A Perfect Birthday Gift

As she said, it was an uncharacteristic gift for her.

And indeed, you would not ordinarily find “golf” and “Priscilla” in the same sentence – in fact, it would be extraordinary. The world of golf is the antithesis of all that Priscilla espouses in her life (forgetting for a moment that she does translation work for Hermes and the luxury goods conglomerate LMVH – after all, that’s business – but then so is golf, some would say!). But Priscilla knew that I played golf, and had a hankering of sorts to play here in France, and so for my birthday she gave me a gift certificate to play a round of golf at a nearby Cote d’Azur course.

That was May 28th. I flew to the States for a round of family visits on June 3rd, and before I left, Priscilla reminded me to make a reservation at the course soon – the idea was that she would accompany me on my outing, and she wanted to make sure she had some time reserved on her calendar. We came up with a suggested timing, the week of June 22nd, but I didn’t actually try to make a reservation until I returned from my travels the week of June 15th.

That Monday, the 15th, looking over the brochure for the Opio-Valbonne course, I found a website listed, through which one could reserve a tee time. On the reservation site, I sent in a request to play the following week, on Wednesday, the 24th, with an afternoon start around 3 p.m. (Making tee times via the internet is pretty common in the States too.) I received a confirmation via email for my visit:

Dear Madam,

Further to your request, we are pleased to confirm the following booking :
On Wednesday 24th June at 3:06 pm for 1 player.
Please let us know your handicap.

Best Regards
Emeline

Well, that was cool. Reservation made! Except for the one request – I don’t have a handicap. One receives a handicap after one has registered with one’s golf club and records in the onsite computer one’s scores for play on that course. When one has played a certain number of games, the computer spits out a number that is your “handicap” – a numerical measure of your ability, based on the tees on the course. It is meant to show your potential, but folks tend not to improve their scores (and therefore, not their handicap).

So, I wrote back to Emeline.

Cher Emeline,

Merci pour votre confirmation.
J'ai joué au golf depuis que je suis jeune, mais je ne joue pas régulièrement, donc je n'ai pas un handicap. Je sais le jeu et ses règles très bien, cependant. Ma marque est généralement autour de 110-120.
Je tiens à vous rappeler que j'ai un certificat-cadeau. Aussi, si il n’y pas des autres qui jouent avec moi, est-ce que possible mon amie m’accompagne autour la course? Elle ne le joue pas, mais elle me donne le certificat pour mon anniversaire, donc, si possible, s'il vous plaȋt, faites le moi savoir.

À bientȏt,
Margarita Brose

[Tr: Thanks for your confirmation. I’ve played golf since I was young, but I don’t play regularly, therefore I don’t have a handicap. I know the game and the rules very well, however. My score is generally around 110-120.

I want to remind you that I have a gift certificate. Also, if there aren’t any others playing with me, is it possible that my girlfriend accompany me on the course? She doesn’t play, but she gave me the certificate for my birthday, so if it is possible, would you please let me know?]

Broses and Golf: A Short History

I figured it was worth a try. I have been playing golf since I was a teenager, and my dad first took me out to play at Cherry Hill in North Amherst, I think it must have been. My Dad grew up playing golf, because his Dad was a golfer. My grandfather Brose enjoyed the game, but he also thought it was a great way to meet people and to make business contacts. He would tell stories of how he got great stock tips on the golf course. I was listening (and have since become a pretty good stock picker myself). My grandfather was an astute investor, and I don’t believe for a minute he meant he sought out nonpublic information from his golf companions, but he was a good listener, and made some shrewd investments.

My Dad played off and on through his working years (he spent more time playing tennis), but when he retired in the late 1990’s, he turned to golf full-time. And he began to encourage my brother and me to play more as well. We didn’t need too much encouragement. Several years earlier, when I began working as an attorney at the Securities and Exchange Commission in Washington (and learning all about insider trading, and deciding my grandfather was not an inside trader!), I found some like-minded colleagues who were up for an occasional nine holes at the Hains Point Golf Course in the early morning before work. And a few years later, I found that my new husband enjoyed golf as well, and soon our vacations became pretty golf-focused.

