The Craig Stadler story…
OK, I’ve mentioned here before that I used to be a bellman/valet parking attendant at the Inn at Spanish Bay, about 25 years ago. (Jesus, where does the time go?) It’s the sister hotel to the Lodge at Pebble Beach. During the AT&T Pro-Am, we’d get a bunch of pros, celebs, and media who’d stay with us.
Normal procedure when you check into our hotel, you pull up, an army of bellmen greet you, show you where registration is, hand you your valet parking ticket, and where your luggage will be going. Your golf clubs would either remain in your vehicle, stored in our bag storage, or sent up to the room if you insisted. (We hated that last, especially as it was often uncompensated. OTOH, slip the bellman a 10 or 20, and I’d witness one of our guys shining shoes and cleaning out clubfaces with a toothpick and cleaner.) But we touched the clubs, and the rest of your baggage. (First-time parents are the absolute f%#*ing worst on that score, incidentally.)
For the PGA guys, we got read the riot act by my supervisor. Do Not Touch The Clubs. (But do grab the rest of the ridiculous amount of crap these guys could stuff in an Oldsmobile courtesy car. I once ran two full bell carts of dry-cleaning to Jesper Parnevik’s room. I almost ran out of places to hang it.) But really, don’t touch their sticks. The caddy, at that point, was supposed to appear, take them, and do whatever with them.
So far so good. Tournament came, went, and Craig Stadler was sharing a car with some other guy, and checking out. We had just finished packing his car with all four (2 pros, 2 caddies) guys’ stuff, but the trunk wouldn’t close. Too much stuff.
Keep in mind, at that point, I’m pretty good at playing Luggage Tetris. I’m better at it than most of the staff, and all of us are better at it than you. Nonetheless, it barely won’t close. I’m not about to Igor the trunk lid shut, right on top of two Touring Pros’ golf clubs. I could just imagine the Snap!
Here comes Stadler, leaving the entrance, walking to the car, with the minor resting bitchface like he usually had, and he looks at me. Who is now looking worried. Gives me a big grin, hops up into the air, and lands his ass on the trunk lid, which clicks. Hands me an extra 20 bucks, laughs, and they drive off.
Neat guy. As most of them were. Payne Stewart was pretty cool.