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Caddying for a pro was a gamechanger for the ProJo’s Eric Rueb. Here’s what happened

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Caddying for a pro was a gamechanger for the ProJo’s Eric Rueb. Here’s what happened

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NORTON, Mass. – I thought I was ready to caddie in the FM Championship at TPC Boston last week. After caddying at the course for 11 years, with close to 1,000 loops under my belt, I felt confident about my course knowledge and ability to read every green on property.

That all changed the second LPGA professional Lindsey Weaver-Wright, staring down a 15-foot slider for birdie on the first hole of the tournament, looked over at me at me and said “where do you like it?”

From a birdie on the first hole of the practice round to a two-putt par on the last hole on Sunday, my week on the bag of an LPGA pro opened my eyes to what it’s like to a be a professional athlete. I learned about preparation, pressure and saw what it’s like for someone to try and perform at the highest level while managing life behind the scenes that doesn’t show up on your TV screen.

Simply put, it was the best experience I’ve ever had in sports.

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Once a caddie, always a caddie

The recipe for most sportswriters writing about being a caddy in a professional tournament is usually this: build relationship with player, ask to caddie in a tournament that doesn’t have a ton of weight, work event, write about it.

That’s not what this was. This was a business trip.

I’m a caddie. I started at Metacomet Country Club when I was 16 years old, carrying for Brad Faxon Sr. in my very first loop. I worked there, on and off, for close to 15 years, and caddied in casual rounds, club tournaments and around Rhode Island in RIGA events.

In 2013, as an unemployed sportswriter looking for work steadier than freelancing, I started looping at TPC Boston. The opportunity to caddie at a PGA Tour course was inviting and it didn’t take me long to figure out I really enjoyed the work.

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The secret to succeeding at TPC Boston wasn’t my golf knowledge. I’m great with numbers – I always tell players caddying is like playing a video game – and can read greens, but if you ask me to break down a swing there’s only so much this 11.5 handicap can help you with.

What’s worked for me is understanding how people work. Doing 70-90 loops a season – until I dialed things back post-COVID to spend more summer time with my family – I encountered all sorts of players. You have maybe 30 minutes to figure out their personality, their game and how you can better serve them. You’re a caddie, but you’re more of a host trying to provide players a memory that will last. Do that right and you can be rewarded handsomely.

As the years went by and my reputation at the club grew, it offered opportunities.

In 2018, Rafa Cabrera-Bello – a Spainard who was Top 20 in the world at the time – needed a caddie for his Pro-Am Round before the Dell Technologies Championship. The head pro called my boss, who asked if I could do it. I said yes, then called the member I was supposed to caddie for and politely explained I had to fire him (he understood and, in a wild coincidence, ended up in Cabrera-Bello’s group).

In 2020, the PGA Tour required tournaments to have local caddies “in the bubble” in case tour caddies tested positive for COVID during the week. I didn’t get to work that week, but did get to wear a cool bracelet for five days just in case a call came in.

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How it happened

With the LPGA coming to TPC Boston this year, I knew there’d likely be a few loops for local caddies. While every PGA Tour pro travels with a full-time caddie, it’s a different story on the LPGA Tour.

In early August, TPC head professional Don Baldassare referred me to a couple of players looking for a caddie. Those arrangements didn’t work out, and with other caddies grabbing loops, I was suddenly out of options.

Then, on the Sunday before the tournament, one fell into my lap. A fellow caddie had a bag for the week, but couldn’t make one of the days. He asked if I wanted it and I couldn’t say yes fast enough. While money was important, there was some value in the experience and I didn’t want to miss out.

My caddie master sent me her contacts and I sent a quick email. I got a response that night and she let me know she was flying in Monday and was going to play a nine-hole practice round Tuesday around 10:30.

It was official. I was a pro caddie.

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My player

If you asked me who Lindsey Weaver-Wright was before that night, I would have assumed you were talking up some up-and-coming high school athlete I needed to know heading into the fall season.

A quick Wikipedia search told me exactly who she was. An impressive junior and amateur golfer who had an unbelievable college career and quickly made the jump to full-time status on the LPGA Tour.

Over the last three seasons, she was inside the Top 100 on the money list. Her 2023 season was her best, cut short only by maternity leave. She and her husband had their first child in December and by April, she was back out on Tour. Looking at results, her game came back together in June, where she made three straight cuts.

