Tag Archives: sports

Spyglass Hill: Pebble Beach’s better half?

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When you get the chance to play golf at Pebble Beach, you play there for the incredible scenery, for the amazing golf holes, and for the historic golf moments that have occurred there.  But once you have played the headline course, another great golf opportunity awaits at Spyglass Hill!

Pebble Beach’s main attraction can be “golf overload” for many a golfer the first time they play there. (Trust me on that one.)  Spyglass Hill tends to be a more relaxing golf day.

Spyglass offers a limited amount of the spectacular ocean scenery found at Pebble.  The visual background is nowhere near as dramatic; and once you get past the first five holes, you lose all view of the ocean.  Playing Spyglass is simply a more traditional, picture-perfect, immaculately manicured day of golf.

So the day after I almost choked over Pebble Beach, my brother and I set off for Round 2 at Spyglass Hill.  The weather started out very similar to the previous day at Pebble … cool, foggy, damp.

As we hit balls at the practice tee, the ocean layer fog and mist condensed on the trees overhead and dripped like rain.  As the day progressed the fog eased.  Though there was little sun, the day was comfortable, dry … perfect!

We met our caddy, Doug on the first tee and were paired with two friendly golfers, Pete and Tom, who maintained my perfect record of NEVER being paired with a jerk on a golf course!  Pete’s wife, Joanne, was our fifth and the groups’ unofficial photographer.

Yet another first … someone who walked through 18 holes of golf simply for the scenery and photo ops!

Your first impression of Spyglass Hill is how lush and wooded it is in contrast to the wide open ocean landscapes of its more famous neighbor.  The lush surroundings makes for better overall golf conditions.

At times Pebble Beach suffers from the effects of too much sun and not enough rain.  When we played there, some Pebble Beach fairways had recently gone through hair-plug-type treatments to remedy “pattern baldness” caused by a hot, dry summer.  No such issues were found at Spyglass.

Fairway on par 5 #1 (Treasure Island)  (Photo: J.Jarocewicz)

The first five holes at Spyglass are the most dramatic – scenery wise – of the circuit, with panoramic views of lush forest green against sandy waste areas and the ocean beyond.  After #5 the course moves inland and upwards into the Del Monte Forest.  It’s easy to see how Spyglass differs from Pebble in these first 5 holes.

Looking down #2 (Billy Bones) from the green.

Number 2 is a 349-yard uphill par 4 that requires precision to avoid trouble surrounding the fairway.  Once you get the green at #2, you get your first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean – Spyglass style, which is less dramatic than Pebble but just as beautiful.  The tee shot for the par 3 – 3rd hole (The Black Spot) is one of two Par 3s (#3 & #5) at Spyglass that play directly towards the ocean, although the Pacific is not in play on either hole.

Spyglass Hill was designed by Robert Trent Jones in the 1960s; and the 345-yard (White tees) par-4 fourth hole (Blind Pew) is said to have been his favorite.  And it’s easy to see why.

The hole is neither long or treacherous; but the green is unique and requires precision to set up and execute the best approach.  The green is an estimated 20 feet wide on the back-end; but is as narrow as 8-10 feet on the front side.  The putting surface stretches about 60-75 feet, and quite literally snakes between several dunes and hillocks.

Not only is it an easy green to miss; if you hit it in the wrong spot, you could be looking at a meandering, incredibly long putt, assuming you even have line-of-sight to the hole.  This was easily my favorite hole as it played that day with the pin located at the green’s narrowest spot – the front.

Caddy Doug made his first “stroke saving” contribution here by coaching me through a delicate and tricky chip shot that had to land well off the green to stay on the green!

The back – or “wide” – end of 4th green at Spyglass. Note the thinner lower end trails off to left. (Photo: J.Jarocewicz)

I hit one of my more memorable shots to the green at the par-3 #5 (Bird Rock) after chunking my tee shot into the sandy waste area short and left.  Caddy Doug talked me into an almost effortless recovery shot that resulted in a much appreciated bogey 4.

Spyglass Hill #5 (Bird Rock)

Part of my enjoyment for our round at Spyglass Hill was the fact that I was playing very well from the tees with driver in hand.  Out of 14 holes requiring driver or 3-wood off the tee, I hit 12 fairways; and one of those was a technical near-miss.  With woods all around, you need to be straight off the tees or frustration will reign!

My brother, Pat struggled a bit with his golf demon – the snap hook; but for the most part he was able to keep up with me.  Caddy Doug kept our heads in the game – especially on the back nine – by constantly hustling to position himself as fore caddy.

Many approach shots (more my undoing than those off the tees) have one – if not more – challenging aspects, be they an overabundance of sand or sentry duty performed by perniciously placed ponds.  That being said, I lost but a single ball to “water envelopment”, which for me was a minor accomplishment!

The greens are not full of the crazy, sea-driven breaks and bends found at Pebble Beach; but they present enough of a challenge that investing in a caddy can make a difference.  With that in mind, I highly recommend the services of our caddy, Douglas Allen Miller (dmiller52@live.com) should you go to either Pebble or Spyglass.  Doug is a real hustler; a great source of course information; and works hard to keep your head in the game.

