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“Can you block my husband from seeing this story? His expectations for our son will grow to an unhealthy level.”
“Safe to say this kid’s college is gonna be a free ride.”
“I’ve watched this 27 times. Pure.”
“OMG.”
“That’s the hip movement I need! Does he give lessons?”

Those were the first five comments on Instagram when I posted a video of Jack’s swing during our round together at Sewanee two weeks ago. 

I felt the same way when I first saw his swing, and this even dates back several years. To try and remember when I was first impressed, I scrolled back on Jack’s mom’s Instagram and found a post from when he was barely three-years-old. One comment on that post was from Jack’s parents’ best friend, Jay, saying, “Swing looks better than mine.”

Although it’s this five-year-old’s swing that first catches your attention, what left me inspired after pairing up with Jack for nine holes moved me much deeper.

A Brief Rewind

Jack is the oldest son of Joseph and Palmer, both of whom I met back in 2010. My college roommate, Clayton, was childhood best friends with Joseph in Memphis, where they better forged their relationship in the halls of White Station High School. Clayton went on to Tennessee, where he and I met, and Joseph attended Vanderbilt, the only SEC school that you can forget exists while living 10 minutes from their campus.

Just making sure my Vandy friends are paying attention.

Speaking of Vandy friends, most of them were made through Joseph during a weekend trip to Vanderbilt’s Rites of Spring, an annual music festival held on campus featuring well-known musical acts. To time stamp this weekend in 2010, a young Drake headlined, performing songs off of his 2009 So Far Gone mixtape like “Best I Ever Had” and “Successful,” and a young Jeremy consumed alcohol like the world was ending. In my defense, I was only off by about 10 years, apparently.

When you meet Joseph, you feel like you’ve known him for years. Whether it’s over sports, pop culture, politics, or when to play an immunity idol on Survivor, Joseph can find a way to connect with anyone. Then he has a way of connecting you with his network of friends, just like he did for me in 2010. I arrived in Nashville that weekend only knowing Clayton, but I returned to Knoxville with five or six legitimate friends. When I moved to Nashville in 2014, knowing that crew was in town helped quell some of my anxiety. In present day, we all play fantasy football together, and a few of those same guys are in an overly-active golf group text with me—both formed by Joseph.

When I think about Jack’s golfing life ahead, I’m reminded of how big of a cheerleader Joseph has been in my life. He champions all of my creative endeavors, like when I did a t-shirt campaign to raise money for the Smoky Mountain wildfires, or when I used to write recaps of a certain Monday night reality show on ABC for a website we both contributed to—more on that another time, maybe—and there’s a good chance that you’re reading this right now because he shared this post too. Safe to assume that Jack will have the support he needs.

Admittedly, I don’t see Joseph near as much as I’d like—maybe it’s the phases of life we’re in, or that’s just part of getting older—but we still communicate regularly through text and social media, because we are millennials after all. But when I saw that Jack had really gotten into golf the past six months, I knew that would be an easy avenue to bring us together, even during the pandemic.

Now, back to my youngest pairing yet.

The Sneds Tour

“Do you ever watch golf on TV?” Joseph heard Jack ask his cousin, Walter, in the backseat of his car on the eve of their first Sneds Tour event.

“No,” Walter said.

“Well, you need to. Just watch it and do what they do. That’s what I do,” Jack responded.

This Spring, Jack started playing his first competitive golf tournaments as part of the Sneds Tour, a junior golf program in Tennessee created by nine-time PGA TOUR winner Brandt Snedeker in coordination with the Tennessee Golf Foundation. At five-years-old, Jack is in the youngest age division, 5 to 7, and Brandt has a son in the same group.

While 5-to-7-year-olds competing in a golf tournament might sound harder to watch than your nephew’s first basketball game where you just hope someone grazes the rim, the Sneds Tour is no joke. The parents caddie for the kids, they announce their names on the first tee, and they even have detailed tournament results online, including hole-by-hole scoring, meaning they count every stroke and follow all rules.

Jack had played his first few tournaments prior to our round at Sewanee, and it really showed from the moment we met in the parking lot.

Now on the Tee, Jack Williams

Joseph and Palmer had taken their three boys for a weekend getaway to a resort in northern Georgia, so on their way back home to Nashville we decided to meet each other at Sewanee. Jack’s grandfather, Buddy (Palmer’s Dad), also joined us for the round. He’s the teaching pro at Vanderbilt Legends Club, a private country club in the suburbs of Nashville.

The moment Joseph pulled in the parking lot, Jack hopped out with his pastel-striped collared shirt tucked into khaki shorts, his Sneds Tour hat on, and his golf glove secured tightly on his left hand, ready to go. It was as if he was dressed like a professional golfer for Halloween, and he completely fit the bill.

