No. 17: Golf Aging with Grace
Dear Pards,
Today I finished my round, perused through emails in the men's grill, then walked downstairs into the foyer of the clubhouse. There, I found our old head pro — a legend in his own time and place who had returned to snag a comp copy of Golf Digest and play with our course’s owner. His wily, zinc-covered visage has seen a thousand tee boxes across the globe. His setup emulates Julius Boros’s comfy heel start; his white chest hair waves and whips in the soft breeze. He’s a storyteller writing his own tales as he goes along.
My question: How does one become a golf sage? How does one retain knowledge of a million golf-related encounters only to recount them when it matters? How does one age ever so gracefully without becoming forlorn and scarred by this glorious game? I’d assume it helps to hit the center of the club face, but what are your thoughts?
-Graying in Greenville
Dear Graying,
You’ve painted quite the picture of a man most of us know, have seen, and in some instances, hope to become. Aging with grace is a feat that no one seems to have solved other than the influencers buttchugging creatine in a weighted vest on Instagram. Add in the scars that come from a life in golf, and there isn’t a single health-maxxing reel from a four-hour doomscroll that can come close to cracking the code.
The golfing olderster comes in many shapes and sizes. From my days working at country clubs, I can say that I aspire towards only one end of the aging spectrum. If I’m heading towards the other end, I hope the good Lord takes me before I ever have to see it. Not only is there an art to aging, but there is, in fact, an art to banking memories in the right folder and sharing only the ones that match a moment. Something not all of our elders seem to have.
If you ask 90-year-old Gary Player, he’ll tell you the answer is cutting out ice cream and bread and instead consuming blades of grass off the ground of the most artificially manicured golf course in the world. He also says to put your phone down and read. Which is actually something I can like and subscribe to.
I do, however, think there is an aspiring scholar-esque status that exists without needing to do side planks with kids or half-ass pushups with (just YouTube?) golfers on the White House lawn.
Don’t overthink it. If someone says they have all the answers, be wary. They sound like the same person who claims Jesus will come back down a slide in Independence, MO.
The best advice I can give is something that a 32-year-old tour pro who has lived what feels like 80 golfing years said when asked about wanting to win the last leg of the career grand slam.
“…the easiest way to do that is to not try to, in a weird way, you know? Just, you know, go out and get ready for the first hole, get a good game plan in, and attack it the way it needs to be attacked.”
-Jordan Spieth
And yes, it helps to hit the middle of the face.
P╞r╠℮P.S. All month, the Postage Stamp at the top of the newsletter will be The Cradle, the short course featured on our May postcard sent to our subscribers, by Dave Baysden. If you’d like a digital copy for your TV, you can grab it here.
I’m wife and kidless for the week and am taking a train from Raleigh to Pittsburgh to play a little golf with some friends. Yes, a train, the slow-moving locomotive that takes more time than a car and costs more than an airplane. I’m more excited for the journey than the destination. By the time you read this, I will most likely be deep into “Theo of Golden” in Nowhere, OH, sipping shitty Amtrak coffee in a coach car. Until it’s time to stream Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Finals to watch my beloved Hurricanes continue their cup chase.
Speaking of trains, or stopping them, I recently listened to an episode of John Mayer’s How’s Life podcast on SiriusXM. He said something about his creative process that resonated with me. So much so that I’ve tried to incorporate it into my process. The first filter he says he runs his work through before continuing is these four boxes:
Is it good?
Do I like it?
Is it me?
Is it repeatable (i.e., does he need a crazy pedal or something to play it live)
The fourth question doesn't apply as much during a weekly column like this, per se, but I rephrase it as "can this be re-readable in ten years" when I think about my monthly prints or anything printed for that matter.
Speaking of prints, I just put the final stamp on the latest monthly mailer, No. 3 | June 2026, and dropped them off at the post office this morning. For those of you who are new to the program, these mailers artifacts include the following:
A letter to a person, place, or thing (so I guess just a noun?) in golf. Oftentimes, it’s signed by “Pards,” which is me. Though we have some heavy hitters on deck for the coming months, who I think will make you chuckle, smirk, think, or cry for longer than I can.
A limited-edition piece of art, designed by Dave Baysden, that pairs with the letter on its back. Honestly, worth your money alone without my silly words.
A custom postcard. ALSO with sweet art from Dave. This month may or may not be an acrylic painting of Stanford White’s masterpiece on Long Island, in honor of the National Open coming up in June. Oh yeah, and I put a stamp on it for you.
A little note addressed to you. Written with an actual pen. Because who doesn’t love a smudged sentence on thick, linen, cardstock they can keep as a bookmark… forever?
It’s all packaged up in a 100% cotton, embossed envelope, littered with ink from a Pilot G-2 pen, and topped with a unique stamp that ties into the month somehow. The June stamps feature a cast of characters who played a major role in shaping US history. Hopefully, the USPS will make one of Scottie after he adds his name to that list in a few weeks.
Did I mention it’s only $5 a month? If any of that sounds cool, you can click the button below and use code PARDS for the first month on us. Thanks for being here.
