By Darragh Culhane

Copyright irishmirror

When Rory McIlroy, Shane Lowry, and the rest of the world’s best golfers take the turn off Quaker Meeting House Road and into Bethpage State Park for the Ryder Cup this week, they might spot an unassuming one-storey building tucked away in the trees and think nothing of it. Probably a maintenance hut. What they won’t know is that the little building is the Bethpage caddyshack. I spent a couple of summers witnessing it in all of its glory. Long Island is a weird place. It’s 23 times smaller than Ireland and has a larger population, and you truly meet all sorts: the Wall Street execs, the Hampton homeowners, people down on their luck, and everyone in between. Nowhere was this diversity better displayed than at the Bethpage caddyshack. On my very first day, I was paired up with a caddy who left his home 1,200 miles away to come make a living in the summer. In our first loop, he had some strong views and was not shy about it. Apparently, this know-it-all gave Luke Donald and Jack Nicklaus swing advice while caddying down in Florida. But for every know-it-all, there is someone who lights up the place. For us, that guy was nicknamed the Professor. In a country full of bullshitters, this guy certainly wasn’t one. He once managed to blag his way into the VIP section at a Drake concert, partying with the New York Yankees, and had photographic proof. He would also volunteer to do the bagel run most mornings and was the life of the party when it came to smoking and gambling. There were two guys from ‘the hood’ – their words, not mine. Both had a weirdly wholesome fascination with Maury, the controversial American daytime TV show, which had a hypnotic effect on both men. One day, Maury Povich himself turned up at Bethpage, and both men – rarely short of confidence – shrank into themselves. Too shy to say hello. Funnily enough, Povich’s famous lines, ‘You ARE the Father’ and ‘You are NOT the father’ are engraved onto his Titleist Vokey wedges. A gift from a friend, he said. So what actually happened inside the Caddyshack? The morning would start with Pill Pull. Every caddy drew a numbered pill to determine the order of the day. It was a fair process, but it was not uncommon for a caddy on a bad streak to accuse others of fixing the draw. After Pill Pull came the morning smoking session for some residents. The bench outside the shack was the setting as the usual crew lit up their morning smokes. I was rarely a participant as I was too busy sleeping on my blow-up mattress inside the shack to ever get involved. Then came tonk, a high-stakes, fast-moving card game. Our know-it-all caddy crowned himself as the best tonk player, yet lost the most money day after day. The rest of the time was filled with table tennis battles and watching ESPN’s Sportscentre. The pay was decent. In 2018 and 2019, your Joe Soap would pay an $80 caddy fee at the pro shop, and be told to tip an extra $40 to $60 at the end of the round. Most of us carried two bags, so we’d walk away with anywhere between $230 and $270 a round. Although the Bethpage Black warning sign is a gimmick, there is also plenty of truth to it. The course will likely play quite favourably for the pros this week, but we told first-timers to add an extra 10 shots to their handicap. The golfers we caddied for were an eclectic mix, to say the least. Since Bethpage is a public course, big names were rare, but there were exceptions. A caddy from Cork once looped for a well-known Billionaire ($700 tip) and a former U.S. Secretary of State ($75 tip). My biggest claim to fame was carrying the bag for one of America’s richest lawyers. He owns multiple properties each with price tags in excess of $25m. He was both a gentleman and a generous tipper ($100 to both my and my fellow caddy). He made his employees tip well, too, and his playing partner, a certified NFL legend, also handed over a Benjamin Franklin. Most players were fine. Average golfers, decent company, and fair tippers. But every now and then, you would be stuck with overgrown children. The kind who needed their hand held and ego stroked for 18 holes. God Forbid they missed a putt; it was your fault for giving a bad read. One guy had so much money that he arranged a VIP matchplay event for his friends and family. A fellow Irish caddy, usually as patient as they’d come, finally lost it after 12 holes of club throwing, tantrums, and gaslighting. Turns out the man’s ‘friends’ weren’t too fond of him either. The annual Caddy NFL fantasy League was serious business. Thousands of dollars on the line, and the draft order was determined by whose player placed best in the prestigious New York State Open. One caddy told Rob Labritz, a three-time winner and PGA Champions Tour veteran, about this. Labritz vowed he’d get this caddy the number one pick. He lost in a play-off. After hours, some of us would sneak out for free on one of Bethpage’s five courses: Black, Blue, Yellow, Green, or Red. Our boys at the cart stand would sort us out with free buggies, and a crate of beer would be cracked open while the high-stakes money matches took place. A day’s work wouldn’t be complete without a trip to Long Island’s best bar, Croxleys. My day drinking habits earned me the VIP treatment in the boozer.. One barman had an Irish mother, and there were more than a few drinks ‘on the house’. Across the road was the Dark Horse , which stayed open until 4am or 5am. It was Brooks Koepka’s bar of choice when he won the 2019 PGA Championship. One of the senior caddies, Jack, got a last-minute call to carry the bag for Thai golfer Jazz Janewattananond that week. Jazz was second heading into the final round but finished outside the Top 10. With both the Wanamaker Trophy and Ryder Cup regularly floating around Bethpage grounds for photo ops and promo shoots, I once got my hands on the famous trophies. Maybe, just maybe, a couple of Irishmen will get their hands on the Ryder Cup at Bethpage this week, too.