Fried Egg Golf at the Meadow Club
Their event in Fairfax underscores a dramatic change for accessibility in golf culture.
I didn’t really know how to write this essay in the normal, detached, footnoted way I typically write things, because the framing of this event in my life touches on some deeply personal topics. So I figured I’d just try to tell the story of the event. There’s a bit of background, so if you’re only interested on the details of the event, you might want to skip ahead.
To start, I’m a golf nerd, but I’m not the type of golf nerd who seeks out courses just to play them. The reason why you’re probably reading this is that I started golfcourse.wiki during the pandemic, almost as a response to the lists of courses that people seek out, because I know that folks love their scruffy munis as much as the championship courses they may visit when the tour comes to town.
I Didn’t Expect to Attend at All
I’ve been wanting to take a trip back to Scotland to visit my friends there from grad school and play some golf, but life keeps getting in the way. I’ve been looking for an apartment for months. In San Francisco that’s very hard. Now, however, with high mortgage rates, most people shopping for homes have turned to renting, and apartment hunting has been about the worst I’ve ever seen. I felt stuck. I couldn’t plan anything. Trying to find a place in San Francisco means always being available at a moment's notice, because it’s not uncommon for the first person who sees a nice place at a decent price to apply on the spot, which can be deeply frustrating when you’re the second person to see a place (which did happen). As summer turned into fall, I knew that trip to Scotland just wasn’t in the cards this year, and it was a real bummer.
Still, only two months ago, I was texting back and forth with my close friend Patrick about a personal best (80), so I’ve had golf on the brain, and wanted to at least do something fun that was golf related. Thus, when Fried Egg Golf announced an October event at the Meadow Club, a short drive north of the city, it caught my interest. It was MacKenzie’s first course in America, and I’d already played and enjoyed Pasatiempo, Sharp Park, and Northwood (all MacKenzie designs), so adding the Meadow Club just seemed natural. I wasn’t definite on going, it was pretty expensive after all, but it would be a good back up plan if I was still too busy to really leave town.
If you had asked me a year ago, I would have brushed off the idea that I would play golf at a fancy club like the Meadow Club. It’s not that it was unthinkable for me to get on, it’s just that, like many in my cohort, I'm rather wary of the private system. Private club culture is diverse, but opaque by design. The idea of closed gates never sat well with me, but when exclusion starts to define golf as a whole, and not just the private system, it can really be frustrating for a public golf advocate like me. There are plenty of private clubs out there that are welcoming, but it’s really hard to know which would be happy to let you visit, and which would laugh at you for even asking. So, when I see the “Best 100” lists, they mostly look like a list of courses I’ll never play anyway, and, perhaps as a defense mechanism, I tend to disregard all of them out of hand.
However, since the Meadow Club was opening up their doors to the public, with tax-exempt rules as they are1, I knew this was as much as they could practically do to let outsiders enjoy their course. The more I thought about it, I figured that if they were willing to open their doors, I should thank them and take them up on that offer. So I signed up, and finally had something fun to look forward to without having to put the apartment search on hold. Plus, who knows, maybe a little networking would help build the wiki.
October Was a Weird Month
Had I known at the time how crazy October would be for me, I probably would have skipped. The month started with a flight back to Austin for a funeral. It was sudden and emotional, and I didn’t even know how long I’d need to be there, but I ended up staying for about a week. Everything took another big emotional turn the next week, because I attended a wedding in far north California where my partner was the maid of honor. I was the only not-technically-wedding-party attendee who stayed for the whole event. It was a wonderful wedding, but not without stress and certainly not without obligations. That was about half the month, with little-to-no actual work done on the website, much less my work that actually generates income.
In the days between those two major milestones, we actually looked at an apartment we liked. We applied, and just after the wedding, got offered the apartment. There was no slowing down. That weekend we signed, and the following weekend we would start moving in… the very same weekend as the Fried Egg event. This was a big move for me. For the first time, I was moving in with a partner. Even though I was obviously excited about it, it was pretty overwhelming. After months of searching, in the middle of a month of chaos, we went from nothing happening to everything happening all at once. I was pretty stressed out, and it showed no signs of slowing.
That weekend was full of boxes and driving. I still hadn’t finished reading through the MacKenzie books I’d promised myself I would finish by this time. My partner was infinitely patient with me as she’d agreed to let me borrow her car when I signed up, months before we knew we’d be moving. She flawlessly leaped through hoops, graciously letting me enjoy the golf guilt-free while she kept moving her stuff from one place to the other (if there is a hero in this story, it’s her). Still, did I really have time for this event? I’d planned ahead, but there were just so many little things to do: getting the internet set up in the new place while the roommates at my current place still relied on the service I had set up there; scheduling a walk-through of my old place with the landlord so I could get my security deposit back. It was all just dumb stuff you don’t think about when making plans months in advance, but it adds up, and the stress about something going sideways was on top of everything else.
There were also the private club questions I was too embarrassed to ask about. The Fried Egg guys had sent out an email, but I didn’t know how all this would work. Even the etiquette classic, “can I change my shoes in the parking lot,” seemed relevant but wasn’t covered. Should I bring my push cart?
