Fore!! (First) Tee Minutes of Hell

For those who have ever played golf, you likely know the feeling. Standing atop the first tee box can be a bit nerve-wracking. The butterflies are plentiful, akin to public speaking for an introvert or those afraid of heights peering over the edge of the high dive with the seeming ravage waters of a swimming pool looming below.

The game of golf is a relatively simple concept. Take a club and hit the ball from a tee until eventually depositing it in a hole. Sounds straight forward enough – even if often the shots themselves are rarely straight and not always forward.

In most cases, players hit a few balls on the range before arriving for your assigned tee time. Yet, there is something different when you step up for that opening salvo of what will be an 18-hole war waged with a difficult course and an even more challenging battle with yourself.  There is a reason that most weekend golf foursomes allow players to hit two balls off the tee. It is almost a universally recognized and accepted casualty of the game.

Often after that first shot, things settle in and the game becomes less daunting and a bit more enjoyable. Even for those of us not blessed with a scratch handicap, golf is a welcome respite from the everyday, a chance to socialize while enjoying the beauty of nature.

For years I was fortunate to participate in Arkansas legend and Hall of Fame Basketball Coach Nolan Richardson’s summer golf tournament at Pinnacle Country Club. Coach Richardson would invite his coaching colleagues from all over the nation to come to Northwest Arkansas for multiple days of golf, plenty of food and fellowship and most importantly raising money for various charities as part of the Nolan Richardson Charity Golf Tournament.

It was always a Who’s Who of the college basketball world with many of the nation’s marquee coaches in tow. I have fond memories of playing in the same group with former Iowa head coach Dr. Tom Davis and even a young and up and coming Bruce Pearl, then at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee.

Coach Richardson loves the game of golf and for years spent time honing his game on the range at Paradise Valley Country Club in Fayetteville or walking the course at Springdale Country Club. One afternoon, I found myself in a foursome with Coach Richardson. What I recall from that experience is that much like his fast-break style of basketball, after Coach Richardson hit his tee shot, he would immediately start walking toward his ball in the fairway. By the time you got to the tee box yourself, you were not only trying to navigate your ball to bend with the subtle dogleg left of the hole, but also avoid the Razorback legend walking down the first cut of rough.

To help raise awareness for his annual summer tournament, Coach Richardson would invite members of the media to Pinnacle to hear details about the upcoming event. After a short press conference and a catered lunch, media members would have the opportunity to play a round of golf.

Now, after 30 years in the business, with more than a few of them filling out the teams for a media golf scramble, I can tell you that not all players are equal when it comes to skills on the links. It would make sense that those of us who work in sports for a living are doing so out of an acknowledgment of our passion for the games as well as an admission of our limited proficiency for participating in them.

One of the advantages of organizing the media golf outing was securing a spot to play. On this particular occasion, following lunch and the press conference I scurried toward the first hole to join the final media foursome. By the time, I reached the group on the first tee, the first three golfers of the group had already sprayed their tee shots to the left and to the right, leaving the fairway wide open. I hurriedly grabbed my driver stepped to the tee and began my mental gymnastics.

At that point in my golf game, a right turn of the ball off the club was almost all but guaranteed. So, as is the responsible course of action for any habitual slicer, I aimed left so the ball could eventually end somewhere within a reasonable proximity to play. What I lacked in confidence and skill, I made up for in club head speed. I lunged forward and connected violently with the ball.

Consistent with the game plan, my tee shot started left of the fairway. Contrary to the game plan, my tee shot was pulled dead left and was on a line. To the left of the first tee box and approximately 100 yards away was the edge of the driving range. And just my luck there were golfers on the near side of the range, including a large imposing figure on the end with a straw brimmed hat.

As the ball careened toward the edge of the range, I dutifully screamed “Fore,” a stately gentlemen’s language for “I hit a horrible shot and your life may be in danger.” As I watched the ball continue its errant path, I realized the man in the straw hat in peril was our host for the day – Coach Nolan Richardson. As others joined in the chorus of warning, Coach Richardson raised up from his pre-shot crouch just in time for the scalding ball to whiz under one arm, sizzle by his chest and escape under the other arm, passing like a shooting star.

Coach Richardson was startled, but safe. His straw hat was the only thing that hit the ground. Coach Richardson acknowledged he was unharmed, although I was not sure at the moment whether my continued employment would be.

I was thankful and relieved, at least until I realized the whole scenario had played out in front of a bunch of radio talk show hosts and newspaper writers. As you might imagine, the account would be replayed in various mediums for weeks. After all, there is not a lot to talk about in the summertime.

Magnanimously, the following year Coach Richardson invited me back to emcee the tournament press conference and play in the media scramble again. Predictably, the story was recounted, and I thanked Coach Richardson for giving me a provisional opportunity to make it right. As we finished the press conference, I announced I had a special gift for Coach Richardson that he might find useful.

I pulled out a Razorback baseball batting helmet and placed it on his head. As cameras flashed and smiles abound, Coach Richardson rumbled with laughter as he recalled that harrowing moment. Soon we all followed his lead and found ourselves, once again, Rollin’ with Nolan.

Razorback Road is a column written by Senior Associate Athletic Director for Public Relations and Former Student-Athlete Engagement Kevin Trainor (@KTHogs). Trainor is a graduate of the University of Arkansas and has worked for Razorback Athletics for more than 25 years.