The Masters is upon us and every casual golf exhibitionist in your workplace is the world’s biggest fan of the sport this week.  Hunter, a 2 handicap, has taken the initiative to handle the finances and operations of your company  pool this year.  The first time I ever heard the term “Golf Prick” used was by a former co-worker and still good friend.  We worked as commercial credit analysts together at a large bank in Dallas, TX.  I asked him how it was working with a certain loan officer and he simply replied, “Ahh, he’s not bad for a Golf Prick.”  The term needed no explanation as I had been professionally fostered in the current atmosphere of the time.  These days you look in the mirror every morning and ask yourself how a GP ended up on the sideline wearing a headset, coaching your favorite football team.  To connect these two dots, we must first trace back the roots of the GP and how his existence came about. 

The Golf Prick was spawned in the early 90s in Dallas, TX, where conditions were ideal for optimal growth.  The real estate bidness was coming back around, and this time, they weren’t going to fuck it up.  So, we thought.  They traded in their cocaine from the 80s for the new speed drug of the 90s, titatium, over which deals would now be closed.  An 8-iron was the new 8-ball.  I really don’t have any problem with this group of which many a good friend belong.  Obviously, I’m not a golfer, so from the outside looking in, the scene amused me to some extent. 

Golf was cool.  Black guys were now even good at it, making it even cooler.  Personally, I think golf’s a neat game, but about 7 holes too long for my taste.  Other than that, I’ve enjoyed it.  Commissions and bonuses were rolling back in and deals were getting done.  What I found polarizing was the magnitude to which such a game influenced one’s image.  We were all college football fans, but you can’t really wear pads or a replica jersey to work on Monday.  The links, however, were a different story as pleated chinos, concho belts and an Ashworth shirt were perfectly acceptable for every day attire.  Plus, it made an implicit statement, “I play golf, too”.  You could easily recognize an arena of common interest for skipping Fridays and expensing it to your boss.  It’s the genius of golf.  Anyone can play.     

Nothing says I love golf like the concho belt.

Since bankers were typically required to wear suits Monday through Thursday, some other mark of identification was needed for those whose career choice didn’t include wardrobe freedom.  Enter the Copper Bracelet.  I’ll never forget the first time I saw one, and being of curious nature, asked the functional purpose.  The answer, “The Copper soaks into your bloodstream helping to provide a natural chemical balance that assures steadiness throughout your swing.”  Or, something to that effect.   Greenies as they are more commonly referred to among the non-society.   

Much classier than a tattoo of a driver on your neck.

It’s always important to have good hair, which if you do, should be on display if at all possible.  Enter the Visor.  A multi-purpose head gear serving 2 primary functions in the game of golf:  (1)  Blocking out the sun; and, (2) Allowance of those blessed with Mike Piazza-quality locks to continue the glorious display without interruptions. 

The ultimate golfing party hat.

Some of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life are Golf Pricks.  They would have achieved professional success even if they chose to dress like Tom Fucking Mix.  With that being said, I also had an appreciation for those with technical limitations, who had parlayed their understanding of politics into positions of which they wouldn’t be qualified were it not for thriving economic conditions.  Relationship managers were needed just as badly as sellers and those of a creative structural nature.  I’ll admit it.  They were fun to party with, and typically, consisted of the guy, who got busted for the DWI on the company golf retreat.  Or, the guy who filed a $3,600 expense report for the Men’s Club after Fight Night.  You often asked yourself how exactly he got this job.  The answer?  Golf and bullshit, my friend, and both are considered fair game.  There are other ways for career advancement and the subject methods aren’t any less ethical.  I would consider golf and bullshit in categories such as using your resources.  Adapting to your environment.  Relationship building.  “Networking”.  Likeable folk for the most part, technical deficiencies aside.

Dedfischer in work attire, circa 1999.  Way ahead of his time, you’ll notice the conchos are clearly where they belong.  On chaps.  Although, co-workers may look at you kind of funny, if you try to pull this off.

It was only a matter of time before golf, or “networking”, would be firmly entrenched within the college football atmosphere of the 90s.  They just needed a sucker.  Lo and behold, the land of jorts, crotch rockets, and 4 x 4s.  Central Florida.  Where the statistics for wealth distribution are closer to a 99%/1% split.  The 99%ers wrap their hands around a Ping each weekend versus a throttle in this modern day romance of Southern class society.  Buried in fertile recruiting grounds, non-seasonal weather, and access to some of the finest courses in America, Gainesville was the perfect environment for the Golf Prick to make his debut on the Gridiron.  Hamming it up with influential boosters on the links was a much less stressful means of job security than historical methods.  All he had to do was recruit. 

“Fuuuuuuuuck, yeah.”

The competition included an old geezer still wearing polyester coaching shorts, a Panama straw hat, and Tackleberry’s Oakley shooting glasses to practice, and a once proud Cartel  living on borrowed time, cracking at the seams, and possessing an indifferent Cuban fanbase.   This was now Steve Spurrier’s turf and thrive he did.  All the way to the top.  The OGP, opening the door for many others to come. 

I’d say about 120 out.

Over the years, the OGP has come around to appreciating the comforts of Oakley’s form fitting style.  It’s also debatable which sport he enjoys more.

Miami wouldn’t be down for long.

“Viva la Cuba!!!!”

Texas, being keen to the breed, shied away, but that didn’t stop a down and desperate Oklahoma program.  They plucked one right off the OGP tree and met him at the airport with a new Cadillac and free life membership.    

“I know where the fucking cart path is!”

T. Boone, who has owned GPs his entire life, wasn’t going to be left behind, and took it to another level with even younger and cooler.  The evolutionary chain spawned the element of hair gel.

Times, they are a changin’.

 TCU went so far as to pay an angry gnome with giftcards from Golfsmith.

Most likely candidate for a DWI at next coach’s conference.

This photo recently turned the Longhorn Nation upside down:

Wicker loafers, no socks, while displaying framed case of Ben Crenshaw’s broken wedge from the ‘87 Green Jacket Affair.

 Go meet Ted in Global Accounts over here.