The good old days

When people hear what I do for a living, the first question they ask is, “Are you good at golf?” Absolutely not. The next question is, “What do you do daily?” I often struggle with this question, because I don’t quite know how to concisely answer. “It depends” was the response I used for a while. It depends on the season, depends on what’s happening in that season, which depends on something else, etc. A few years back I realized the best answer is that a superintendent mainly solves problems. Sometimes we solve them well and sometimes the problem lingers, and we keep picking at the solution. I’m sure this is what most jobs boil down to, but I only know what I do.

Because we’re hired to solve problems it means all we are looking for is what needs fixed. If something is good, we acknowledge it by taking it off the to-do list and moving on to the next issue, often without celebrating the success of the moment with ourselves or our crew. This approach to work makes it easy to slip into pessimism. Always being focused on problems can lead to a negative mindset. As a result, it seems like sometimes hanging out with other superintendents can be a pessimistic experience, even though most of us love our jobs.

Last month, a former superintendent at my course was back playing a round of golf with one of our members and, while we were talking (read: complaining), the member pointed out that he doesn’t think superintendents are ever happy.

And I think he’s right.

That’s part of what makes so many of us successful — we don’t care if 98 percent of the course is perfect, there is always more driving us to improve the property. It’s something that I love about this job, the never-ending chase of improvement no matter how futile this really is. I suspect most of you feel the same way. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.

I am certainly guilty of this mindset. Golfers will tell me that the course is great, they’ll compliment the crew and I’ll sheepishly thank them as I think of all the issues I saw this morning that I suspect will lead to my termination. Part of what makes us good at this job is that we see problems golfers don’t, which means we can address them before they become bigger. What compounds the frustration are the few golfers who do complain about some trivial things. For a long time, these complaints would infuriate me. But in trying to see things in a different way, I’ve started writing down these complaints, then sharing them with the crew and telling them about the very scientific chart I’ve developed on course complaints.

Among the more absurd complaints:

• The drinking water in the coolers isn’t cold enough
• My feet get wet walking from the tee to the fairway because there is no courtesy path
• There aren’t enough divot boxes/tee collection boxes/ball washers/plug in other complaints about the lack of course accessories that cost too much and add labor and clutter to the course
• And, my favorite, there are sticks in the woods

To spin this as a positive, I will let the crew know during the morning meeting whenever we get a complaint like this and then tell them I couldn’t be happier. If a golfer is upset because the irrigation head in the rough 350 yards out on a par 5 doesn’t have the exact yardage on it, then we’re doing a lot of other more important things well. Of course, if you get a legitimate complaint then you really have some work to do! But the more I want to roll my eyes at a complaint, the better we are doing. We are a private club, and I know we do a pretty good job; I can only imagine the complaints that the highest-end clubs get.

However you prioritize maintaining the course, a lot of these problems are far from where you’re focusing resources. Like most of you, we focus on greens back and centerline out when ranking problems. In an ideal world all the above complaints — or whatever absurd complaints you’ve heard — are dealt with. I don’t say all this to minimize the feedback we get; it’s why we’re here, it’s what golfers expect and it’s what they give us money to do. But there is a limit to every operation.

Despite all its frustrations, this job is great, and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. I suppose I just wanted to say out loud, if only for me, that I really love this job. It can be easy to be pessimistic and find nothing but problems and say that things aren’t as good as they used to be, but I don’t really believe that. Problems come with every job and we must focus intently on our problems to deliver on the expectations of membership. The irony is that the positive cycle of our improvement can lead to more nit-picking complaints, which may create a negative feedback loop on our mood. To a certain point, the better a superintendent is at their job, the more frustrating it has the potential to be.

I’m on the board of our local association and I have good relationships with a lot of my peers. Whenever we get together, we often end up complaining about the job. We’re lucky to work in this profession and while we will never stop looking for problems, don’t let it blind you to the fact that this job is special. We get to work outdoors and see the short- and long-term improvements of our hard work and yes, solve some challenging and fun problems. We are surrounded by equally driven peers who support us with our struggles and celebrate our successes and part of what makes that success so sweet is knowing just how damn hard it can be.

Lenny Marino, a friend and one of the great people in our industry, likes to say, “we’re living the good old days right now.” He’s right, and I don’t want to forget that, and I don’t want you to forget it. The job is exactly what I want to be doing and despite my (hopefully irrational) perpetual fear of termination, I take great pride in what we’ve accomplished at Sand Ridge. Ideally, from time to time, we’re all able to take off the superintendent glasses and put on golfer glasses, where wilt, disease, cart traffic and labor issues are nowhere to be found and the biggest concern is where the next cold beer can be sourced.

Enjoy these good old days, and the next time you’re up to your shoulders in an irrigation hole or some other problem, try to remember that you’ll be looking back laughing about it someday with the people who understand because they’re lucky enough to be doing the same thing.

Ian Gallagher is the director of golf course operations at Sand Ridge Golf Club in Chardon, Ohio. This is his first Turfheads Take Over contribution.