I was reminded of the last time I saw Jack a month prior on my way home from Sweetens Cove. I dropped off some merchandise for Joseph, and while talking on his front porch, Jack said, “I have a surprise, but it’s going to take me three minutes.” After disappearing into the house for what was an accurately-advertised three minutes, Jack reappeared in a full Newsies outfit—his latest Disney+ movie obsession of the week. A couple weeks before he was Henry Rowengartner from Rookie of the Year. Other times he is Davy Crockett with the coonskin cap, and if all else fails he has a deep rotation of superhero costumes.

But the one costume Jack can’t remove is his infectious spirit.

He can hardly wait to hit each shot, and this was evident when we pulled up to the first hole, a 530-yard par five. Jack hopped out of his cart ready to hit, while Joseph had to tell him that he’d take him further up in the fairway to tee off. Up ahead in the fairway, he had a six-person gallery for his opening tee shot—his parents, two brothers (Henry and Teddy), his grandfather, and me—and he didn’t disappoint. After two practice swings and a proper alignment check, Jack hit a beauty right down the middle, and away we went.

He played down the hill to the first green, carefully avoiding a bunker the size of 100 Jacks, and then he battled the uphill slope at the second. After a good shot we’d all say, “Great shot, Jack,” and he’d raise his hands in the air out of pure excitement before quickly returning his club to the bag and asking which one he should use next. 

As we approached the third green, my head was spinning from watching Jack’s beautiful swing. I had recently spent a couple of days on the range trying to get my hips turned more towards the target at impact, and in watching him I realized he had that down better than me. Most kids his age hold a golf club like a hockey stick and swing it like they’re drilling for oil, but Jack’s swing is poetry in motion, and you can’t help but feel as if you’re watching two-year-old Tiger hit shots on the Mike Douglas Show with Bob Hope, or a young Rory McIlroy chip into a washing machine. As I was about to ask how he learned it, Jack said, “This is my favorite hole.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

He stood flat footed, looking like he had just seen a ghost, and whispered, “That,” pointing forward at the infinity-edge third green that looks down upon a rolling green terrain of mountains underneath a blue sky.

Jack was more interested in the mountain views than talking about his swing—and rightly so—but the person who might be responsible for it was in our pairing.

Not Your Average Grandfather

If you ever needed to find Jack’s grandfather, Buddy, during our round, all you had to do was look in the middle of the fairway. At 68, Buddy still has some serious game, but golf wasn’t his first love.

Born and raised in Nashville, Buddy devoted most of his time to baseball. His high school team won the state championship, and then his college team, Lipscomb University, went to the NAIA World Series three times in four years. 

By the way, Jack’s other main sports interest? Baseball, where just last week he had a little league game in the evening after playing in a golf tournament that morning.

After coaching baseball for a few years after college, Buddy decided to get serious about golf at age 25, moving to Miami to be an Assistant Pro. You’ll be on the move quite a bit in that line of work, and golf took Buddy to multiple places in Florida, back to Nashville to coach Lipscomb’s men’s and women’s golf teams, then to Kentucky for a while to teach, and eventually back to Nashville where he lives and teaches golf today—Jack being his youngest student.

Buddy felt his game improving at each stop, so after turning 50 he started playing Monday Qualifiers on the Champions Tour, making it into around 15 events in three or four years. His excellent play took him as far as the PGA Championship at Hazeltine in 2004, two US Senior Opens, and two Senior Open Championships in Scotland at Troon and Turnberry.

So maybe the golf gene was in Jack’s DNA at birth.

But even with all of the great golf Buddy has seen in his life, we were all treated to an unbelievable moment on the seventh green.

In Your Life

Whether you’ve played in major championships or if you’re in the Sneds Tour’s youngest division, putting can make or break your score. For Jack, this was the area of his game that needed the most improvement, according to Joseph.

Even if he would get his shot on the green in three or four shots, it could be just as many shots right around the hole. A three-foot putt would zoom past the hole leaving a six-foot putt coming back, causing your heart to melt for him.

So on the seventh green, Jack hit his approach shot about 40 feet passed the pin, leaving him with a downhill putt that would require excellent pace. Like a good golf content creator (sarcasm intended), I reached for my phone to film it just in case we had some fireworks. Jack lined up the putt and sent it towards the hole, with each foot of ground covered you could tell there was only one place it was going to end up. As it slowed to a crawl we all froze and looked on like a Last Supper painting, and when it dropped in the cup we screamed in disbelief as Jack threw both hands in the air. It was the best shot of his young life, and one that we talked about the rest of the week.

fresh eyes

After eating lunch on the patio and saying our goodbyes, I was inspired by my time with Jack and company.

Was it from marveling at his swing for 2 hours? No—but that certainly was stunning to watch, and I’ve rewatched a slow-mo video I posted more times than I’d like to admit, maybe you have too. But at age five, you don’t care about the clubs, your outfit, the course design, you aren’t drowning in swing thoughts, and you have very little scar tissue from previous outings. You just want to play, and that’s what Jack did. He raised his hands in the air at the good shots—like the 40ft BOMB he made—and he didn’t seem to care about the bad ones.

