The CSGA Links Volume 5 Issue 1 April 2017 | Page 4
FIRST SHOT
Message from the CSGA Executive Director - Mike Moraghan
Golf’s Unsung Heroes
M
y Mom turned 100 over the winter.
She has continued to shrink a little
each year, and somewhat weakened
after defeating a nasty flu bug in February, she
has conceded the need to occasionally use a cane.
Mentally she is just as sharp as she was when she
taught 5th grade English and Social Studies.
My Mom grew up in Plymouth and has been
a gardener her entire life. This time of year we talk
about what is blooming – forsythia…daffodils…as
well as the Yankees and the start of baseball season.
She was never a golfer, preferring a short
spade or an iron rake to a nine-iron or a putter, but
her love of the earth instilled in me an appreciation
of those who tend to it and care for it with
demonstrable zeal. And my father, who was a real
golfer instilled in me an understanding that golf
course superintendents were to be held in the type
of high regard reserved for priests and policemen.
My father happened to be the Greens
Chairman at the Country Club of Waterbury in the
late 1950s when the club realized they needed to
rebuild their original putting greens. With no internal
drainage, Donald Ross’ original masterpieces had
taken a beating over the years.
Of course, not every area of every surface
was bad, so with the help of then superintendent,
Charlie Baskin, my Dad identified the healthiest
turf available, and using one of Charlie’s sod cutters
removed and rolled up enough of it to build our
very own living, breathing putting green on Prospect
Street in Litchfield.
I’m not sure if Dad got permission from
Mom to give up a 36’ x 18’ rectangle in our backyard
(potential garden space) and I never asked, but I
sure enjoyed it for the next 20 years! Along the way
I learned a tiny amount of agronomy and gained a
lifelong admiration for the Charlie Baskins of the
4 | CSGA Links // April, 2017
world.
Ever
the
caretaker, Mom also
took part in the
upkeep, syringing the
surface on hot days
when Dad and I were
doing the important
work of playing 18
holes at Waterbury or some other course. She was as
devoted to “the green” as she was to her own plants,
and only occasionally reminded us that it would
have wilted multiple times without her syringing.
Alas, after 20+ years we could no longer
maintain it with our collective part time efforts and
the green was lost. Dad and I continued to play at
Waterbury and Mom plowed up the old sod and
created the best vegetable garden on the street.
I know my admiration for golf course
superintendents is rooted in those early years in the
backyard, long before I actually walked onto a real
golf course and witnessed the full majesty from
every tee to every green. These men and women
who make things grow and cultivate the most
beautiful landscapes are magicians in my mind, real
stewards of the earth.
How could we not admire a group of folks
who put in ridiculously long days, who pay close
attention to the smallest details of land covering
hundreds of acres, who seek no glory or trophy only
the satisfaction of getting it right and making it look
and play great, and who literally get their hands dirty
every day so that others can glean some enjoyment
from the result of their labor?
Now it is one thing to maintain a nice track
in Florida, where abundant sunshine, sandy soil
and a 365-day growing season is the norm. Quite
a different challenge up here when every spring
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