Thursday, August 12, 2010

He's The Firestarter



In most rounds the biggest fear is: What if the beer-cart girl doesn't show soon? (Please read this to the tune of Firestarter in the clip below.)

But on a crackling, arrid, windy, summer day about six years ago at Poppy Ridge Golf in Livermore, Rean Dader's crisis was: What if I burn to death in a ring of fire that I started with my shot in tall, dry grass?

I had just recently met Rean when we drove an hour to the amazing course to strap it on against aged warriors Charlie "double socks" and David "the rudest man in golf." We were young and svelte then so Rean and I walked the course while the elder dudes galavanted in their cart. It had to have been about 95-degrees, with 25 mph winds and about 20-percent humidity. Or, what we call in California: Fire Weather.

The old dudes slapped their drives. I followed and split the fairway (uh, right.) Rean took a mighty cut and duffed one about 60 yards into the brown stuff in front of the tee box. The grass was taller than what you might find in an Oakland grow-house.

Rean, a stubborn Okie, would not reload on the 6th hole tee box at Merlot. Poppy has three 9 hole layouts with a wine theme, each named after, guess what, wine veriatals! The others being Zinfandel and Boone's Farm. No, Chardonnay.

I stood to the side slightly in front, looking ahead to spot his ball. Instead, I hear a "snap," like someone cracking a whip. I swivel my head and see Rean shaking his water bottle at little smoldering flames starting to leap near his legs. A spark from his club hitting a pebble must have caused it.

Soon, the flames encircled his waist and he had to run for it. He had gone down, down, down and the flames went higher. And it burned, burned, burned and became a ring of fire. Rean came and joined me as we tried to catch up to our partners. Groundskeepers saw the fire and tried to put it out with their hoses. Charlie just groused: "What took you guys so long?"

We finished out the hole at the same time the fire had spread and roared west down a hill towards the 7th hole on Merlot. Meanwhile, the course had activated every single sprinkler to try to fight the flames.

I recall the 7th hole so vividly because it might have been the only one I had parred in the round. Not only that, I hit all my shots through sprinklers and smoke. My 50-foot putt parted water on the green and sank into the hole for my miracle 4 on the 400 yard par four. Shades of Caddyshack.

The flames kept spreading west. The course crews had lost and had to call in the California Department of Forestry. I guess that about 20-acres burned. One CDF member suffered a sprained ankle on the hill.

We somehow kept playing. Charlie could care less about the inferno as it was slowing HIS round. Rean had turned white. At the turn he gave his name to course management. A few holes later he gave a statement to a CDF captain. Course management was sort of kissing his ass, letting slip that another golfer had been burned in a similar accident.

To this day we regret that Rean did not try to parlay the incident into free golf for life. We were just back there the other day and are proud to report the landscape is recovering but still slightly charred.

Poppy ranks as one of my favorite Bay Area spots. It is fun golf without too much pretense and has a fantastic range, short game area and putting greens. You can get mid-week rounds with a cart for about $50. Poppy Ridge, Feel The Burn.



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