But really, at his age, there’s so much newness in his life, and especially with golf. Every chip around the green could be the first time he’s ever chipped in, and that putt he made on number seven is probably the longest one he’s ever made. Each new hole comes with so much newness and possibility that he hardly ever walks in between shots, but rather he sprints Sergio-style, yet in a cute kid way—almost like he’s hovering. Watching him run from shot to shot made me realize how tired my golf eyes or perspective around the game can get, and if we’re being honest, it made me analyze where else in my life my eyes are really tired and need to see some newness that would make me want to sprint with excitement.

Luckily for golfers, we are presented with an opportunity for newness every time we show up at the course, and that comes in the form of a stranger. We get to decide if we want to do our same old routine at the same course, or play with a stranger, get to know them, and listen to their story. What I’ve found is that doing this at a course you’ve played a million times brings it to life in a whole new way.

For instance, last Sunday at my local muni, a course I’ve played countless times, I paired up with a guy named Sterling who just moved to Nashville a month ago. On the first hole he told me about his hometown of Sandwich, IL. By hole 3 he told me that he works in sales for a company that sells infectious disease tests—you can guess what we talked about—and by the last hole he told me about how he is going home in a few weeks to renovate his mom’s house to sell it, which is a tall order because his father, who passed two years ago, was a hoarder so they’re still trying to comb through mountains of newspapers, loose trinkets, and anything imaginable. 

That unplanned connection with Sterling brought that round to life that evening in a way that playing by myself with a podcast in my headphones could never match.

But, back to my youngest playing partner yet—Jack wasn’t a stranger to me, this was my first time playing with him, and watching his infectious enthusiasm cause him to scamper from shot to shot presented Sewanee in a completely different form than I had seen it in my 10+ previous trips. Hole seven wasn’t just a dogleg-left par 4 with trouble all up the left side, but rather it was the hole where Jack made a 40-foot putt and couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face.

I know which description of hole seven I’ll remember much longer.

Just like the golden hour sun reveals the topography of land that looked flat during the mid-day sun, Jack casted his rays of fresh perspective on our day at Sewanee, exposing the pure joy in playing golf.

For that, I thank him.

Now, back to watching videos of his swing.

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For more photos and videos, hop over to @pairedupgolf on Instagram and Twitter.

My guest this week on the Paired Up Story Hour is Jim Hartsell! I met Jim last year at Sweetens Cove Golf Club, where he is a longtime member, and he has become a great golf confidant of mine ever since. Whenever I have a hankering for a trip to Sweetens I always shoot Jim a text to see if he’ll be around. “That ‘hankering’ seems to happen every weekend,” says those who follow me on social media. You’re not wrong!

In this week’s video, Jim tells a touching story about a random pairing at Royal Dornoch in Scotland back in 1997. After 18 holes, Jim’s group decided to stay inside due to horrific weather during their morning round, but Jim decided to head back out to the golf course. In doing so, he met Alan, the only other golfer on the property. When you listen to Jim talk about Alan, you’ll see why this day has stuck with him for over 30 years.

Enjoy!

Subscribe to Paired Up on YouTube

Welcome to a new series on Paired Up called “Paired Up Story Hour: Random Pairing Tales.” This series will feature stories from friends of Paired Up about a random golf pairing that left an impact on them, for better or worse. My plan is to keep these in the 10-15 minute range, but we’ll see how that plays out.

You’ll find the video above, but feel free to hop over to YouTube as well to the Paired Up Golf channel. I started the channel today to have a place to post these. I never really planned to do much video work with Paired Up early on that would require the need for a channel, but since I’m a millennial without a TikTok I must, by law, have a YouTube channel. Subscribe if you’d like, but I’ll push that more in the future if/when I do more with video.

Now, to today’s story.

Boston resident, Robbie Vogel, takes us to a nightmare pairing he had at a corporate outing at Myopia Hunt Club. Rangefinder drama, a runaway golf cart, and redemption a year later—this story has it all. Share with your friends who you think would dig it, and give me a shout if you have a great random pairing story to share.

Enjoy!

Golf is a mental game.

Whether it’s a three-foot putt to beat your career low, or hitting a fairway with water on the side of your usual miss, the game offers mental tests around every corner.

But the greatest mental test of all is not judging your random playing partner at first glance… especially by their outfit.

On a daylight-chasing nine last week at my local muni, this mental test was in full effect when I caught up to Jamison on the second tee box. He wore paint-stained khaki joggers, long socks, a cut-off sleeveless shirt, and a headband that looked awfully similar to one of his missing shirt sleeves. His outfit looked better suited for a tribal council on Survivor than the golf course. Knowing that there’s always more going on than meets the eye, I decided to hear his story… before the tribe had spoken.

