The strangest profession

For one thing, it’s weather dependent, and thus as predictably reliable as farming and fishing when it comes to day-to-day work conditions. I was reminded of this recently during a course restoration project I’m involved with: When we started in August, we sweated through days in the high 90s; temperatures in late January reached 13 degrees, the wind howled at 30 miles per hour and we could only watch helplessly as the sod strips began to curl up.

Superintendents must deal with such variance as a matter of course, timing as best they can their spraying schedules, aerification programs and irrigation cycles. Weather is notoriously temperamental and unreliable. Unfortunately, golfers are, by nature, amnesiacs when it comes to expectations about turfgrass quality and expect things to be ideal out there regardless of drought or yesterday’s rainstorms.

Not only is the weather changing all the time, but also longer-term developments like climate change have had a dramatic effect. The golf season is longer in the North and Midwest, and in the Southwest water availability has become a major concern.

Up where I live, in Connecticut, we’ve had 4 inches of snow all winter — a tenth of “normal coverage,” whatever that means. Not only is it likely the ground will be desiccated by April, but courses have opened in mid-February while still short-staffed due to labor schedules. Most aren’t budgeted for expanded crews until mid-March.

It doesn’t help to cultivate a routine when employees are, increasingly, hard to find, train and retain.

The virtual elimination of the caddie ranks as a recruitment path into the game has meant that seasonal laborers (and even full-time help these days) are drawn from the ranks of those with no early experience in golf. All it takes is a look at some wacky tee alignments or hole locations to realize the kinds of headaches this causes for course setup and for superintendents hoping to entrust their crews with initiative.

And then there are the hours — what the trade up North calls “100 days of hell,” roughly early June through mid-September, combining heat, extended daylight, crowded course conditions and a relentless golf calendar. Handheld irrigation controllers help things but getting away for a day — much less a week or even a weekend with the family — gets very difficult given the volatile combinations of expectations and professional pride. And, of course, there is always some nervousness when faced, as most superintendents are, with an aging pump or leaky valve that can give way on the eve of the club championship.

It would help, as well, if the people greenkeepers reported to had a more highly refined understanding of what it takes to keep a golf course going. Sadly, that is not often enough the case. Even when the green committee chair and golf pro are enlightened enough to provide insulation from everyday golfers, the financial pressures of most club operations mandate delivery of a quality turfgrass product without excuses or explanations.

In an era when elite top-100 courses get so much attention on social media and TV, it’s easy to forget that private-membership clubs comprise a minority of the facility supply. Only about 27 percent of U.S. courses are private clubs. The vast majority are in the public domain, whether as resorts, privately owned daily-fees or municipal tracts.

This is the most vulnerable, overworked and underpaid sector of the industry — and it forms three-quarters of the workforce. Vulnerable, because they generally lack a protective layer of boards, committees and long-term members vested in the course. Overworked, because they are generally understaffed, dealing with an aging infrastructure and faced with a public that plays early and late in the day. And underpaid because budgets are lacking.

A wizened superintendent with whom I regularly talk told me recently that “everyone in the business over 50 years of age is trying to get out.” He was, of course, exaggerating, but only to a degree. It is a strange profession: exhausting, difficult and getting more demanding.

There are many emotional rewards in the trade. And there is the considerable joy of not being confined to four walls and to have nature as your office. I would also not underestimate the degree to which collegiality helps sustain people — to an extent that is unusual among technically savvy professionals. That and salary provide considerable compensation. But it’s still a very strange business.