David Loughrey has immersed himself in the world of the humble caddy at this year’s New Zealand Open at Millbrook in Arrowtown. These are his experiences.
At the New Zealand Open at Millbrook in Arrowtown, there is a car on a box in the middle of a pond.
You see it as you enter the facility, just before you get to the impressive tree-lined drive that sweeps into its luxurious surrounds.
I don't know how they think of these things, and I don't know how it got there, but you know you're somewhere really special when there's a car on a box in the middle of a pond.
Caddies pass this unusual water feature as they glide into Millbrook, as do service workers and golf professionals, celebrities and volunteers, the big guys with sledgehammers who erect the sponsors' hoardings and the well-dressed women with phones to their ears who may or may not be something to do with the media.
The golf itself does not start till tomorrow, but yesterday the joint was jumping.
People swished by in electric golf carts, and some, not a word of a lie, had chauffeurs.
On the course, the golfers were practising.
Gee, they're good.
From 130m away, they strike with their irons, the ball towers skyward and comes back to earth with the most pleasing thud on the soft soil and gentle grass, bounces and spins backwards and lands within a metre of the hole.
It looks so easy.
Certainly, some end up in long grass, but then their owners shoot through the trees and land on the apron of the green, just a good putt away from an excellent score.
They are awfully clever.
On the practice green, fit-looking men with golfing gloves hanging neatly out of their back right pockets have plunged golf tees into the soil in a line to practise hitting the ball straight.
They laugh and shout, and now and then they curse.
They tap the ball towards the hole and it rolls for a bit, then you either hear the hollow thud of success as it bounces against the bottom of the cup, or the awful silence of failure as it skirts the hole and rolls away to nestle just a little too far away for comfort.
The golfers swing their putters in fury and frustration, just stopping themselves from hurling them to the ground in rage. They shoot too long, then they shoot too short, and they get annoyed.
Even professionals do this - I watched them.
But every professional at the New Zealand Open will have with them the calming influence of a caddy.
At this year's open there are a full 184 caddies registered, men and women whom caddy master and Dunedin city councillor Andrew Whiley describes as having ''a range of golfing abilities''.
They range in ages from 14 to 75, and include one from as far away as Toronto, Canada, two from the United States and four from Australia.
And this week they will hoist the heavy bags of professionals and amateurs alike, and follow them around Millbrook and The Hills, replacing their divots, looking after their clubs and staying quietly in the background like a modern-day Bates from Downton Abbey, attentive, decent and thoughtful.
The Otago Daily Times will be among them, despite our lack of any relevant experience.
You might see us on the television, waiting near a copse of trees on green grass, framed by the harsher browns of the rock-studded Arrowtown hills, sentinels of calm in the competitive maelstrom of the biggest golf championship in New Zealand.
It starts tomorrow.
Let's go.
