I now have a caddie bib with my license in the little clear plastic pocket over my heart showing a picture of me in my wool cap. And if you stand back a little ways and don’t look too carefully, I think Colleen is right. I pass for a man in his late forties. I am a caddie licensed for this 2010 season by the Links Trust, the organization that manages the seven courses for the people of St. Andrews. They are public courses, owned by the people. The first caddies worked here 222 years ago.
The rain has returned, and the wind is howling again tonight. An hour ago the sky was clear, and I saw the North Star pierced with light. From where I am sitting in the Chariots pub, forty paces from the 18th green of the Old Course, I can see the caddie pavilion, where I met the caddie master and promised him I would never say no to a loop if he needed me. “I’ll be here as early as you want me in the morning, and I’ll work until dark,” I told him. I also told him that if I couldn’t keep up with the younger boys, I would be honest enough to step aside. I looked him right in the eye when I told him this, and I believe he understood exactly what I was saying. Maybe he saw that I was a little afraid, because just before he turned away he said to me, “You’ll be all right.”
I will be starting out up on the cliff, joining a group of twenty-five caddies that includes Glen at the Castle Course, on April 1, which means I have ten days or so to get my legs working and to familiarize myself with the ground up there.