John Malizia
USGTF Teaching Professional, Yarmouth, MA

FROM NIBLICK TO NINE IRON

Just before the middle of the 20th century, I was introduced to this wonderful game of ours as a caddie. It all started at age eight at Innis Arden Country Club in Old Greenwich, CT.

My Uncle Tony (Po) Carella would pick me up at my home, where I lived with my parents and two younger brothers. I would not be able to sleep well the night before. I would drive my mother nuts the next morning: "Mom, where is Uncle Po? Is he coming? Did he forget?" Uncle Po never forgot and never missed picking me up in his old car, along with his son, my cousin Bob.

We would be at the course bright and early every Saturday and Sunday in all seasons, no matter what the weather, in hopes of making a "loop." In winter, we waited in the car. When weather allowed, we waited in the caddie yard.

I often hung out with my cousin Lou, who was driven by his father. Lou and I were the youngest of the caddies. Therefore, we got the bags that no one else would take.

We would always get Archie Graham and Phillbrook. I never knew Mr. Phillbrook's first name. They were always announced by the caddie master, "Hey, you two hurry up over here. Take Archie Graham and Phillbrook."

These gentlemen golfers were 90 years old and couldn't see well at all. If you remember the very elderly husband and wife golfing couple in "Caddieshack," you will have a mental picture of the golfing andvisual capabilities of Mr. Graham and Phillbrook. Our old-timers could only make nine holes (no golf cars back then). My pay? 75 cents.

After the novelty of being a caddie wore off, I would live for Mondays. Monday was Caddie's Day. We were able to play golf and we took full advantage. My cousin Lou and I would be driven to the course with our clubs. We would arrive early in the morning and play 45 to 50 holes, then walk home to Lou's house, three miles away, carrying our golf bags.

My clubs were a mixed conglomeration of hickory-shafted irons that my Uncle Po got from somewhere and gave to me. He even gave me a pair of gray knickers that I wore a few times.

The blades on the niblick, mashie, and mid-mashie were as sharp as razors. My bad swings would cut through the balata-covered balls until they started leaking rubber bands. The brassie, spoon, and cleek were more forgiving to the ball, which was temporarily spared its guillotine fate, until the irons shots that were still to come.

Time marched on, and I got better by trial and error (never having had a golf lesson until age 40.) I played my share of junior tournaments, those tournaments close to home. We were a blue collar family of modest means, so there was no money for golf.

During high school and college, I worked at the municipal course in Stamford, CT, Hubbard Heights. I was a starter, ranger, and also worked in course maintenance. I played in the club tournaments, and also on the Stamford High and University of Connecticut teams.

The game has been both a personal love affair and a family affair. I was also fortunate to meet many wonderful people and some famous people. I am sure the names are familiar to you:

I caddied for Butch Harmon when he was age 18 or so at Wee Burn in Darien, CT. Butch sure had a hot, fiery temper in those days. On some shots that he wasn't happy with, he would grind his cleats into the face of the club. I knew enough to keep quiet and keep my distance. He seems socalm now when I see his interviews on The Golf Channel mellowed with age!

I caddied for Laura Baugh when she was age 16 at the Women's Amateur at Wee Burn. What a beautiful young lady! And, a very, very good ball striker. Every contact was dead solid perfect.

Now, to really date myself, I caddied for Senator Prescott Bush, our President's grandfather. He was an occasional guest at Wee Burn.

I had the honor and privilege to play a round with baseball legend Jackie Robinson at Hubbard Heights. I was just a kid, but I still remember him being a likeable, gentle man.

I was a marshal in the 1987 PGA Championship held at PGA National in Palm Beach Gardens, FL. I had the pleasure of walking and talking with Dave Marr. We were discussing the unusually strong grip of Jim Hallet of Cape Cod, who we were following. We both agreed it couldn't be a bad thing - look what it was doing for Paul Azinger. Dave was a very easy, open person to converse with.

After my youngest daughter, Robyn, went off to college, I decided I would go to the USGTF to pursue my love of teaching golf. I had always been assisting fellow golfers with this or that problem, so why not? I went to the Florida certification course in October of 1993. I didn't pass the PAT but tried again in 2001, and am now Certified.

I teach at Bayberry Hills inn Yarmouth (Cape Cod), MA. I also teach at a golf youth camp in July, Offense-Defense Golf Camp. I met several USGTF and WGTF pros at the camp. It was good fun all around.

Thank you, USGTF staff, for all your help in opening up the door to my golf teaching career. I am age 60 and nearing the end of my lifelong career in insurance claims administration.

Looking forward to teaching golf full time is like, "Life begins at 60." I can think back to my early childhood days in the caddie yard. Sure, I had dreams like some of the others to be like Ben Hogan, Sam Snead, or Arnold Palmer. But, reality was that even being a club pro was a quantum leap for a poor kid from the other side of the tracks. I am proud to know I am a professional golf teacher certified by the USGTF.

Hope to see some of you on the short grass soon.