usually play that a time or two a week, and there came the day I was put in a 3-some with two guys and an attractive, blond, 40-something woman. The men were quite good and only interested in gambling between themselves, leaving the woman and I ample opportunity to commiserate. When we finished, she said she lived close by and would I like to join her for lunch. How many so-called lunches we had can’t be said, but we whiled away a few afternoons tangling up the sheets, usually after a round of golf.
After graduation and getting back into horses and ranching, there wasn’t much time for golf, but then, after going to work for a Fortune 500 company, golfing almost became a requirement. Everywhere I traveled as an employee, we generally played multiple rounds, usually laughed our asses off, drank some beers, and had a great time. Once in Florida, my errantly-hit ball hooked into the brushy rough, and looking for it, I came face-to-face with an all-but-sleeping alligator. The ball may still be lying there.
But my golfing days were numbered.
The family ranch, haying, and horses began to take up more of my time and interest. The last golf pass I bought sat mostly unused. I made one almost-last attempt at a charity tournament in Glenwood, a couple of years after I hadn’t played much. The foursome I was in was pretty bad, even though it was best ball, and as we came around the clubhouse after a shotgun start, the owner and president of Alpine Bank, Bob Young, pulled up in his personalized golf cart and offered that he would travel with us for a few holes, offering some expertise along the way.
Fine, thank you, we said, and it was my turn to lead off, on what used to be the par 4, number one hole at the Ironbridge course. With a steady eye, a sure swing, and a sometimes true #1 driver, I put the ball within two feet of the hole, a very difficult shot. Mr. Young drove away without a word, leaving me to savor what turned out to be the last good long drive I’ve ever hit in this lifetime. So far, anyway.
The last time I played, it was with my daughter and some of her high school friends at the par 3 Roaring Fork course, near the home of the old Stagecoach. Not sure what I was thinking, like maybe I could handle a par 3; I pulled a muscle in my forearm on about the third hole and struggled to finish.
An old, brown golf bag, full of left-handed clubs sits in my garage, awaiting my return to the circuit. Not exactly sure in which, or what, scenario that is going to happen.
A big shout-out to my friend Rob Bandy, otherwise known as Zo, Zamboni operator at the ARC and grounds manager at the Aspen Golf Course.
Tony Vagneur writes here on Saturdays and welcomes your comments at ajv@sopris.net.
Tony Vagneur writes here on Saturdays and welcomes your comments at ajv@sopris.net.