Growing up in the Nashville area, Jamison’s main interest was football. “I got a scholarship to play at Navy, but my ACT score was literally one point below their requirement, so I went to Western Kentucky instead,” he told me. During his sophomore season at wide receiver he took a hit on a pass over the middle that separated his C-4 and C-5 in his neck, ending his football career on the spot. “My whole right side went numb from my neck to my lower back, my fingers were tingly, and I was in traction therapy for like two straight days.” WKU kept him on scholarship as a student assistant coach, and then hired him as an offensive assistant for a few years after he graduated. In 2010 he decided to move back home and start his construction company, which he successfully runs today. “I drove here from a job site, so I don’t usually dress like a buffoon,” he said with a smile, putting me at ease. His game also showed me that he wasn’t screwing around.

When did golf enter the picture?

“I really started to dial it in about three years ago. I took one lesson with Vandy’s swing coach, and man, I’m absolutely hooked,” Jamison said. I was impressed to hear he started so recently because he has a smooth, effortless game, even telling me that his career low was a 63 (!) shot earlier this year at a tough course in Nashville.

“Nobody in my family played. I was an only child, and my parents were divorced. My dad has been in construction for 30-something years, wears overalls everyday, from Portland, Tennessee—he’s as country as the day is long,” he said with a laugh. “My mom played basketball at MTSU, but no golf in the family. My great uncle took me to play golf for the first time when I was 13, actually. I loved it, and I still love it—it’s my favorite past time—but now I really want to start playing competitively.”

Stand on one tee box with Jamison and you’ll feel how much he loves the game as he talks through things he’s changing with his swing, new equipment he’s testing, and even details on why he prefers a certain line of Titleist golf balls. But to realize his passion for golf, look no further than his Nashville Metro Membership numbers.

The city of Nashville Parks and Rec offer a $570/year membership that is good for any of their five municipal courses. Pay that fee at the beginning of the year and you can play as much as you’d like. To walk nine holes is $13, but to take a cart—which Jamison prefers—is $19 for nine holes. To break even he would need to play 30 nine-hole rounds with a cart.

“I just got my report back from the Metro Membership this year,” he said.

“Did you break even?” I asked.

“Uh, yeah. It said I actually saved over $1300 for the year,” he said with a chuckle. “So I guess I’ve played about $1900 worth of golf at the metro courses this year.”

Roughly 100 rounds through September 19th… and you thought your golf addiction was out of control.

Jamison also took his passion for the game on the road last year to places like Torrey Pines, TPC Boston, and Worcester Country Club—one of the oldest private clubs in the country. He can’t wait to get out of town and explore even more next year, he told me.

There are many things I love about golf—the courses, the feeling of a well-struck shot, being outdoors, traveling to new places—and I’ll get lost on a daydream about these things many times throughout the day. “I wonder when I can book my first trip to Bandon Dunes,” I’ll think, or “Man, that five iron I hit last week into number sixteen felt so good.”

But then I realize that a round of golf with a random pairing wearing construction clothes and a makeshift headband is where the heart of golf beats the loudest for me. These people—regardless of their attire—and their stories are always just down the street at your local muni.

Thank you, Jamison, for reminding me that what I love about golf is always just a 12-minute drive from my house.

“In Scotland, they have a different outlook than we do. They’re more relaxed, and it’s just a different lifestyle. Golf is more of a way of life there. That dinner was one of the best nights of my life. We talked about golf, politics, art—everything. Stuff we don’t seem to do as much here, which is disappointing.”

What do you think of when you hear the word curator?

I think of the tour guides I’ve had at museums or historic buildings, particularly the guide I had at the Guinness factory back in 2011. My family and I knew that the tour ended at the top of the building in The Gravity Bar, a place with glass walls where you could enjoy a Guinness with amazing views of Dublin. Our guide, however, wasn’t going to let us reach the top until she told us every last detail about Guinness.

What I remember most about this—besides being a 21-year-old desperate to get upstairs for a beer—was how excited she was about each stop on the tour. She told us the details of the lease on the property with more excitement than your friend would have telling their engagement story.

I left this tour feeling more excited about Guinness than I knew I was capable of, all thanks to the enthusiastic curator that guided us through the building. These are the kind of people that are energizing to be around—someone who really cares about something.

Jim Hartsell belongs in this category too, as I would find out when we were Paired Up on a rainy day at Sweetens Cove.

In Need of a Refuel

As mentioned in my previous post, I had spent most of my spring chasing numbers, only worrying about posting good scores leading up to my annual buddies trip. This left me feeling empty, forgetting what I love most about playing golf: the people. The people are why I started this project, and a show in Knoxville reminded me of that, but I still needed to take care of one more issue, which was getting my golf fuel tank off E and back to full.