My husband Bob encouraged me to take private lessons, and he found a teacher for me at a local public course. My teacher was great, and I was an eager learner – I really did want to get better. My swing improved, and my game improved. For a few years, we played regularly on Saturday afternoons or early evenings during the summer, as there was a fairly decent par 3 public course just a half mile from our condo in Falls Church.

My Dad continued to encourage my game as well, and one year his birthday gift to me was a two-day golf clinic at a highly-acclaimed Western Massachusetts course, Crumpin-Fox. It was fantastic, honestly. The first day was spent in group lessons, and some one-on-one attention; day two was 18 holes of golf, accompanied by an instructor. I’d never known how to read a course; the tips for how to size up the hole, avoid traps, and make good intelligent shots was great. It was the first time I was told that I had the potential to be a good player (by a pro, that is, my Dad told me that all the time).

Golf and Business

While I was enjoying the challenge of becoming a better player, I also knew that being able to play golf was a business advantage for me. As I learned from my grandfather, men in business like to play golf. When I went to an industry conference in Desert Springs, California in 1999 (as with most conferences of this type), the first day was an optional golf day for the conference attendees. I made sure to sign up to play. And I found out that there was no need for me to be self-conscious or nervous about playing with colleagues or my superiors – on the golf course, at least among men, there are very few sins. Golf is a game where guys that are great players are gracious (generally) to their compatriots that whack at the ball. And the whackers may be frustrated by their game, but they aspire to be better – and for some reason don’t mind playing (generally) with folks that are much better than they are.

I had the experience of playing a few more times in work-organized golf days, and found the respect of men (my colleagues) for women (me) that played the game was more than worth the occasional embarrassment of whiffing the ball on the tee.

Reserving at Opio-Valbonne

So, back to the receptionist at Opio-Valbonne.

I forgot, we’re in France. Here’s the reply:

Cher Mme Brose,

Pourriez-vous nous re-dire quel est votre handicap , autour de 110 -120 ?
Pour jouer sur notre parcours, nous demandons au minimum que les joueurs possède la carte verte (hcp 53) ainsi qu'une licence à jour.
Peut-être avez vous une attestation de votre club qui nous prouvera que vous jouer bien au golf.
Sinon, sans ces 2 documents, vous pourrez utiliser notre practice.
Recevez nos meilleures salutations.

[Tr: Can you tell us again what is your handicap, around 110-120? To play on our course, we ask at a minimum that the players have a green card (handicap 53) and a day license. Perhaps you have a club attestation that you are a good golf player? Without these two documents, you can only use our driving range. Please accept our best greetings.]

The Opio-Valbonne course is on the Cote d’Azur, and of course caters to the rich Europeans who live in near obscurity in the surrounding villages (the course is located just north of Cannes). It should not have been a surprise that they would try and keep out the riff-raff like me. And France is a country that is all about making sure you have a certificate before you do something athletic. (Refer to my earlier blogs on running a 10km road race in France.)

So, quite deflated, I wrote back to the receptionists (this one was named Karima):

Karima,
Je n'ai pas la carte verte, mais je joue avec une handicap de 53.
Je n'ai pas un club aux États Unis où je joue régulièrement. Seulement mon père peut attester que je joue bien au golf!
Il semble donc que je ne peux pas jouer à votre parcours de golf. Confirmez, s'il vous plaȋt.
Avec mes sentiments meilleurs,
Margarita Brose

[Tr: I don’t have a green card, but I play with a handicap of 53. I don’t have a club in the US where I play regularly. Only my father can attest that I’m a good golf player! It looks like I can’t play on your course. Please confirm. With my best wishes.]

Chère Mme Brose,

Je ne peux malheureusement pas prendre votre réservation sans attestation de niveau de jeu, ni licence. Par contre vous pouvez utiliser notre practice, putting green et pitching green.
Merci et Bonne soirée.

[Tr: Unfortunately I can’t take your reservation without an attestation of your game or a license. On the other hand, you can your our driving range, putting green and pitching green. Thank you and have a good evening.]

