Becoming a Caddy

Becoming a Caddy

When I tell people I’m a professional caddy on the Ladies European Tour the reaction is predominantly that of bemusement and utter confusion.

It’s a strange reaction I think. When these people tell me they’re an accountant or a shop assistant I don’t screw up my face and stare in perplexity so what is it about being a caddy that stumps people so much?

Well I guess it’s not your run of the mill profession is it? When asked as a kid what it was that you wanted to be when you grew up I can guarantee being a professional caddy wasn't the first thing that sprung to mind.

Once folk have grasped the concept of what I do they then ask how on earth I got in to it. So I tell them it all happened rather by accident. I used to go to Wentworth in Surrey for the Pro-Ams and caddy for some no hoper whose boss had invited anyone who thought they could play golf to the annual shindig.

I’ve been lucky enough to be drawn with Ernie Els, Colin Montgomerie, Johan Edfors, Padraig Harrington to name but a few Pros. At the same time I have also enjoyed the company of the usual amateur suspects - Tarbuck, Forsythe, Wogan and more recently Tim Henman and Jamie Redknapp. I thoroughly enjoyed my time treading the links with these stars and it’s a lovely way to spend a day inside the ropes the day before a big tournament.

I just happened to finish the day around the west course at Wentworth and went to collect some money from the caddie master when I was asked to return on the Monday when the Ladies European Tour were due to play in a 36hole corporate day.

Seemed like a no-brainer to me.

I rocked up at the crack of dawn Monday morning to witness a vision of golfing bliss at every turn. Lining the driving range from one end to the other were bronzed beauties striking golf balls with power and precision. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

Knowing I had some time to kill I casually wandered down the behind the range to check out the talent. Eyeing a couple of players from afar I sidled up behind them to admire their form – honestly – and true enough their swings were fantastic.

So I’m assigned to a delightful Swedish girl for the day – the very same blond girl I had been admiring not half an hour previous in fact. Off we go and before long I ask her about her career on the Ladies European Tour and eventually the question of where her own personal caddy might be arises. She goes on to tell me that only the top few girls will actually earn enough to afford a caddy. I was staggered. I couldn’t believe that a golfer of this talent couldn’t afford a caddy.

Bemused I carried her bag around two of the three courses at Wentworth and walking up the last I couldn’t help but ask one more time if she’d like me to caddy for her on the LET. Sadly she wasn’t one of the select few at the time so I left it.

Whilst standing in the caddy office I was approached by my player once more and introduced to her friend. Her friend was equally as beautiful and after a very brief chat she asked if I would like to accompany her on Thursday to the Ladies Open of Portugal. Didn’t need to give that one a lot of thought…

So with flights and accommodation booked I headed out on the Wednesday afternoon to Faro to start my new career.

I booked a relatively cheap last minute flight to Faro and managed to get a bus to the golf course to meet my new boss. At 11am that Wednesday morning I hauled her weighty tour bag on to my shoulder and all of a sudden I felt like a professional caddy. We walked down to the range and then the vision hit me again – several dozen beautiful ladies striking golf balls in to the distance. The sun was coming up over the fir trees behind and with my sunglasses donned I watched, nay gaped in awe at the situation I found myself in. In true Hollywood fashion I nearly asked the guy next to me to pinch me in case I was dreaming!

She asked me to buy a yardage booklet and I immediately went to the pro shop and bought a standard issue Strokesaver from the Pro there. I returned to her with a sense of achievement bellowing from every pore only to be told that I’d bought the wrong book and that a guy would be lurking around the clubhouse selling a customised book designed purely for the event that week.

Feeling rather foolish I spent my time on the range looking at my new bible without it making a whole lot of sense. Unlike the books that you buy when visiting a new golf club these were just random drawings with colourful dots scattered around the page with accompanying numbers in no particular order. I was baffled.

I was a complete novice and stood out like a sore thumb. I had no idea what I was doing and it showed. Having worked at Wentworth and Sunningdale on a sporadically casual basis I thought I knew all there was to know about golf but out here on tour where every shot matters my inexperience was there for all to see.

When it came to the tournament itself I also had a lot to learn. I was used to playing what my friends and I have always described as either casual/pub golf or ready golf. If you’re ready – play that sort of thing. This was different. This mattered – this mattered a lot.

Stepping on the first tee I was no closer to understanding what was going on and decided to wing it – usual style. It soon dawned on me what the dots and/or numbers meant when we landed next to one on the first fairway and she said, “Ok, we have 180metres to the front and the pin is 15 on…”

Looking up at me with her beautiful blue eyes she said, “What do you think, Chris?”

Gulp

My thought was to just to whack a 5-wood down there and see what happened but I had a feeling she was after a slightly more solid and reliable plan. I realised just in the nick of time that the red dot I was standing next to coincided, helpfully, to the 180 number printed in my book. I managed to avoid complete humiliation but still had no viable solution to the quandary afore me. She suggested perhaps that she play a 5-iron down the middle thus laying up short of the large bunker wrapping itself around the front of the green ahead. To which I recall saying something along the lines of, “Yeah, whatever.”

With numerous other calamities littering the week’s efforts with frequent yardage mistakes from me ever present we did, miraculously have quite a good result. Considering I didn’t have a clue what I was up to we finished 11^th overall with an 11under par total. She even shot 6 birdies and a closing eagle to complete the week. I made a few quid too and thought I had found the perfect job.

I had a great time off the course too making myself at home in my little studio flat a few miles from the course reading books and enjoying the sun on the balcony. The adjoining pool was a delight and the local beer "UP!" hardly broke the bank at 30p a bottle.

“Work” surely couldn’t get any better than this? .

My boss played her cards fairly close to her chest and didn’t let on at all whether our week together was a one-off or if she cared for my services on a more permanent basis. When she dropped me off at the complex again on the Sunday afternoon after the completion of the event she just dashed off saying she’d call or text me later as they were in a bit of a hurry to catch their plane.

With about 5 hours to kill before I even had to consider heading for the airport I dug into my bag and found about €4.20 that, thanks mainly to the 30p a bottle local brew got me remarkably drunk whilst I sat around the pool soaking up the Portuguese summer sun.

Having not heard from her at all I found myself a little morose at the prospect of having come all this way, got myself all excited about a possible career as her faithful caddy and then not so much as a thank you.

As the ‘UP!’ beer flowed through my veins I gradually began to feel unsurprisingly ‘DOWN’ thinking it had all had been a complete waste of time. Had I really flown all the way to Faro at the cost of £200, spent a further £200 accommodating myself and another £100 feeding and lubricating myself only to be completely used?

As the ‘DOWN’ element of the ‘UP!’ beer took hold I started to feel manically depressed. Being new to the whole caddying lark I wondered whether this was normal practice. Meet someone for five minutes at a golf club, trust his word that he’s a good caddy, ask him on tour, play three good rounds and bugger off leaving him £500 the wrong way up? At this point I was wallowing in my own self pity and just when I was considering taking a swim that would not require a towel, my mobile buzzed and a message read, “Chris, we had a great week together and hope to enjoy many more with you as my full-time caddy. Speak in the week, regards J x”

Sweet!

At that moment a song came on my iPod that has forever symbolised good news and happiness to me. A song that whatever mood you’re in will lift your spirits high and propel you in to Go! Go! Go! mood. Elbow’s ‘One Day Like This’. I must have listened to that tune fifty times that afternoon in the Algarve sun.

I had been given the go head to begin a new career as a caddy on the Ladies European Tour and I was like a dog with a new bone!

I got paid within a few days and got onto the next adventure on the Ladies European Tour…