If there’s one place I always leave feeling better about golf than when I arrived, it’s Sweetens Cove Golf Club in South Pittsburg, TN. Trips to Sweetens have introduced me to so many new golf friends, whether it be the architect Rob Collins, Nash Pater the GM, or Trey Moon, a long-time member and new friend I have played a few times with now. So I sent out an all-call on social media that I was headed to Sweetens the next day—tagging Nash and Trey to apply some positive peer pressure—and Jim Hartsell responded that he’d be there with his son, Jake.

I had only briefly met Jim one time previously at Sweetens Cove, but I knew he’s someone I wanted to play with. We have followed each other on social media for a bit, but wanting to learn more about Jim, I hopped in the car on a Sunday morning and made the hour-and-a-half drive from Nashville to South Pittsburg wondering if a round with Jim could cure my golf blues.

Everything Has a Meaning

“There’s Jimbo. He’s probably giving the shop a few more dollars,” Trey told me as we stood on the first tee box, looking back towards the shed. Jim approached us moments later carrying a yellow head cover with the Sweetens road sign logo on it in a repeating pattern.

“Nash got me with the Open Championship yellow,” Jim said. I should’ve known that if a curator had a yellow head cover then it couldn’t be “yellow” for no reason, it was “Open Championship yellow.” In fact, everything about his entire presentation had a meaning.

Jim wore a salmon colored Sweetens Cove golf shirt with a matching logo on his hat, both pointing to his love and admiration for his home course. His bag is a MacKenzie waxed canvas walker, custom made for him from an event held at Sweetens Cove last fall. Peek inside his bag and you’ll find three head covers—the before mentioned Open Championship yellow one, a custom-made one from The Ringer (same event from his bag), and a Scottish plaid one—and if you look hard enough you’ll even see “BAMA” stamped on his sand wedge to honor his Crimson Tide. He has put thought into every square inch of his bag, even down to his No Laying Up towels, tees, and golf balls that NLU sent him after they struck up a friendship through The Ringer event. Every piece had a meaning.

Would you expect any less attention to detail from a curator at your favorite art exhibit?

Jim really cares about golf, and that is apparent from the moment you meet him.

With a large group teeing off of number one, Trey, Jim, Jake, and I walked over to number 7 to start there instead—because a good curator can start the tour in any section of the museum without missing a beat. On the walk over I wondered who Jim was and how he cultivated his love for the game.

Fore Please, Jim Hartsell Now Driving

Originally from Birmingham, Jim’s family moved when he was in high school to Hartselle, Alabama, a town of about 15,000 people near Huntsville, Alabama. The town was named for his family and was originally called Hartsell Station in the 1880s. “When the first post office was built, they added an ‘e’ for some reason, and that spelling was adopted by a lot of people. It was originally named after George Hartsell in 1870 when the train station was built, and he ran the first train station, as I understand,” he told me.

Much of Jim’s childhood was spent on the golf course, eventually leading him to play for Hartselle High School’s golf team, where his dream of winning a State title was squashed during his senior season in 1985. “We won sectionals to qualify for State. One of our guys inadvertently signed an incorrect card and we had to count an 87 instead of his 78. We dropped to third place, and the top two teams went to State,” Jim said. “Ironically, exactly 30 years later my youngest son (of three) was on the first Hartselle High boys golf team to with the State Championship.”

Always having a love for art and geometry, Jim studied architecture at Mississippi State, and has worked for a firm in Birmingham since, making the commute daily from Hartselle. “The architecture school is a nightmare, they try to run you off the first year, but I stuck with it and I’ve been doing it for 25 years now.”

Does his eye for design translate to golf?

“I do look at places differently. You look at some places where they have the clubhouse in the perfect spot, like Shinnecock, it really adds to the course.” What’s the perfect spot? “Up on the hill where you can see almost the entire golf course. The best ones in Scotland are where you can sit at the bar or have a sandwich and you can basically see everything.”

Along with architecture, Jim’s other creative ventures include writing, photography, and he does most of the cooking for his family at home, often on his Big Green Egg. Jim’s eye for photography comes from his architecture background, and a quick scroll through his social media will reveal hundreds of breathtaking photos, especially from Sweetens Cove. His love for writing was also born from the architecture realm.

“I’ve always done a lot of the writing for our office, and I’ve always enjoyed it,” he said. “I decided to start a blog a year and a half ago, and I’ve met some people through that who have read some of the stuff. It’s fun, and it’s something I really enjoy.”

Jim is not just a curator, but a creator as well.

On his blog you’ll see that his creations come from a place of love for curating, as a lot of Jim’s writing takes you back in time, acting as a tour guide to golf’s past. The topics of his most recent posts include the 1986 Masters, a lost links course on the coast of Alabama, the Quarto Bookshop in St. Andrews, and his favorite holes from a trip to Scotland.

In fact, most golf conversations with Jim end with him referencing Scotland, the Home of Golf.