More impressive than her play is the fact she’s traveling on Tour solo with her son. Her husband works full-time in Texas while Lindsey plays full-time golf as a full-time mom. The LPGA offers daycare at tournament sites, but not on Mondays – which is why Lindsey was doing her first practice round Tuesday.

She told me she’d be at the course an hour before her practice round and I wasn’t going to be late. I arrived on property around 9 and it gave me plenty of time to register and get a feel for the setup. At registration, they asked me if I wanted to purchase a yardage book. I told them I was a full-time caddie at TPC and wouldn’t need one.

As I sat in the lounge chairs in the clubhouse, waiting for Lindsey to arrive, I read the caddie rules and saw one that raised an eyebrow. Old yardage books and greens books were illegal. I went to the LPGA rules officials, asked if my books were, in fact, illegal, they told me there were and thanked me for asking on Tuesday and not 15 minutes before we teed off Thursday (apparently that happens). I went downstairs and spent the $45 on a yardage book.

Shortly after I got the text from Lindsey saying she was outside. I walked out, introduced myself, and got the adventure started.

Practice makes perfect

Practice rounds are not something I’m familiar with. Member-guest tournaments have them, but actual practice rarely takes place.

Pros practice with purpose. We started on 10 and on the green, Lindsey had to ask me to grab four putting discs out of her bag and place them where we thought tournament pins might be. She practiced putts to each location, judging speeds, then practiced chips from around the green and the rough in spots where she thought she might miss. While you or I think every bunker is in play, Lindsey only practiced on a select few knowing she’d never miss a shot so bad it would end up in one.

After our second practice round, I asked Lindsey what she needed from me as far as tournament rounds go. She said she was looking for help with wind, some sight lines and what I see on the greens. After not doing any of that for two days, I figured it would be easy to handle.

I was very, very wrong.

Gametime

My alarm was set for 5:07 a.m. on Thursday, allowing me an hour to get ready and another hour (it’s 52 minutes from Foster to Norton) to get to the course. Lindsey said she’d be there around 7:30 for the round. I wanted to be there first.

She arrived, baby in tow, and after dropping him off at daycare and having a quick breakfast, we set off to get warmed up. Lindsey started on the main practice green and I stayed off to the side and made sure we only had 14 clubs for the day. After 20 minutes or so, we walked over to the practice facility to hit balls. Lindsey found space to hit and I went to retrieve balls – all ProV1xs with TOUR stamped on the side.

Her warmup had intent. She started by getting loose with a 58-degree wedge and made her way through the bag, going back and forth between short and mid irons before mixing in hybrids, woods, driver and finishing with some more wedges.

From there, she went to the short game area for some chips, then sand shots and shots out of the rough. She closed on the small practice green.

This was a meticulous routine, one she repeated for four days. As she warmed up, I cleaned the clubs she used and carefully marked pin locations in my yardage book and notes about the course I wanted to remember. I’d give my weather app one last check for wind direction before tossing my phone back in my car, then grab fresh water for Lindsey and I to start the round.

When she finished on the small green, we walked over to a cart that shuttled us to our starting hole – No. 10.

“Where do you like it?”

Lindsey birdied No. 10 in our practice round, so I felt great about starting there. When her named was announced, my heart was beating a mile a minute as I worried about my player finding a fairway you could land an airplane on. Lindsey didn’t look affected in the least, striping a pretty draw down the right side before finishing in the middle of the fairway. Since she was the shortest hitter of threesome, I hustled to get to our ball first.

The LPGA Tour allows players to use lasers for yardages, Lindsey didn’t really need help with yardages, except on the occasion where her laser wasn’t registering the flag. She’d confirm wind direction – it can swirl in spots at TPC – and I’d answer as quick and succinct as possible.

On her first approach of the tourney, she rifled a shot some 12-15 feet past the pin, leaving a downhill putt with a little slide in it. I’ve seen it before, gave it a quick look when we walked up but after two days of not reading greens, wasn’t expecting what happened next.

Crouched down reading the green, Lindsey glanced over her right shoulder, looked me in the eye and said “where do you like it?”

