I received a message this afternoon from my friend, whom we’ll call…Charlie…which, in a roundabout way, informed me that I did not win the Swilcan Package Advanced Tee Time lottery to play the Old Course in 2026. I’ve never been so happy for such a crushing defeat. Why? Because sometimes karma gets you what you need instead of what you want, and universe has a way of working things out.
I can rejoice in fate’s scowl because Charlie’s message informed me that he, a fellow golf tragic, had won a booking of the Swilcan Package at St. Andrews, which includes a guaranteed tee time on The Old Course. The inference is that because he WAS chosen and informed of his date on the Old Course today, I WAS NOT chosen and can probably expect my rejection letter any day now.
While anyone should congratulate and rejoice for a friend chose for such a privilege, today’s news bears a special significance. Earlier this fall, Charlie lost his mother after what, according to all accounts, was a remarkable life that happened to be intertwined with golf. He now has a date certain of an adventure that he and his father will enjoy, making memories that both will cherish for the rest of their lives, all the while knowing that Charlie’s mom is looking down, smiling and laughing at the both of them.
That he was kind enough to share his big news with me before the excitement had worn off was enough to bring me to tears. I think he messaged me because he knows that I know exactly how special that trip is going to be.
Today is the 6th anniversary the flight home from my Swilcan Package Scottish golf adventure. It was the journey that took me to play The Old Course, spawned an intermittent podcast, and bonded me to my compatriots for that trip, Matt and Fred, for the rest of our lives.
It was a cathartic trip for us, in part, because, at that time, Matt had been struggling with a long, slow, eventual goodbye with his mother. Our St. Andrews adventure was the first time he could exhale, relax, and truly rejoice in a moment. The Old Course has that effect on people. The anticipation, memories, and stories are things we readily share, but will always belong to only us.
And now Charlie and his dad get to set out on their own adventure. The memories they make on and off of the golf courses will be indelible, stamped upon their souls for the rest of their lives. I expect that their knees will knock on the first tee, and they’ll hug and laugh on the 18th green a few hours later, all perhaps with tear-stained cheeks knowing that there are standing there with some help from above. And I couldn’t be more thrilled for my friend nor more content to wait another year to see my name chosen for an encore at that magical golf playground.