I know the weather is going to be classic Marin County: chilly in the morning and warm in the afternoon. Hmm, my lightest weather pants have a side pocket; would that be interpreted as cargo pants? Will I need to change into shorts if it gets too hot? Will I be allowed to change in the locker rooms?
Was I overthinking this?
Then there was the other curveball in the process. While this blog has a relatively small readership, I learned not only that the folks at the Fried Egg have seen some of my posts on this blog, but that they’d specifically read the one where I was critical of one of their editorial choices.2 That sucked. Though their team shared this information with me in good spirits, stepping on someone’s shoe right as you meet them isn’t the way I’d like things to have gone at all. So much for networking – now I just hoped I wouldn’t be greeted with a sneer. Did they know that I only write about folks doing great work in the golf media?3 That the reason I don’t waste time criticizing “Best 100” lists is that they are pulp trash at best, and golf course marketing at worst? I was a fan of theirs. I thought I’d made that clear in the criticism. Uff, more stress. At that point, though, there wasn’t much to do about it. The day had arrived, I’d be driving up soon, and whatever happened, happened.
The Event
I knew I would do the optional pre-event dinner. It was at a cute restaurant in Fairfax, and my friends who know the area recommended it. The drive up went fine. I arrived nearly an hour early trying to avoid traffic that never materialized, so I headed to my favorite Fairfax bar to kill time. Walking in, there, at a big table, I saw the whole Fried Egg crew obviously prepping for the dinner event.
I didn’t want to be a bother, so I grabbed a beer and headed to a different table. I bumped into Andy on the way, and I said “Hi, I’m Matt. I’m going to the event later, but I’ll leave y’all alone while you get ready. It’s fun to run into you at one of my favorite bars.” Andy immediately dismissed my politeness and suggested that I come sit with them. I obliged and the whole crew were extremely gracious and chatted with me until they needed to head over to the restaurant. Any worries I had quickly evaporated. The Fried Egg team seemed as excited about the event as I was. It was everything you would expect: talking to Cameron about his photos and illustrations, Garrett about architecture criticism, and Brendan about how I don’t have any idea who “Septic Tank” is or any of their other nicknames, but I still really enjoy the Shotgun Start anyway.
The serendipity continued at dinner. I recognized Joshua Pettit (editor of that MacKenzie book I’ve been reading for the past few months) from an interview he's done about Augusta National on YouTube. When I realized that his book was in the car, I felt golf-nerd squee as I suddenly realized I might be able to get him to sign it. I didn’t have a ton of time before the dinner started, so I immediately went over and said hello and started chatting about the book. In a very awkward-for-me turn of events, it turned out I didn’t need to rush. There was assigned seating at the dinner, and his seat was adjacent to mine. As we ate, he regaled me with stories of all the incredible essays and letters that didn’t end up in the book. My trying to quickly ask him for an autograph slowly morphed—quite imperfectly—into me “casually" bringing up. Pettit was nothing but gracious about it, though, and after I grabbed my book (he didn’t seem to notice the bookmark not quite at the end), the person sitting on the other side remarked, “Oh, The MacKenzie Reader, I have that book at home!”, to which I pointed at Pettit next to me and replied, “he’s the editor!” More discussion of MacKenzie’s humor, legacy, and views on war followed. It was an incredible way to spend dinner; I was not even close to being the biggest golf nerd in the room, and that’s really saying something.
It was really special. I couldn’t have imagined I’d go from being nervous about the weekend, to having spent nearly an hour with the folks I’d come to see, and with an autograph in the book I was reading. It was an emotional high that made me wonder what I’d even been worried about in the first place. The weekend would be fun, I just needed to relax and enjoy it.
The next morning, I arrived at the Meadow Club and was greeted by Andy, who somehow remembered my name even though he must have met 50 people the night before. It had been a healthy drive to the course for me, well before sunrise, so I found myself a large cup of coffee as soon as I could and had a big breakfast.
The first round was an alt-shot team event. I had been planning on mostly penciling notes in my pre-prepared course guide4, and my teammate and I agreed to focus on fun instead of winning, which meant more time for notes. During the match I realized I’d have more time than I needed though, as our higher-handicap group definitely “got their money’s worth,” by which I mean, though it was meant to be a quick game, it dragged on as players took in all the sights and sounds. I saw few putts given and fewer concessions in that round. Not that I could really blame these folks of course, the scenery was amazing, wildlife was everywhere, and we all knew this was, indeed, a once-in-a-lifetime experience for most everyone involved.
“Four hours and forty minutes” Andy told me with a chuckle after I finished the hike back from our shotgun start position. I’d figured as much, but still had to laugh about it. Water under the bridge though; we had taken too much time and had fifteen minutes til the next round started. But, my team had won both of our matches, so I stuffed my face with as much lunch as I could, headed to the locker room for sunscreen, a switch to shorts, and fresh socks, and I was back on the course ahead of schedule.
