How Peanut Butter Toast Led To A Course Record At Beverly Country Club

In the past week, I’ve had a unique opportunity to reflect on the game of golf. I realize that golf is far more than score and far more than individual achievement. It’s less the number of times you hit a little white ball across a parcel of land and more about camaraderie, more about community, and more about connections. It’s the time shared in between the golf shots that can be the most rewarding. 

But, sometimes something special does happen -- and something special did happen at Beverly Country Club on Sunday, June 24 -- when these occurrences happen, our connections on the course only become stronger. 

The round of my life

62. 

I can’t believe it. 

After the round, I sat in front of my locker in complete shock. Everyone else was elated. 

I can’t tell you how many came to congratulate me, but members were so excited, they called their matches short to greet me and even came in from their homes. They celebrated the remarkable feat while some ribbed me that I would have never shot such a score if they had kept all the trees (even though I probably still would have). And they all wanted to celebrate and hear the play-by-play. 

Well, it started that morning with gluten-free toast, peanut butter, and coffee. It wasn’t remarkable, but it was stable. Familiar. 

I arrived at the club later than I wanted. I had just 25 minutes before our start time and could only stretch, hit five or six balls and a handful of putts. I didn’t even hit anything particularly well in my practice; I even said to a fellow member on the range, “You dance with the one you brought, right?”

After the round, that same member reminded me I said that. 

My foursome was made up of me and three strangers -- a dentist, a banker, and an oil man from Houston. (Calling Kyle Singles for a punchline…) I knew right away they were three wonderful human beings with one thing in common -- the love of golf. 

We ended up splitting into two teams according to handicap, and agreed on a simple game of $5 Nassau, no presses. That was perfect for the day. It wasn’t about the match or the score, it was only about meeting new people at my home club. The company and discussion were great even before the first tee. The golf, for a moment, was secondary. 

The play-by-play

Hole 1, par 4

Hole number one at Beverly Country Club is much like the club itself, warm, friendly, and welcoming. It often lures visitors into a false sense of security before the teeth of the front nine come biting down. 

I followed up a nice tee shot by a terrible wedge, leaving myself 30 feet straight down hill. Just the day before I was a three-putt master, so my walk to mark my ball was uneasy. But the few putts I did hit on the practice green to reset my pace paid off. I lagged it down the slippery slope to tap-in range. 

My inner dialogue? "What a difference just one day makes." 

(Even par)

Hole 2, par 5

I played the hole nearly the way I wanted to, leaving myself a 10-foot slider for birdie. Fortunately, I curled the putt down the hill to drop for a four. 

“Stop leaving your approach above the hole, you dummy." 

(1 under)

Hole 3, par 3

I listened to that inner dialogue a bit better. A 30-footer straight up hill. 

“Nice, today is turning out to be a good day.”

(2 under)

Hole 4, par 4

Some say number four is out of place for a championship track. It’s land locked on the southeast side of the property, and it’s a short, sharp dog leg left. But Beverly’s grounds committee and Donald Ross consultants Tyler Rae and Ron Prichard redesigned the hole to bring three total tee boxes with drastically different angles for a strategically interesting hole. From the back tees, the trees on the left block a direct line to the green, leaving only two or three spots as your target. Thankfully, I was able to hit one of those spots with a driving iron, giving me an open look to the green. A wedge to 12 feet and another birdie. 

“The driving iron was this year’s best golf equipment purchase." 

(3 under)

Hole 5, par 4

An uneventful two-putt par. 

"Did my partner get a stroke there?" 

(Still at 3 under)

Hole 6, par 3

This downhill par three plays over par in most major tournaments held at the club. It would be my first real adversity of the day. I missed short side and into the right greenside bunker, with a back right pin. Typically, I’m 30 percent up and down from that bunker. But today, I holed it. 

"Holy s#!%" 

(4 under)

Hole 7, par 5

After perhaps the longest drive I've ever hit on the hole, my attempt to get home in two resulted in a 2-iron pull to the left of the green on the side hill of the bunker. Scrambled for par. 

"Phew."

(Stayed at 4 under)

Hole 8, par 4

Drive, pitch, putt. 

"These guys may never invite me to play again." 

(5 under)

Hole 9, par 4

After a 9-iron led to a 15-foot putt below a back pin, I knew I needed perfect pace to curl one in. The pace was great, but pushed slightly. The ball skimmed the right edge of the hole and lipped inward and sat atop the back of the hole, teetering. Then, like something from the movie "Angel's In The Outfield,” the powers that be willed it into the cup after a harrowing four seconds. 

“OMG.”

 (6 under)

The turn

The group stopped in for beverages and a cup of chicken salad (the sustenance from my peanut butter gluten-free toast was beginning to dwindle) and we shared some banter with the folks in the card room before making our way to the tenth tee. 