Scotland State of Mind

If there’s one place on Earth that feels like a living and breathing golf museum, it’s Scotland. Jim and his son, Jake, recently got back from a trip to Scotland, which was Jim’s fifth trip and Jake’s first. Jim’s previous four trips were with his dad, but this time Jim decided to pass the Scotland fascination down to the next generation of Hartsells. On this trip they didn’t fight for tee times at the most famous Open Championship venues, but like a crafty curator, they sought out courses off the beaten path, and a ton of golf ensued.

“How many holes did you play?” I asked, thinking it might be a simple answer.

“I couldn’t even guess, but my fitness tracker said we walked 102 miles while playing,” he said.

102! Just about four marathons worth of golf.

When you love golf this much, you attract other golf nuts (said affectionately). Through posting his itinerary on social media, Jim was able to meet some new playing partners turned new friends, from across the pond.

“We played with a guy named Adam Duncan in a one-day tournament called an Open competition. That was a hard course and he was a member, so we would’ve been lost without him.

Then we played at Machrihanish Dunes with Hugh Sinclair—he has been a member there his whole life, and he’s a character. Jake and I played Hugh and his buddy Hamish in a match. We won the last two holes to tie.

We met another person from social media that goes by Links Robbie, and he’s the best guy. He works for the Scottish National Trust and goes around to all of these castle ruins and takes care of them.”

“What a job,” Jake added as we stood on the fourth tee.

“He puts these pictures on Instagram that are incredible. We played Dunaverty Golf Club with him and had a blast.”

The links-style golf in Scotland has always held a special place in Jim’s heart. “When I was a kid I was fascinated with the British Open and remember watching it with my dad when it would come on tape delayed back then at like 3 P.M., but you didn’t know who won because there was no internet back then.”

While loving golf history, Jim isn’t stuck in the past, but he makes sure we don’t forget it, because he knows that the fix for a lot of golf’s problems could be found in the rearview mirror.

Problems in Golf

As much as Jim’s love of golf reverberates around him, there’s a certain undercurrent of frustration in the way he talks about modern American golf. Feeling this frustration, I asked him what was most broken in golf.

“The private aspect of American golf… I cannot stand,” he said. “I’ve been invited to a lot of these places, and if someone invited me to National Golf Links tomorrow I’d take off work and go. But the fact that these places don’t let visitors play even one or two days a week, especially when there are no members there during the middle of the week. Donate the money to charity or something. When I go to Scotland and see how a normal person can play anywhere—as long as you call or maybe write them a letter—it’s great. These places in America could charge whatever they wanted on a Tuesday and people would pay it—just make them somewhat accessible. Think about how much it would do for golf if Chicago Golf Club or Cypress Point let non-members play on occasion.”

The modern American system is even more frustrating to Jim because he has seen first hand how well the UK model works.

“That’s why Scotland has it right,” he continued. “They have these community courses that the towns are centered around, and it doesn’t cost that much and they play fast. Plus, it’s all about the community aspect. In fact, Hugh Sinclair (pairing in Scotland) invited us over to eat at his house the night we played together.”

Are you more likely to get invited over for dinner by a random pairing in America or Scotland?

“Scotland, 100%. 500%,” he said emphatically. “They have a different outlook than we do. They’re more relaxed, and it’s just a different lifestyle. Golf is more of a way of life there. That dinner was one of the best nights of my life. We talked about golf, politics, art—everything. Stuff we don’t seem to do as much here, which is disappointing.”

He’s right. If someone invited me over for dinner after golf at my local muni my first thought would be that this is how a Dateline episode starts, and I’d hear Keith Morrison’s voice saying, “What started as an innocent round of golf ended in this man’s life getting ‘sliced’ out of bounds.”

In 2016, Jim found the stateside-antidote to his frustrations.

Enter Sweetens Cove

When Jim first stumbled upon Sweetens Cove, he saw minimalist golf, classic architecture, and a community feel with no over-priced marketing bullshit attached—like a little slice of Scotland tucked into the foothills of Appalachia—causing him to join as a member almost immediately.

Saying that Jim loves Sweetens Cove would be a gross understatement. When I asked him to ballpark how many rounds he has played there, he laughed and said it’s impossible. He makes the hour and a half drive there every weekend and plays an average of 36 holes per visit—sometimes more.

As we stood on the fifth hole—a fan favorite—I jokingly explained the hole to Trey as if it were his first time.

“This is Jim’s least favorite hole,” Trey said, “Just ask him.”

I turned and said to Jim, “You hate this hole, huh?”

“Can’t stand it, man,” he said with a grin. “I only commissioned an artist to do a painting of it.”

“He has it hanging right above his bed so that when he’s laying in bed at night he’s looking right up at it,” Trey said. “Some people have mirrors up there, but nope, Jim has #5 up there.” I’m only sort of sure he was joking… sort of.

However, the love between Jim and Sweetens is mutual.

