Ninth hole at Sandstone Hollow

For the last 20 years, my brother Peter has hosted a weekend get together around his August 23rd birthday. The agenda consists of a crew heading to Saratoga for the Travers Stakes on Saturday followed by a Sunday golf outing at Capital Hills, Albany's municipal course.

In addition to some of his high school, college and Albany friends, many family members have played in the golf tourney over the years, including our brother Jerry and our father, an avid golfer who passed away in December 2008.

Peter emcees the start of the golf outing, announcing all the players before they tee off. As he kicked off the tournament this past August, it hadn't occurred to me that this would be the first Bushwood Open (named for the course in the movie Caddyshack) since Dad had died.

So before he introduced the first foursome he pointed to a lone golf ball on a tee, a Titleist So-Lo, a ball which Dad often played, and asked for a moment of silence which was followed by a round of applause.

It was a nice touch and a way to remember Dad with his crew, several of whom had attended the services, but some who had not. And I'm sure like me, Peter often thinks of Dad when he plays golf, and especially kicking off his annual tournament, which Dad had played a number of times. That day on the first tee of Capital Hills came to mind today in an unexpected way, as I reenacted the last round Jerry, Peter and I played with Dad, on Father's Day 2008.

Earlier that spring, we'd managed to pull together a scaled down version of the golf trip we'd taken every year for about 15 years. Scaled down because Dad was in rough shape from the surgery, radiation and chemo he'd had in his battle with cancer. Though we didn't acknowledge it at the time, we knew it would probably be the last one.

Father's Day was another traditional outing for the four of us, and here again, that sunny June Sunday, we knew it could be the last. Dad's golf had been scaled way back (too bad because he enjoyed it so much and was about a 12 handicap into his 80s prior to his surgery in the fall of 2007) , so we played Sandstone Hollow, a nicely appointed par-3 course at the Turning Stone resort in Verona, NY.

I honestly don't recall much about the round (though I know I played poorly), except for the last hole. Having had many of his left shoulder muscles removed during his surgery, Dad had to play a kind of modified half swing. And though he lacked power, he'd figured out how to make solid contact on a number of shots, though bogey was the best he'd managed on any hole. On the ninth, which played about 120 yards, he hit a low lining fade that ended up on the back edge of the two-tiered green.

He left his first putt from off the green about five feet above the hole, the kind of twisting putt we'd seen Dad miss more times than we'd care to recount. But on that day, Dad managed to curl it in for his only par of the day, on the last hole he ever played.

During what turned out to be the toughest of years, that was a nice memory, one I recalled in the eulogy I gave at Dad's funeral. I omitted from the eulogy that Jerry and Peter also made par on that hole, but I was the odd man out having to settle for bogey after a power lip out.

And maybe the fact I made the only bogey in our foursome was on my mind today, en route to the Syracuse area where I'm staying tonight.

It was 6:15 when I was approaching the Verona exit and if it was open, I figured I could squeeze in a quick nine at Sandstone Hollow before dark. I've struggled so far this year the few times I've played, though I'd had a solid nine just the other night. I think I've figured something out with my swing and wanted to see if it was going to stick. It was turning into a beautiful evening and decided at the very least a stroll around Sandstone Hollow would beat checking email at the hotel.

I wheeled off the Thruway and paid my greens fees. Another time I'll write more about Sandstone Hollow, which is beautifully sculpted from rugged meadows and marshy forestland. Designed by Rick Smith it's one of the top 25 par-3 courses in the U.S. It was not as in nice shape tonight as it has been in the past . They had recently aerated it, though instead of taking out plugs the greens had been carved into small diamonds with narrow furrows. The bunker sand was a little rocky too, but nonetheless, it was fine for my purposes.

There was a foursome a few holes ahead so I played two balls in order to not come upon them too quickly, plus I can use all the practice I can get. After a rocky start I played pretty well and even managed to make a birdie on the sixth almost jarring it on the fly, ending up a mere two feet away.

The sun was low in the sky as I reached the ninth, and I was determined to make par. I pulled the first shot left of the green, not a bad leave but not an automatic up and down given my short game. The second tee shot was a little skinny, but turned out well, ending up about 25 feet past the pin. I wanted to stack the odds in my favor, so I pulled a third ball out of my pocket and struck it nicely, leaving it about 20 feet left of the pin. Three shots at par -- I liked my chances.

Though pin high without any trouble to carry, my first ball had found a messy lie in the rough, which I muscled out to about 15 feet. The second ball had landed further away than I thought from the tee, and though I hit a solid putt, it had sailed about four feet past. I really didn't want to rely on that third tee shot to make par.

I missed the 15 footer of the one I chipped from off the green, so I walked up confidently to the four footer and poured it in.

Par in hand, I went to pick up the third ball, when I noticed something that hadn't caught my attention before. Though I usually play Bridgestone, that third ball was a Titleist So-Lo, and immediately, I thought of Peter's tribute last August.

The sun had just about dipped below the horizon, so I decided to leave it there, a temporary momento in honor of Dad. And though I had to play three tee shots, I was glad I'd finally gotten my par, and left a good chance at birdie for Dad.