Golfadelphia

There’s the part in “Dead Poet’s Society” towards the beginning where the class is just getting acquainted with Robin Williams as their English professor and one of the students is reading some excerpt that provides a rather scientific formula on evaluating the quality of poems. Robin Williams directs the students to tear that section of the book out then and there. Hopefully I’m not spoiling the movie for anyone; it came out 37 years ago and the presentation of the message makes it worth seeing even if the viewer already knows what that message is. The movie goes on with Robin Williams in various unorthodox ways trying to impress on the students that poetry is an expression of the drama of life. It is something felt within that rises up until it cannot be contained any more. Walt Whitman characterizes it as sounding his, “barbaric yawp.” Poetry is a vehicle of getting at that intrinsic passion of life. “Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love; these are what we stay alive for.” Fishers Island is a golf course where I simply feel it resonate in my bones. I could get into the technical aspects of the course to explain its greatness but it’s more important to tear out that section of the book and instead, speak of how it is one of those places that reaches the deep recesses of our being and indeed, walking its land is what we stay alive for.

The boat ride to the island sets the tone. These are nautical surrounds. We gently move from the coastal village to open water and stretch out. The island comes into view soon enough and to me, this view is important. One can see the horizon of the island and the irregularaties of the coast that Raynor brilliantly capitalized on with his design. The boat then pulls up to the pier and a brief ride gets us to the clubhouse. Rolling a few on the putting green, one can see the First and Eighteenth while off to the side, rocky coastline splays beyond. The journey starts at that First tee and walking the inland grassy corridor. It takes a few holes to reach the sea, the Third green. The Fourth and Fifth are the one-two punch where the course lets you know greatness lies within. Then the Sixth, which shows off the craggy abrupt hills until finally coming down to the sea at the Seventh green and then the largely unheralded Road hole at the Eighth. The Ninth might be my favorite of the course, climbing a steep ridge at the tee then crashing down to the seaside green. I checked my original review and yes, the Ninth is indeed listed as my favorite. The waves of terrain start rolling in with the back nine, the Knoll Tenth kicking things off, the green perched high above. The Eden next, its green on a promontory of sorts, before heading some what inland once again. Waves of terrain heave, reside and well, sound their barbaric yawp. The Thirteenth the same, until we reach the wetlands where the green resides. Some may take issue with the Fourteenth and Fifteenth, the former doing what it can to hold on amidst climate change and the latter lengthening out and straight. Individualism over perfection, always. I wouldn’t dare let such trivialities interfere with my time here. Instead, I embrace it. Another Robin Williams movie is instructive here, “Good Will Hunting.” Robin: “People call these things “imperfections,” but they’re not. That’s the good stuff . . . You’re not perfect, sport. And let me save you the suspense. This girl you met, she isn’t perfect either. But the question is whether or not you’re perfect for each other. That’s the whole deal.” To wit, the course is perfect for me and that is what matters after all. The final par 3 at the Sixteenth, the Short, hidden as if an oasis, then back to the wide open land at the Seventeenth and Eighteenth. We roam on the island grass as the wind oversees it all. The clubhouse likewise stands sentinel, watching as we close out the round, the sea with its symphonies, crashes and white whispers close at hand in the distance.

The land is beautiful poetry exuding brilliant golf. As great courses seem to do organically, there’s a symbioism here where the design elevates the heavenly secluded beauty of the place. Green site selection and routing are extraordinary as are the greens and fairway shaping. What I realized more this time around was the brilliance in the lack of fairway bunkers. They are not needed and are not missed. And no irrigation, as it should be. The course is what nature gives. This time around found much lusher conditions than the prior, a rather wet summer the reason. The structure of play bends and changes like a chameleon, a unique set of holes each time the golfer steps up.

Mostly, however, the Redux at Fishers was reaffirmation. Reaffirmation that there are places in this world that make you feel alive. What better way to portray our game. Alongside places such as Eastward Ho!, Sand Hills, The Creek and Pacific Dunes, Fishers stirs the human spirit with its inspirational natural beauty that seeps into the fabric of play. The visuals are pleasing to gaze upon yet the places mentioned above go well beyond views. These places instill the power of its surrounds into each shot so that the golfer feels all of its complexities, its romance, its character and yes, its individuality. The existential mysteries of the world and heavens seem to open for a spell and in those brief moments, the golfer indeed has no choice but to feel meaningfully alive. That was the Redux round. Yet another chance to capture that spirit in one of the most rewarding places a golfer has the opportunity to sojourn.

I do see I forgot to rank the back nine holes in the original review. Thank God for the Redux. My ranking of them is 12, 10, 11, 14, 13, 18, 17, 16, 15.

I wanted to but did not. Maybe next time, I so wanted to address the guy piloting our boat as, O Captain! My Captain!