On your next trip to Sweetens, take a look behind the third tee box and you’ll find the Jim Hartsell bench, newly constructed by the grounds crew to honor Jim. This was his first round seeing it, so as we finished number two he made his way over to take the inaugural seat. He asked for a picture on it with Trey, because a good curator finds more joy in sharing the experience.

The sharing, in fact, doesn’t stop there. Using a perfect combination of his curating and creating, Jim is currently writing a book about Sweetens Cove, and the story is safe in this curator’s hands.

“I’m working on a book about Sweetens that I’m really excited about. It’s going to be about how this place got started and the struggles Rob went through, all the way through to now having investors out here,” he said. Investors like Peyton Manning and Andy Roddick, also known as my childhood heros.

“What’s the title?” I asked.

“The Secret Home of Golf.”

“I’ve seen people call Sweetens that,” I said, “Who started it?”

“Me.”

Jim has found a place that feels like home, that feels right, that feels like the courses his younger self dreamed of while watching tape-delayed British Opens.

A Full Tank

Spending time with a curator always leaves me feeling inspired and energized because they care so much about their museum or exhibit. As golf’s curator, Jim’s museums are located all over the world, and after spending the morning with him at one of his favorites, I left feeling incredibly moved. Seeing Jim’s love and care for golf reminded me of how much I loved the game too, and without realizing it, my golf fuel tank was back on full. Spending time around people who absolutely love something will do that to you.

In fact, I even played nine more holes back in Nashville that evening.

Golf is better for having people like Jim carrying the banner and caring for it’s history.

If you cross paths with Jim Hartsell at Sweetens Cove, you’ll be better for it, too.

Congratulations to Ben Green, the winner of the Random Pairing Story Contest and an all-day free foursome to Sweetens Cove! His story “Faith in the Random Pairing” cuts right to the core of what Paired Up is all about—above all else, the people are what can make a round the most memorable if you take a minute to hear their story. Ben is new to the game, and his story is from his second random pairing ever. Come meet Marty and Phil, two guys who restored Ben’s faith in the community around golf!

This past August I began my golfing career, and what a ride it has been: I have already been on my first buddies trip, I have broken 100 (woot!), I have spent an amount of money that makes my wife nervous, and I have gotten to know some of my closest friends even better.

I have a very young track record with random parings. There is a muni course here in Chattanooga very close to my house, and only on two separate occasions I have gotten up and gone to the course to be randomly paired up.

The first pairing was not so great. The person I was paired up with was interesting. He was nearly 50 years older than me. He told me about his life growing up New Orleans, his father getting him into golf, and his cancer that has kept him in Chattanooga for the foreseeable future. All that being said, he really tried to correct my swing while we were playing, and if that has ever happened to you, you know how that can ruin your round. This really put me off to joining with other players.

This past weekend, however, I gave it another chance. I had a solo tee time, but when I got to the starter he asked if I would like to join the pair in front of me. I obliged out of guilt or fear of slowing people down behind me. I was paired up with Phil and Marty—two 55 year old men who have been playing together for over two decades. They are active members of the pushcart mafia, and their game could not have been more different than my first experience.

We all three shanked our first tee shots. I would say they just decided to not finish 6 of the 18 holes because they either hit a really bad shot and said, “Screw it,” or, they hit a really good shot and said, “Screw it.” We all celebrated the 20-foot putts that went in, and we celebrated Marty’s eagle putt. We laughed off Phil and my 3-putts that resulted in pars. I learned about how Phil was a kicker at the University of Tennessee and now does sports photography. I learned that Marty really didn’t care much for sharing about his work or life, but would love for me to try out his Ping driver that he was really proud of.

This was the kind of paring that restored my faith in the community around golf. This round can take up one of two spaces in my mind. I could hang my head and remember that I lost 9 golf balls, shooting a 96 with multiple triple bogies. Instead, I will look back on this round and think of Phil and Marty and how happy and excited they were at all times during the round. I will remember how willing they were to let me join. I will remember how they laughed off the bad ones, celebrated the good ones, and welcomed me as if I had been playing the same game with them for the past 20 years.

I now have faith in the random paring. I learned this weekend that there is immense possibility for new friendships on the links. Marty got my number after the round and has invited me to play sometime in the near future with him and Phil. Who knows, maybe I won’t need a random paring anymore.

To new friends.

Our final runner-up story also comes from The Happiest Place on Earth—Disney World. Quinn Virgil found himself with two random playing partners that were playing out of the same golf bag, but quickly learned to not judge a pairing by their bag. Thanks, Quinn!

I go to Disney World every year for spring break with my family. Last year I snuck out to play a quick round on the last day I was there. I was waiting at the first tee for the two people I was supposed to be playing with when I saw them drive up.

It looked like a mother and daughter, and they only had one set of clubs. I started to think negatively towards it. The set of clubs was the daughter’s, and the mom was going to be using them as well. We introduced ourselves, and then the mom went up to the forward tees and had a pretty nice shot.