I copied Priscilla on this last round of emails with Golf Opio-Valbonne. She called me from her vacation in Corsica to let me know that she’d be happy to get in touch with the manager of the course when she returned, as that is how she got the gift certificate in the first place. Priscilla is involved with the Club des Entrepreneurs in Grasse, the city where she lives; it is a business association for small business owners like herself. She met the golf course manager through this association, and was willing to try and figure out how to get around the handicap issue for me. She was really quite eager for me to take advantage of my birthday gift!

I told her that I would ask a choir friend of mine too, about the license requirement. I knew that Philippe played golf, as he and my father had talked about it when Philippe and Odette entertained my parents during their visit back in February. I saw Philippe that Friday night at our end of year choir party, and told him my story, of trying to get a reservation at the Opio course without a license. And he did confirm for me, indeed, this was something I needed to play. He hadn’t realized, I guess, that I played as well, given that his previous conversation had been with my Dad, not me.

Golf Game is a Go!

I was surprised to hear from Philippe the following Monday, however. In a conversation in French, of which I understood about half of what he was saying, I did get this much – he wanted to confirm the course for which I held my gift certificate, and said that he had a friend in town who would be up for playing golf, and he often played at that course, and could probably get me on the course without the handicap being a problem. Was I available Thursday or Friday to play? Friday, I said, hopefully. He said he’d call back when he could confirm that we could all play.

Priscilla emailed me on Tuesday when she returned from Corsica that she had made an effort to reach the manager at the golf course, unsuccessfully. I told her to wait, that it looked like I might be playing after all. She was happy to hear about the turn of events, as she had thought that it would be more fun for me to play with a group of folks (rather than have her come along for the ride), and I didn’t disagree.

I heard from Philippe on Wednesday morning. It was all confirmed, we would be playing, a foursome, on Friday morning at 9:45 a.m. He would pick me up at 8:15 a.m. that morning. And I would be able to borrow clubs from one of the men, as his wife was currently unable to play. You play right-handed?, he asked. Yes, I said. [I am left-handed, but have always played golf right-handed, as my father decided when I started out that I would be a stronger player as a rightie – and I think it was the right (natch!) decision.]

Friday morning arrived. Philippe picked me up early, and we took off for Opio-Valbonne, about a 45 minute drive from Nice, along small, winding roads in the countryside from Nice toward Grasse. We arrived first, but soon Michel arrived (the 10-handicap player), a friend and former colleague of Philippe – the two of them had worked in the African country of Gabon – in fact, Michel still works there one week a month, living outside Cannes the rest of the time. And then the other Michel arrived, with my clubs. He plays with Philippe and Michel occasionally, I gathered, and lives in Antibes, a seaside town between Cannes and Nice.

We had some time to do some practice swings before our 9:45 team time. I was fully outfitted for my day on the course: golf glove (gant) borrowed from Philippe, golf clubs (McGregor irons and Cobra woods) from Michel, a pull cart (chariot) rented from the clubhouse (thanks to Philippe), and golf balls and tees borrowed variously from the guys. I wore my Nike Pegasus running shoes, instead of renting golf shoes (as Priscilla had graciously offered as a gift), as the (good player) Michel had said they would be fine. And I wore my University of Pennsylvania casquette (baseball cap), fitting in with the guys just fine.

Golfing in France

My swing off the first tee was magnificent! Wow, like these clubs, I thought. And I continued to hit well through the first par 4 hole, ending up with a bogie. On the second hole, par 3, I actually parred the hold. Amazing, I thought. What dream was I in? Playing golf in the south of France, playing perfect strokes with borrowed clubs, in running shoes, and with men that are only speaking French to me.

It was a great until about the 4th hole. And then, the lack of practice and my lack of playing started to kick in. I ended up with a 56 on the front nine, and 66 on the back nine – the last two holes were, unforgivingly, par 5 holes. But, given that the last time I had played was in October, I didn’t feel so bad. As I told Odette later that day, “Je suis content avec mon jeu.” I was happy with how I played, given everything.

And I wasn’t surprised when the (good player) Michel said to me as we walked off the 18th hole, You know, with some more practice, you would have a pretty good handicap (or words to that effect, in French). Yeah, I know.

Je te remercie, Priscilla. Un cadeau excellent!