Always "The Rick"

Besides reviewing video games, enjoying photographer and being a dork in general, one thing I love doing is playing golf. I began playing when I was in grade school, thinking I could be as good as my dad and one day beat him at his country club, but things just didn’t work out for me that way. I continued playing in high school and stopped for awhile in college when a golf course and money was hard to come by (plus, video games and beginning a journalism career sidetracked me).

I picked it back up when I started my first job in St. Petersburg, Florida, and have been enjoying it nonstop ever since. Five years ago I thought the only way I could compete with some of my better golf friends was to go to golf school, and I found one down in Myrtle Beach that I could both afford and which seemed to provide somewhat personal instruction.

There I met Rick Mommsen, the lead instructor and a guy who would reform my golf game forever. Yeah, he was that good. After the first year, I thought it was worth it to go the next year. And then the next. Three straight years I traveled down to Pawley’s Island, SC, and Rick was a big part of the reason. When my pal Kelly went with me the second year, it took about 3 seconds for him to discern that Rick was an Ohio guy. Not only that, Rick was a former Columbus cop, who golfed like a pro but without gloves and enough gold rings and bracelets to be a pimp. He also sported a bushy gray mustache and had hilarious and yet not-so-PC ways of instructing us, but it was just his way. He improved Kelly’s game in three days, though Kelly broke his elbow skating and that derailed his golfing.

The third year in a row my buddy Dan went, and was also impressed by who now became The Rick. Dan was never much for people telling him what to do, so the instruction has taken as much as I thought it would. But The Rick certainly helped make me more consistent and in golf consistency is key. And he definitely helped shave nearly 10 strokes off my scores.

Rick and I had had drinks my first year when rain cut short a round, and now after a third year in a row he had remembered me, so by then we were joking with each other frequently. He remembered everything about previous students. Swing patterns, bad habits, things that needed correcting, and he always knew how to get a chuckle out of the class. So when Rick had to miss the second day of class that third year, I asked him coyly “You got something better to do than hang out with us, Rick?” Classic Rick, he laughed it off and said he did and left it at that.

I found out the next day that Rick had cancer, and that he was going for his next round of chemo and surgery the following week.

Rick died of cancer last year. Last month a memorial tournament was held to raise money for a local cancer research center. Kelly, Dan and I could not make it down there for the tournament, but I sent a check along with a letter expressing my thanks for all Rick did, even if I only spent a total of nine days with the man on a golf course.

I’ll always hope he didn’t take my joke personally, and I will never live it down because had I known I would have never made it. I’m sure The Rick is doing something better right now, hitting fairways and greens and smiling all the way. Hit em long and straight, Rick. We miss you.