On the front nine of the Mainlands Golf Course in Pinellas Park, three consecutive holes curve along the shoreline of a large and occasionally alligator-occupied pond. This placid, emerald-tinged body of water was dubbed Lake Harrell by a group of my golfing buddies a few years back, after I managed to put a golf ball into it from the tee boxes of all three holes. One right after the other. In a single round.
I started playing golf for the same reason most adult men take up the sport: My bosses got into it, and started ducking out a couple of hours early on nice days, and asked me if I played, and I lied. My bosses were cool, and I’ve never been competitive; getting pummeled mercilessly on the links was more than a fair trade for a late afternoon outside with some cold beers and good company.
A decade and a half later, I’m still a terrible golfer, and still totally cool with that. For me, it’s always been more about getting together with old friends and making new ones, getting what passes for exercise in my world, and having sweaty adult beverages under the sun.
All of which are epitomized by what has to be the smallest, least organized and most fun of all annual Bay area golf tournaments: The Beer Can Open.
We used to hold it on the weekend closest to co-founder/The Pretty Voices bassist Roger Peterson’s birthday in early June. As any golfer can tell you, however, playing a round in the afternoon on a June weekend can sometimes be about as pleasant as lying under a heat lamp while four weary sumo wrestlers stand over you and wring out their mawashis.
So for this year’s fifth installment, the Beer Can Open (and, presumably, Roger’s birthday) was moved up several weeks, and more than 20, erm, “athletes” gathered at Mainlands on the final Sunday in April.
The Beer Can Open begins when all the players have been randomly paired via the ancient, mystic rite of Pulling Old Bottle Caps From A Crown Royal Bag. The Beer Can Open ends when two sweaty, sunburned and probably slightly buzzed victors hoist the twin empty Heineken kegs we drank before the very first Beer Can Open. These trophies are spray-painted silver, emblazoned with the names of those champions who have come before, and are more beautiful than any chromed competitor’s silhouette that ever stood atop a nicely finished monolith of particle board.
This year, newcomers Jason Hutty and Danny Breckenridge came out on top after a tiebreaking one-hole playoff. Their names have been added to the trophies, and each player will proudly display his twin prize in the appropriately awe-inspiring setting of his choice for an entire year — until it starts to get hot again, and the text messages go out again, and we gather again as spring turns to summer once more.
I’ll probably never display an empty silver Heineken keg in my home. I’d have to be paired with Rory McIlroy to even have a shot at winning, and even then there’d be no guarantees. But I had some beers, some laughs and an absolute blast, as I do every year at the Beer Can Open.
And I only put one ball into Lake Harrell — which, for me, is pretty much a win.
This article appears in May 9-15, 2013.