I was dreadfully aware I just posted a 30 on the front nine. I battled feeling guilt about a blowout match and thoughts of contentment for my score. I let it creep in that if I could shoot just an even par on the back, I’d break my low on the course by three. That would still be good enough, right?

In our walk up to the tee, my partner pulled me aside and said, “Do me a favor. Keep your foot on the gas, will ya?” 

That’s all I needed to hear. 

Hole 10, par 3

Even though I misjudged the breeze and came up short of the green, I chipped it in for birdie. 

“Let’s go.”

(7 under) 

Hole 11, par 5

I missed my first fairway of the day, forcing a lay up and a two-putt par. 

"I really need to work on par five scoring." 

(Held at 7 under)

Hole 12, par 3

Nice and easy swing to 10 feet. Dropped for another birdie. 

"This $15 is in the bag." 

(8 under)

Hole 13, par 4

This hole is my favorite on the course. It’s a blind tee shot that penalizes you for taking the safe route and rewards you with a better angle to the green for taking a more aggressive line (true to a Donald Ross layout and always reminds me of Old Tom Morris’ number one at Prestwick). 

Despite the reward for a well-placed drive, I chose the wrong approach club and I missed to the back right corner of the green. That dreadful error meant a 35-footer down a dangerous slope. 

Three-putt bogey. 

(My partner, however, made a bomb from off the green to win the hole.)
 
"Way to pick me up, partner!" 

(Dropped to 7 under)

Hole 14, par 4

I picked myself up the next hole on the short par four. After driving it to the front greenside bunker, I was up and down for birdie. 

“You got this."

(Back to 8 under) 

Hole 15, par 4

By now, the group started getting real quiet. My guess is everyone was terrified of mentioning my score, or god-forbid, a course record. 

Luckily, I weathered the quiet-storm. 

Par. 

“Please, someone say something so I don't lose it..." 

(Stayed at 8 under)

Hole 16, par 4

Drive, approach to two feet. Tap in birdie.

"Beep. I’m sorry. Nobody is home right now. Matt may or may not be conscious. Sincerely, Matt’s autopilot."

(9 under)

Hole 17, par 3

I had to snap back into reality, because this difficult 220-yard par three was a behemoth, and on this day, the pin was back left. I knew fellow-Ohioan and (and former course record holder) Jack Nicklaus once four-putted this severely left-to-right, back-to-front sloping green in a Western Open. 

Tragically, I do the unspeakable. My tee shot found the back-left bunker. From here, the play is to hit the shot safely to 20 or 30 feet and make sure it’s on the green for a chance at a two-putt. 

But that day, I wasn’t going to back down. I said to my caddy, "Screw it. Let’s hit this tight." 

I clipped the ball with as much spin as I could muster, landed it on the fringe by a few inches, watched it check and release to five feet. Drained the putt for par.
 
"This is special. Really special. Don't muck it up." 

(Held at 9 under)

Hole 18, par 5

Beverly Country Club was founded in 1908. One of the many reasons I joined was its incredible history and Chicago lifeblood. The world's best amateurs and professionals have played here throughout the ages -- Jones, Evans, Quimet, Palmer, Nicklaus, Mickelson. It's a club in the heart of Chicago that beats with a Chicago heart. The membership is unlike anywhere I've ever been, anything but boring. Ever since the first time I visited, the land and membership here at Beverly just felt special to me. 

Although briefly, I thought of the millions of rounds and thousands of golfers that have played here, none of whom have ever carded a 62 or better. If I par this hole, I'll have a little part of Beverly’s history.

So, here I am on the 18th tee at 9 under par, overlooking one-hundred-and-ten years of storied and compelling golf history. 

Three exceptionally deep breaths, then the last tee shot. 

Boom. 

The adrenaline added about 15 yards to the tee ball and my drive went through the fairway on my typical line. Surprisingly, the lie in the rough was good enough for a 3-wood or even driving iron to make an attempt at the green in two, but I liked my layup odds with a wedge the way I was striking them. More adrenaline added an extra 15 yards to the layup, and left me 70 yards. 

A confident strike gave me a 10-footer, a nervous stroke resulted in a two-putt finishing par. 

"We did it." 

9 under, 62. A course record. 

Sure, a great score, but a greater story

As I look back on the day, I am thankful I played my best. But, as odd as it may seem, I was just as thankful for my playing partners. 

I started the day not thinking about a score, but excited to play with people I didn’t know and a fellow member who is more knowledgeable about golf than most full-time historians. 

As a proud member of Beverly Country Club and founder of NewClub, I’ve had the opportunity to connect with people I’d have never otherwise met. To me, that’s the most special. Sure, I shot a 62, but it’s just one of many great stories we can all tell and retell for a lifetime.