Original Article published in Golfweek June 4th 2005

 

By James Achenbach

 

It took one hour to play the first hole.

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In spite of this – or, more accurately, because of this – it easily was the most interesting amateur tournament I’ve attended in years.

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The 101-year-old San Gabriel Country Club is located about 20 miles northeast of downtown Los Angeles. Late on Thursday afternoon, May 12, the first tee was swarming with golf fans. There were hundreds of people, from 88-year-old Harry Vournas to 5-year-old Alexis Rushlon, all united in golf.

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A few minutes later, 32 golfers would begin a playoff for the last of the coveted spots in the championship flight – 32 golfers in the same playoff, on the same hole, at the same time.

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Welcome to the Cravens, a weird, wild, wacky, wonderful golf tournament that has been played every year since Los Angeles businessman John S. Cravens started it in 1925.

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Steve Nicklaus, second-eldest son of Jack the Major Slayer, again came from Florida to play. He was accompanied by partner Van Lefferdink, because the Cravens is an alternate-shot competition among two-man teams. After an 18-hole qualifying round, the teams begin match play in flights.

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One partner hits tee shots on odd holes, the other on even holes. Everything is alternate shot, just like the foursomes competition in the Ryder Cup.

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A surprising number of golfers from around the country make the annual pilgrimage to this West Coast golf mecca. For them, the Cravens has become a must-play event. Ron Lane, playing out of Pine Valley (N.J.) Golf Club, has been in the field 46 times, winning twice.

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The Cravens is a throwback, a tribute to golf’s past. I imagine the original Crosby Clambake being like this. The tournament is all about camaraderie, friendship and hospitality.

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Golfers and fans gather each afternoon on a knoll just behind the 14th green, a 182-yard par 3 over water.

There they eat and drink, scream and applaud, boo and taunt, and basically cause enough commotion to test the nerves of the steadiest golfer.

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Adhering to tradition, all teams play together in the championship flight playoff. This year’s playoff included 16 two-man teams and their caddies, along with a gangsome of tournament officials and more than 300 spectators.

I’ve seen U.S. Amateur finals with fewer spectators. I’ve seen other national championships with crowds far less excited.

 

The Cravens is exactly what golf was designed to be – a sport that brings people together and even reinforces the spirit of a community.

 

It could have been 1928. The gallery included men in suits and ties, women in fancy spring dresses, children who wished with all their energy to be playing in the high-banked bunkers protecting the first green, golfers who missed the playoff and wished with the same childlike fervor to be out there in the middle of the melee.

The playoff was packed with skilled players. Nonetheless, balls were flying in all directions. Sixteen balls were in play. There were balls in the fairway, balls in the rough, balls in the sand and, ultimately, balls in the road behind the green.

 

There were no gallery ropes, as spectators walked with players and became an integral part of this little drama.

Through it all, Scottish professional Alistair Philip, head pro at San Gabriel for seven years, used a bullhorn to announce the player before every shot. There was a charming pageantry to the event. And there was big-time pressure.

 

Brad Scott, who plays at San Gabriel, stood in the middle of the throng, with spectators no more than 3 feet away. Surrounded, if not cornered, by the crowd, Scott cold-skulled a lob wedge shot into the lip of a bunker.

Later, following a nifty bunker shot by partner Doug Pysher, Scott redeemed himself by making a 7-foot putt that earned a spot in the championship flight.

 

Making it through the 18-hole qualifying round and into the championship flight of 32 teams is almost as big a deal as winning the tournament. Of the 16 teams that shot 71 and ended up in this year’s playoff, 13 made it to the championship flight.

 

For the record, Nicklaus and Lefferdink shot 77 and missed the playoff by six strokes.

 

Although the opening par 4 at San Gabriel is only 280 yards, it features a shallow, tricky putting surface and four ball-eating bunkers, not to mention that diabolical out-of-bounds road behind the green. If golf balls had a voice on this hole, they might wish for a vacation without beaches and a road that remains less traveled.

 

Alas, the playoff tension produced five double-bogey 6s on the first hole. The playoff continued to a second hole, and the spectators marched on.

 

Too often in golf, we end up sequestered inside our own heads. We try to program our preshot routines, our swings, our minds, our emotions, our mannerisms. We are so many islands onto ourselves.

The Cravens is the opposite of this. The players, the tournament officials, the spectators – they are outgoing and united in a love for golf.

 

Bob Gross, 62, grew up across the street from San Gabriel Country Club. Sneaking onto the course to whack balls, he became attached to the game. He compiled a fine amateur career and qualified in 1998 for the U.S. Senior Open. Today he is part of the Cravens tournament committee.

 

It’s called giving back to the game.

 

Jim Daniel is the tournament chairman and watched proudly as his three grandchildren soaked up the atmosphere of the Cravens.

 

It’s called passing on the spirit of the game.

 

Golfers are a special breed. I came home from the Cravens and thought about life in 2005.

 

Somewhere in a part of the world I will never know or visit, American soldiers are conducting a war. Here at home, the national deficit is going up faster than David Duval’s stroke average. Major companies are defaulting on employee pensions. Many of my friends are deeply worried about finances and health insurance.

 

As all of us continue our dangerous journey in the world, an oasis such as the Cravens is a welcome stop.

The message for golfers is clear: Stop, drink the water, give thanks, sink a few birdie putts, make plans to come back this way again next year.

 

We are lucky, in this crazy life, to have golf. Even if it takes one hour to play the first hole.

 

“The Cravens is a throwback, a tribute to golf’s past. I imagine the original Crosby Clambake being like this. The tournament is all about camaraderie, friendship and hospitality.”