His only drawback is that he’s a stinkin’ Yankees fan!

The gallery on #13 grazes on Pat’s pitch-in birdie!

Other golf highlights of the day were my stiff approach to the flag on the number one handicap hole, the par-4 #8 (Signal Hill), though I missed the par putt.  And brother, Pat thrilled the gallery (left) with a pitch-in birdie on #13 (Tom Morgan).

The deer population is a cute diversion from the “pressures” of golf at Spyglass.  The wildlife is neither frightened or especially put off their feeding by the presence of humans with their long shiny golf weapons.  It is possible to get quite close to the deer; if you take it slow and easy.  They are wary, but obviously used to humans playing stupid games in their midst!  They’ll let you know when you get too close by simply moving away.

The last real drama of the day occurred at another par 3, the 15th (Jim Hawkins).  The shortest hole at Spyglass; it plays to just 98 yards and downhill at that.  (See Pat’s picture above for a look at the shot to #15.)  I was hitting fourth in recognition of my superb snowman on the previous hole.  One of our partners, Tom, preceded me and promptly stuck the ball two feet from the hole; spun it back directly over the hole; ending up about 8 feet below the flag.

I followed that near ace by chosing my trusty 9-iron and stuck my tee shot just two feet past Bill’s quite visible ball mark on the green; but my ball simply trickled down the slope towards the hole, ending up; 4 feet from the hole.

Of course, I missed the birdie putt!

From there on out, and aside from pars by both Pat and I at the 17th (Ben Gunn), our Pebble Beach and Spyglass Hill experiences were coming to an end.

All kidding aside, Patrick played better than me both times; posting a 97 at Spy Glass that included two pars to go along with his stunning pitch-in birdie on #13.

Overall, I loved playing both courses.  Who wouldn’t?!?  But the experience at each course is quite different from the other.

Pebble is a must-do for any golfer who prizes the ultra golf experiences that come only at the sport’s premiere venues.  Spyglass Hill however, is simply golf at its purest, without the thrills and chills of crazy, sea-cliff golf.

Play Pebble Beach because you must.  Play Spyglass Hill simply because you LOVE golf!

More pics from Spyglass Hill:

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Ali is down!! Ali is down!!

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It’s funny how some events seem to stand out more brightly in the vast warehouse of memories we carry around.  It was forty – yes 40! – years ago today that the classic Muhammad Ali-Joe Frazier heavyweight championship fight took place at Madison Square Garden.  They haven’t made heavyweight matchups like this since … well, since then. 

I was not a big boxing fan as a kid, which makes that fact that the Ali-Frazier fight stands out in the memory all the more interesting.  I believe it has more to do with the political/social climate back in 1971, my awakening – if you will – to the important events going on around me, and with the development of  a 15-year-old’s social conscience as I sorted through and examined my own set of values, beliefs, and judgements. 

I can remember a fellow Immaculate Conception (Germantown, Philadelphia) classmate, Timothy Cantwell (another weirdly clear memory) trying to get me interested in the Cassius Clay-Sonny Liston fight in 1964.  At the time I had zero interest in boxing, as the predominant sport in my life was becoming Phillies baseball.  But Cantwell absolutely LOVED Clay.  And you would understand why if you look back over Cassius Clay’s amateur and early professional career.  (I wish I could say I remember watching Clay boxing in the 1960 Summer Olympics, but I was only four at the time!)  And Tim kept claiming Clay was going to destroy Sonny Liston, a popular champion in his own right.

(At this point, I should explain – in case anyone unfamiliar with the story misses the connection – that Cassius Clay was Muhammad Ali’s name back in the early 1960s.)

My above-mentioned awakening was of a pre-Vietnam War sort.  The American portion of that war was just beginning to grow after the French were summarily booted out of the country by the Viet Cong.  As the war grew, as young Americans came home wrecked or in body bags, as the over-18 crowd woke up to the realities of an unpopular war, Cassius Clay stepped onto the national stage; took a controversial stand over a contentious war; and then climbed into the ring at MSG to engage in a monumental battle with Joltin’ Joe Frazier.

Not that I was on his side there in NYC.

No, when the renamed Muhammad Ali was arrested, tried and convicted for his failure to abide by military draft requirements in 1967, I was a staunch supporter of our efforts to purge the world of the Communists.  I thought the Vietnam War had an admirable goal … Freedom for the Vietnamese people.  Fighting to stave off the dreaded Domino Theory.  Keeping the world free from oppression.  I hadn’t considered the extent of corruption in South Vietnam’s leadership, their own people lacking the desire to fight, or whether the USA had a place fighting in what was essentially a civil war.   

I also wasn’t a supporter of anti-war sentiment or groups.  I was too young to appreciate the changes going on around me; too rigid in my beliefs that authority knew best; and certainly too young, too timid to appreciate the growing hippie movement.  Heck, I was attending Father Judge High School, where “long hair” would not be “legalized” until 1974!  Certainly, I hadn’t yet reached the point in my life when I would develop my short-lived liberal tendencies.   