The daughter—who was in college—came back where I was by the white tees, so I said, “You can tee off first.” She said she was going to be playing the back tees. She walked back there and pounded a drive way out there, so I decided I better go back and play those tees as well. I had a really good drive as well, but was still 5 yards shorter than her.

As I drove away I saw that she had an Ohio State golf bag and played on the Ohio State womens team. She ended up beating me by two strokes. She shot 38 and I shot 40, which is good for me. The mom played well, too.

I had a great time and learned not to judge when getting paired up. I learned that the daughter had been playing in a tournament there and was getting a round in before they left town. The mom didn’t bring her clubs because she was there to just watch her daughter’s tournament.

If she had her own set she would’ve probably beaten me as well.

Man, this one was so close to being the winner. Today on the site we have a tie for 2nd place, and both take place at Disney, because where else would a great random pairing happen? This story is from Joe Mayberry, who had a random pairing offer his medical services to Joe’s playing partner. Check out this hilarious story below!

Spring break trip with one of my coworkers, and we were playing the Disney resort courses in Orlando. On the first tee we meet our partners for they day and we immediately hit it off. They were BAD at golf and totally admitted it, but they played super fast and laughed and had a great time.

As we go along, the guy says to my playing partner, “What’s wrong with your neck? I’m a chiropractor and can tell you can’t turn your head to the left.” My playing partner was a former professional athlete and HATES the thought of a chiropractor. He brushed it off and said he slept wrong, but the truth was he had been complaining for three days about his neck and how bad it hurts.

We play on and the Doc says, “Let me adjust you, let me fix your neck, let me look,” and was very persistent. Now, we have no clue if this guy was a doctor, but he talked a good game. Finally my partner gives in and says, “F-it, if he kills me, he kills me.”

So the doctor puts my partner on the front of the cart and crawls through the window above the steering wheel and tells Jim (my partner) to relax, it’ll be fine.

As Jim begins talking the Doctor cranks on his neck and you could hear three absurdly loud pops and Jim let out the biggest groan/sigh I’ve ever heard. He sat there stunned and the doctor just starts laughing hysterically and asks him to move his neck.

It’s instantly better, and the doctor tells him to take some aspirin and a beer and he will be fine. Jim got in the cart and punched me in the arm and asked why I let him do it and what the hell was I thinking letting him almost get killed!

The rest of the round was great and we stayed in contact for a couple more months, but then the couple broke up and the rest is history. Jim and I still laugh about that to this day… and he still won’t go back to the chiropractor.

The 4th place story in our Random Pairing Story Contest belongs to Adam Taylor with “The Great Brake Quake.” Adam shows us how the combination of alcohol, a corporate outing, and squealing brakes of a golf cart still aren’t enough to defy Sir Isaac Newton’s First Law of Motion. Thank you for this, Adam! I’m still not sure how you didn’t lose your job.

Sir Isaac Newton’s first law of motion states that every object in a state of uniform motion will remain in that state of motion unless an external force acts on it.

Several years ago, I was in a sales support role at my previous job, and one of our larger customer outings was approaching. The sales director asked if I could go represent our company in the outing since he couldn’t attend, and I gladly jumped at the chance knowing that at this specific outing, they gave every participant a raffle ticket to be drawn for great prizes – everything from golf swag, gift cards, putters, wedges, woods, and drivers cool tech gifts like headphones, iPads, smart watches, and GPSs. Everyone walked away with something awesome.

When I got to the outing, I learned that I was paired with the guy who was in charge of purchasing all of the products that my company sold to them. This was a pretty important guy in our corporate relationship. We’ll call him James for anonymity’s sake. Now James was in fact a large dude. I would say he was 6’1” and about 350 lbs. James let me drive that afternoon and we had a great time. In a foursome of mid to high handicappers, we were just happy to be on the golf course and not be in our respective offices. Drinks were flowing and as they flowed, both my golfing abilities and golf cart driving abilities became slightly impaired. It was about that time in the day where you hear loud brake squeaks from around the course, and I came to the revelation that “Hey, that sounds like fun. We should definitely try that.”

So I tried it.

I gathered up some speed in the golf cart and slammed on the emergency brake. Apparently James was not adequately prepared for my shenanigans, and at that exact moment I was reminded of Sir Isaac Newton. My procurement counterpart and golfing partner James flew forward and knocked out the entire plastic windshield of the golf cart. The force of 350 lb James was so strong that he kept going and hit the pavement in front of where the golf cart had stopped. His lower legs were still dangling inside the cart, but most of James was outside of the cart. The external force of the ground had stopped James, and I was worried that it would also stop our business relationship. But luckily for me we had a good laugh after he dusted himself off. And that of course was directly after I had nearly soiled myself out of terror. By the end of the round, we’d all moved past “The Great Brake Quake of 2014” incident, but when I got back to my company the next day, my sales director laughed his head off.