My stomach dropped. I know the putt, but suddenly I felt like I’d never read a green at TPC before. I walked over, took a big breath, crouched down, gave my read, then walked back to my spot and tried to dodge cardiac arrest on the green. Lindsey stood over her putt, ready to make birdie.

The most nervous moment of my life took place on July 27, 2011, in the moments I was sitting outside the OR waiting for nurses to bring me in so I could witness the birth of my first child. I remember knowing that in a matter of minutes, my life was about to change.

That moment is now a distant No. 2.

I’m shocked Lindsey didn’t step off the putt, because my heart was beating so fast and so loud there’s no way she didn’t hear it. As she rolled the putt, I was gritting my teeth down to the point of pain, praying that somehow the ball would drop and I didn’t blow the read.

It ended up center cut short, giving her a tap-in for par. Lindsey seemed disappointed at the missed opportunity. I was relieved the line was good.

Little did I know, this was just the start of my emotional rollercoaster of a week.

Mind games

For the rest of the first day, whenever Lindsey asked for something, I tried my best to have an answer. The fear of being wrong was overwhelming. My brain was in a blender.

From what I could see, Lindsey’s wasn’t.

You hear stories about a professional athlete’s focus. You see it on TV. Rarely do you have a chance to live it like I did.

When I caddie, I’m the life of the party. I’m a cheerleader, trying to make every double-digit handicap feel like a scratch golfer. Communication is constant, so I know what they’re feeling and they know what I’m seeing. I’m quick to offer praise after a good shot and encouragement when something bad happens.

It didn’t take me long to realize this wasn’t what Lindsey needed. She was a linebacker in a golf skirt, determined only on the task at hand. Her focus never swayed. She showed visible frustration after bad shots – her statements are protected by player-caddie privilege – and zero emotion after pulling off some of the greatest shots I’ve ever seen on that course.

Good or bad, what happened next was the only thing she cared about. No time for a cherubic caddie to deliver a rah-rah speech.

Thursday came down to putts. She left two birdies center-cup short, edged three and had one go 360 degrees before falling out. Lindsey shot 1-over, making 17 pars in the round.

Friday’s fight

The cutline was going to be 2-over, maybe 3, and sitting at 2-over with a birdie look on No. 7, she called me in for a read. I felt good about the line – there was some inside knowledge about the pin position – and I gave my read. She buried the putt, then followed it with a par on No. 8.

With a pin tucked back left on No. 9, Lindsey missed left. She made a terrific pitch, giving herself four feet. She called on me to confirm the read. I’ve seen the putt a million times. It always breaks right. It has to. I wanted it outside edge. She went there. It never moved.

I felt like I was going to get sick.

Lindsey got the shot back with a bomb of a birdie putt on No. 11 with zero help from me. On 12, she put herself in position to make a birdie but before rolling the putt, gave me a look and then asked what I saw. I gave the line, the ball snuck in the cup and we were back at even. Relief.

For the rest of the round, we found a groove. We started speaking the same language and found a birdie to finish out the round to safely make the cut.

I’ve had some decent personal achievements in sports, but nothing close to this. Yes, I realize I didn’t hit a shot. I don’t really care. This mattered.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. My adrenaline was through the roof after the final six holes. Finally, around 11:30, I tried to sleep, thinking about what we could do the next day.

Weekend warrior

‘Moving Day’ started with three pars, but on No. 4 Lindsey stuck a pitch shot close. She had a read, asked what I thought, I confirmed her thoughts, and she made the birdie – her first on the hole after missing two golden opportunities the previous two days.

She was -1 on the front, made a birdie on No. 10 and came up with another on No. 12.

What happened next came out of nowhere.

Two missed greens hurt. Not being able to convert those into pars hurt more. Lindsey stopped the bleeding with pars on Nos. 16 and 17.

When we got to the 18 tee, Lindsey was locked in. Not me. I couldn’t have been more rattled. My confidence was shook; I wasn’t thinking about how I could help, instead thinking about doing whatever possible not to hurt her score.

Lindsey hit the green in regulation on 18, giving her a birdie putt that looked familiar. It was practically the same putt my player had one week earlier in the club’s member-member tournament. Lindsey didn’t ask for a read, but she made a good one – but just hit the putt a hair too hard.

Faced with a five foot comebacker, Lindsey asked “outside edge?” Rattled, I replied “correct.” It was not. She hit the putt hard, it stayed on the edge and she settled for bogey.