Anyways … For those of us who viewed the-way-things-were as the right way – the only way, Muhammad Ali was almost an anti-Christ.  And Joe Frazier was the champion of the people … our people! 

And it has always rankled whenever I heard Ali describe Joe Frazier as a “house black”, a reference to house slaves in the pre-Civil War South who tended to curry favor with the slave owners.  That was patently unfair.  And as a result, the Frazier-Ali relationship was for decades a jagged and hurtful affair, after two rematches that – while contentious and nasty – never lived up to the original bout.

I never looked at the Ali-Frazier standoff as anything racial.  Ali was simply considered a loud-mouthed troublemaker.  He was stirring things up.  He was making people confront the issues we wished to ignore.  He could talk trash with the best of them.  He could rhyme in ways I imagine would embarrass many a modern rapper.  Heck, He could even best Howard Cosell!!

No, we just wanted Joe Frazier to shut him the H-E-double-hockey-sticks up!! 

Joltin’ Joe did his part that night at Madison Square Garden.  A good number of us rejoiced when Frazier sent Ali to the canvass.  We smugly enjoyed Frazier’s victory and the chipmunk-cheek look Ali carried with him the next day.  And we wallowed in our righteous belief that Ali got what he had coming.

The problem was, Ali was right.  Eventually the country realized that war was wrong  for all the right reasons.  The South Vietnamese weren’t willing to fight as hard to determine their own destiny.  Their government was corrupt and inept.  And in a day when the war was paid for with the blood of young Americans, who – at the time – were old enough to die far away from home but were still too young to vote (26th Amendment adopted July 1, 1971), it became impossible for many – me included – to support a losing cause.

In time I came to appreciate both Joltin’ Joe, a long-time Philadelphia icon, and Muhammad Ali for the incredible athletes they were.  It pains to see what has happened to Ali over the years due to the ravages of Parkinson’s Disease.  Both men are venerable, weakened gladiators who – after years of personal animosity – seem to have come to an amenable understanding.   

But that night in 1971 at Madison Square Garden still shines strongly and as brightly as ever!

My Philly sports memories, circa 1964-80

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My earliest sports memory is walking into the living room where my father is watching a football game on the black-and-white TV.  He was a solid Philadelphia Eagles and Notre Dame football fan.  I recall sitting down and asking him which team he was rooting for – the team in black or the team in white.  Whichever team he said he was rooting for, I would say that I was rooting for the other.  I’m sure he really appreciated my rebellious nature! 

Here are some of the images and names I remember most from the mid-1960s to 1980: 

Dr. J afloat, suspended beneath a wild Afro, Michael Jack … firing that bare-handed grab on the charge, Norm Snead, Ben Hawkins … chinstrap flying,

Ben Hawkins

Timmy Brown, Pete Retzlaff, Cookie Rojas, Clay Dalrymple, Bobby Wine, walking through the tunnel to catch my first glimpse of the field at Connie Mack Stadium (Thanks, Dad!), Ballantine rings, Longine clock, the right field “spite fence”, a double distelfink doubleheader, frantic ’64 anxiety, Gene Mauch, silver wings on green helmets, horrible green wings on white helmets, Bobby Jones and Billy Cunningham, Chris Short and Jim Bunning, Doug Favell and Bernie Parent, Wilbert Montgomery breaking through the line against Dallas (’80 NFC Championship), Harold Carmichael and Tim Rossovich (renown glass-eater), Bobby Wine and Tony Taylor, Bobby Clarke and Bill Barber, Rick MacLeish … hair flowing, 1980 Superbowl fizzle, Dave Schultz, The Broad Street Bullies, Darrell Dawkins … Chocolate Thunder, Franklin Field, The Spectrum … blow-away roof, The Vet, Philadelphia Phil and Phyllis,

Philadelphia Phil & Phyllis

The Bull, The Secretary of Defense, Fathers Day ’64 with Jim Bunning, LCB Line, Ross Lonsberry, Dallas Green, Danny Ozark, Dick Vermiel, Moose Dupont and Big Bird, bench-clearing brawls, The Hound, Joe Scarpatti, Leroy Keyes, Wes Covington and Tony Gonzales, The Tugger … arms raised, 1980 World Series victory, Pete Rose … spiking the ball, Boone-to-Rose … The Catch, Joe Kuharich, Leonard Tose, Ron Jaworski, Bill Bergey, the Curt Flood debacle, Richie Allen … massive homeruns, the car, the headlight, “Coke” and “Trade me” scrawled in the infield dirt, Johnny Callison, Bob Uecker, Rick Wise … 2 homerun/no-hit game, Larry Bowa, Bake McBride, nosebleed seats for the ’76 MLB All-Star Game, By Saam, Richie Ashburn, Harry Kalas, Paul Owens, Rudy Carpenter, Steve Carlton, Kate Smith, Dornhoeffer and the Watson brothers, Eddie Van Impe and Barry Ashbee, Stanley Cups in ’74 & ’75, fog-bound games in The Aud (Buffalo), powder blue Phillies road uni’s, George Brett meet Dickie Nole and have a seat!