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As a native New Englander, I am a big fan of fall, when frost covers the ground most mornings in this part of the world and the leaves of stately maples turn fiery reds and oranges. And there are so many rites of the season that I relish. Picking apples. Carving freshly picked pumpkins. Prowling the woods with my 20-gauge for grouse and woodcock. Recently, I have adopted another autumn activity, and that is playing in an Outpost Club event called the Punchbowl. Held each October at the Yale Golf Course, it is a combination golf tournament, nature walk and pub crawl that takes place at a time when the weather is generally good and the greens at one of the most dramatic and acclaimed creations of Charles Blair Macdonald and Seth Raynor are in the best shape of the year.
It is also huge fun, and a good example of how the game can be enjoyed in so many different ways.
Conditions for this year’s Punchbowl were flawless, and the field included 126 members and guests of the Outpost Club, which was founded nearly a decade ago and modeled after a British Isles golf society. After coffee and breakfast sandwiches, we were off. The format was alternate-shot with Stableford scoring, and we played 18 holes in the morning followed by nine in the afternoon. Between rounds, we indulged in a carvery lunch as well as a sparkling white wine punch, served, appropriately, from a silver punchbowl.
We started off in eightsomes, and even with groups of that size, we moved around the course briskly. We played ready golf. We gave putts that were within the leather. And as serious as we all were about our scores, no one was shy about employing the mouth wedge when the occasion called.
The afternoon session was shorter, and somewhat sillier, as we went off in 14-somes (if there is such a word), moving down fairways and around greens as if in a rugby scrum. It was easy to lose track of who was hitting when, and putts and approaches were sometimes hit simultaneously. Nips were taken from flasks between shots, and cigars lit. Some golfers hung portable speakers on their bags and played tunes off their iPhones. Points were doubled, making epic comebacks possible.
At the end of the day, we gathered at the par-3 ninth, which is a classic Biarritz, and one by one, we hit tee balls to the pin, which was cut on the back tier of the green. Good shots were cheered. Bad ones were mocked. Anyone who took a practice swing was booed.
It was golf before a live studio audience, and like the entire day, it was a gas.
John Steinbreder