The second round was really delightful. I’m the type of person who thinks it’s difficult to appreciate a course the first time around, and getting a second chance at each hole really lets me take much more of it in. The course was obviously exceptional, and the folks we were paired with were fantastic, and I wouldn’t have enjoyed it nearly as much if there hadn’t been such positive camaraderie. We didn’t win in the end, but we were all smiling and laughing all the way to the last hole. The event was the polar opposite of my previous month. It was fun, relaxing, invigorating, and just a good time where everyone was just excited to be there with each other.
I Miss My Friend
After the round, however, I felt something was missing. What the folks at the event couldn’t have known is that, well, that sudden flight back to Austin at the start of the month was for the memorial for my close friend Patrick. He’d been sick for a long time, but this was the first major golf experience after which we wouldn’t be sending each other paragraph-long text messages about everything that had just happened, and how excited we were for each other.
Patrick Dickson was a golf maniac. He was the friend leaning over and whispering, “don’t look now…,” as I suddenly realized Ben Crenshaw sitting at the table directly adjacent to me at dinner. He was the friend who insisted we show up at 3am to get to the starters box at the Old Course so we might end up in the same group (we did). His photos from visits to Pebble Beach and Torrey Pines were exactly the type I’d have sent him from the Meadow Club at the event dinner if I were able to.
Patrick visited as many private clubs in Austin as he could… as a volunteer during professional events. They are courses he would never play because of the divide that separates much of the public and private golf world. I think it’s safe to say that golf’s access-game is not a healthy one for a family man with three young daughters and a mortgage to pay. Still, Patrick was the type of player that every club should want to welcome: a single-digit handicap, respect for the land, insight on the game, conscious of pace, and good-humored while also being deeply kind. Unfortunately, as far as I know, he was unable to play the most architecturally significant courses in our hometown: Pete Dye’s incarnation of the Austin Country Club, and Coore & Crenshaw’s design at the extremely private Austin Golf Club.
I know the 501(c)(7) rules, and I know these clubs could provide some access if they wanted to. The way they can do this is to do exactly what the folks at Fried Egg Golf are pursuing with their events. Andy seems to be using his influence to open doors at some of the clubs with the best architecture in the world, and the Meadow Club fits squarely in that category. Fried Egg Golf really seems to be hosting these events simply for the benefit of their fellow golf nerds. So that the type of people who might recognize a two-time Masters champion at a small Tex Mex joint, or the editor of a MacKenzie compendium at a bistro in Fairfax, can actually visit the courses they read about, instead of just seeing them on a screen.
This Type of Event is Bigger than Just a Golf Trip
With this reflection on my mind as I was getting ready to leave, I brought up with each of the Fried Egg folks that I thought these events were bigger than just a bunch of us having a good time. These events can, and probably already do, change golf culture for the better. People who are passionate about golf being equitable and accessible (people like me) should take note and take part.
At the end of the day, the cost of the event was a big number on paper, but when broken down, it was entirely reasonable. Two rounds of golf, three square meals, comped drinks and snacks for most of the day, and use of the range and locker room. By my math, after subtracting for amenities, it comes out to under $300/round. Compare that number to the big name privates that welcome visitors in Scotland—Carnoustie (£282), Gullane (£250), North Berwick (£200), Muirfield (£495 for two rounds)—and the price seems fairly competitive. All of that is before considering compensation for the folks actually running the event. In my book, the price is high, but it’s more than fair.5
I think the pollyannaish take from this weekend is that, maybe the public-private divide in America is waning, and maybe Patrick’s daughters don’t grow up in a world where they look at private clubs with the same skepticism that I do. Perhaps the next generation of club members will want to share their stewardship with the outside world.
Now that I think of it, though, I honestly don’t care if it’s naive. If the folks at Fried Egg Golf keep doing what they are doing successfully, maybe others will join them. If that happens, things will change, and that future is the one I want to see for golf in America.
If I were able to give out eggs, this event would get all the eggs. And I’m not saying everyone should go sign up for everything they host. Honestly, these events are far too expensive for me to follow along at each destination like some of the people I met in Fairfax are doing. That said, when Fried Egg Golf hosts an event near your city, I would strongly recommend attending. I know I’ll be back.
Folks I think are worth writing about, and folks you should be paying attention to: Jim Hartsell’s books, the Feed the Ball Salon podcast, Cookie Jar Golf’s “Eclectic Eighteen” interviews. Group Golf Therapy’s focus on mental health, but Fried Egg Golf seems to be the most consistent golf outlet for the everyday golf nerd. I have great respect for all these outlets, and yes, everyone’s a critic and it’s easy to snipe. However, I started this blog with a focus on talking about the things that matter in golf culture that are often uncomfortable to talk about. The name of the blog is a euphemism for a fistfight, and the metaphor is to remind me that I should write like it will only be read by close friends. I don’t pull punches so that my praise isn’t seen as sycophantic.
I think it’s important here to note that I strive for golf to be affordable, and I know all these courses are much cheaper for locals than they are for overseas guests. However, I want to focus on access here. If a course is too expensive for one’s liking, that’s a fair concern as well, but I really think being able to save up and play it, even if only once in a while, is a decent balance for where golf culture is today, though ideally, that could change in the future. As long as we’re talking about the costs associated with playing an exclusive course at less than 10x what the members/locals pay, I think we’re still within reasonable territory.