girl caddies, Heath lookalikes, & 'move or be moved'

Both Mini and Reggie learned to caddy this summer.  As a 14 year old, Mini is off to a late start by our family's standards.  Both my dad and Coach's dad caddied back in their day.  Coach and his two younger brothers caddied at the same course where my two younger brothers caddied.  It is in our blood.  But a girl caddy?  A first. 

Mini's late-bloomer-caddy status is due to the fact that Coach and I didn’t think she could handle it.  In addition to the physical demands of carrying a bag full of golf clubs around on a roasting summer day, there were other considerations.

Lad knew I was trying
to snap a caddy photo
 back in May - thus the flex. 
Reg is in the background
getting in the caddy mobile.  

Golfers can be rude.  They don’t always hesitate to pee on trees.  They are known for using foul language and telling offensive jokes.  From what I have heard, they aren’t always able to control their tendencies to drink in excess.  Of course there are plenty of gentlemen who golf, so excuse me for the generalizations.  

There are also loads of caddies who don’t practice the best manners.  With 4 brothers caddying, I worry little about a caddy offending Mini.  He would have to be a pea brain or a caddy with a secret death wish, because who would dare to offend the girl caddy who shows up each morning with four brother caddies . . . Three of whom are older, twice as muscular, and more seasoned than she is?

The boys scoffed at the idea of Mini caddying last year, and they still raised an eyebrow or more at the suggestion this year.  Mini has grown to be taller than me now.  She is 5’10”.  She insisted that she was going to attend the training and give it a try.  

Reg was technically younger than the approved start age of 13 when he started training alongside Mini in the spring.  Reg turns 13 in January.  His brothers started early too, except for Laddie because we missed the training dates.  Silly, rookie-parent-of-future-caddies mistake.

To her credit, Mini survived her first round, and THEN SOME.  She caddied consistently all summer.  She regularly:

     1.  woke up before the sun (another reason I never thought she would make it - this girl is like her mother:  ‘I need my sleep or else'),

     2.  waited in the caddy shack for hours, 

     3.  texted me to let me know how hungry she was,

     4.  lugged around heavy bags,

     5.  dealt with interesting personalities,

     6.  accepted the ridiculous tan lines that come with the territory,

     7.  listened to her brothers’ feedback (this had to be challenging!),

     8.  survived Lad’s grouchy, early morning outbursts

     9.  Fought the good fight to hold on to the caddy towel she brought, despite Lad's or other brother's attempts to steal it

     10.  And eventually got hooked!  

Ed on his way to join the caddies. 
Asking them to pose for a caddy
 photo would exploit their coolness somehow.

One day after returning from a day of caddying, the caddies were all hovered around the kitchen
table scarfing down anything that closely resembled food.  Eddie, who has a tendency to pick on Mini, groaned about her appearance.

This is not the most accurate photo
of Mini's 'Heath' look.  Snatching
 a photo of her in full Heath mode
 fresh from the golf course would
 have pushed the envelope.  Big time.
  This was after tennis.
 A weak replica at best.

‘I will not allow her to return to the golf course until she gets her hair under control.  You are giving the family a bad name.  Put on a caddy hat or a hair band or something. You look ridiculous.’

I had to agree with him.  Her whispy hairs that escaped her loose, low pony tail were flailing out to the sides like Medusa.  As much as I hate to encourage Eddie’s knit-picking of Mini, I couldn’t help it:  ‘It does look like you are doing a decent imitation of Heath Ledger when he was in the movie ‘The Patriot.’

The nickname stuck.  Whenever the messy bun pops up - let’s face it, that’s a daily occurrence,  I remind Mini of her Heath Ledger resemblance.

My favorite parts of being the mother of 5 caddies: 
     1.  Curly waking up hours after they have left and looking lost and confused, 
     2.  the sharing and comparing of hilarious stories at the end of the day,
     3.  the caddy master quote that I just learned about - when he sees my kids approach each morning, he calls out:  'Here come the Shenanigans.  Move or be moved.'