Lindsey was angry. I was too. I wasn’t mad about the bad read – those happen – but I was upset about letting her down in a big spot. One moment where I have to absolutely be as locked in as she was and, looking at it now, I wasn’t. I was worried about being wrong instead of trying to be right.

On the quiet walk back to the clubhouse, I was convinced I was getting fired. I put the bag down, Lindsey looked at me and said she wasn’t sure what time she was going Sunday, but it would be close to the same as Saturday and she’d see me in the morning.

This story would be cooler if I told you we both came out on all cylinders, with Lindsey hitting shots and me making all sorts of crazy reads that led to a low number and a spot in the top 10.

That didn’t happened. As far as mental exhaustion goes, I was cooked on Saturday night. You start questioning everything you did, whether or not you can handle the work and if you’re even qualified to.

Thankfully, I received a bounty of encouraging texts and messages from friends and regulars at the club. That kept my head above water.

Sunday felt weird. Lindsey remained locked in during her warmup and – with split tee times for the day – opened with a birdie on No. 10 before making bogeys on No. 12 and 13.

At this point I was convinced I was 100 percent responsible for the position Lindsey was in and frozen out from any sort of position. Still at 1 over heading to No. 16 – TPC’s peninsula green –  Lindsey hit a shot that finished 10 feet past the back left pin.

She glanced at the putt, looked back and asked me what I saw. I knew the putt from TPC’s three-day member-guest shootout, where I changed my player’s line as he stood over the ball. There’s a subtle right to left break at the start before it falls back hard right. I told her exactly what I saw. She rolled it and the ball snuck into the right side of the cup.

Outside of the birth of both of my kids and maybe my wedding day, I don’t know if I’ve ever been happier.

The rest of the day was a grind. Lindsey struggled to find her swing. She dumped one in the water on No. 2 but made a terrific birdie on No. 6. On the par-five seventh hole, her wedge from 80 yards out looked perfect until the ball trampolined off the green and rolled into the rough. She stepped up to the chip shot, lofted it out softly and ever so perfect, then we all watched it roll in the cup, drawing a loud cheer from one overserved spectator.

Lindsey flashed a quick smile. She finished with a par on No. 8, a two-putt par on No. 9 and just like that, the ride came to an end.

Postgame report

After the round, Lindsey was incredible. She walked out of the scorers’ area and signed autographs for every kid who shoved a Sharpie in her direction.

The walk back to the clubhouse was quiet but hardly contentious. She had a 6 p.m. flight to catch and as we walked back to her car, she thanked me for my work and said I did a terrific job.

I apologized for not being better.

She laughed. Lindsey said her play wasn’t on me. She said the setup of the course got to her a bit and when you miss opportunities, things turn into a grind. That’s when frustration can set in.

We said our goodbyes. She went inside to grab her son and I went to my car, driving to a family cookout in Foster. The food was terrific, but with everyone sitting around a fire, the kids making S’mores, I knew it was time for me to go home.

At 8:30, my eyes were too tired to watch TV. When they opened, it was 5:30 in the morning. I went back upstairs and slept for three more hours.

Everything that happened is going to change how I caddie in the future. Two days after caddying on the final day of an LPGA event, I was back at TPC, carrying one of my regular’s bags – it was significantly lighter – while helping the son of another member as he starts his journey in the game of golf. My heart rate never jumped above normal.

I’m not sure what I thought the experience was going to feel like. Maybe in the back of my head I thought it was going to be like any other round I’ve caddied in, except a little more serious.

It was far beyond that. The pressure was immense and, facing it for the first time, it absolutely swallowed me alive – but that’s something I can learn from.

Lindsey wasn’t affected by the pressure. How she wasn’t is beyond me. Her ability to play competitive golf at this level while balancing motherhood is incomprehensible. I’m thankful for the opportunity to work for her and while things didn’t go the way we hoped, it’s going to help me as a caddie – and journalist – going forward.

I know I’m not quitting my day job any time soon to try and make it as an LPGA caddie. The FM Championship is coming back to TPC Boston in 2025 and if someone needs a looper, I’ll be more than happy to jump on a bag and do my best to help my player succeed.

And this time, when my heart starts racing, I’ll be ready for it.

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