We've hosted A LOT of block parties at the Killhouse...but what exactly do they look like? Aside from the grill, a lot is burning at the Killhouse ahead of the 4th of July. So we're here to serve up all of our hot summer takes. Enjoy this Q&A from the crew, and have a safe and fun holiday!

Q: You've been invited to a 4th of July BBQ: What are you bringing, what are you getting seconds of, and what are you reluctantly adding to your plate out of sheer politeness?

 60-70 bags of the Trader Joe's Carolina Gold BBQ chips. Confident they are as good as BBQ chips get. 

 my wife’s pasta salad – a simple, no-frills version made with rotini and Italian dressing. 

 is likely some sort of potato salad, a food which I’ve never seen eye-to-eye, but that my Midwestern colleagues tend to ride quite religiously for. 

If I’m not hosting, I’ll bring the YETI backpack cooler with 12 ice-cold domestics, or I’ll call ahead to see if additional ice is needed. Ice is always a hassle for a host. 

 of Peggy Schuster's summer coleslaw. She makes a version with green apple bits that isn’t overly creamy or mayonnaisey. Coleslaw is underrated when appropriately made, and I believe it’s one of the rare dishes that gets better after 1-2 days in the fridge as a leftover. I often add baked beans to my plate 

 I don’t dislike baked beans, but they seep into other sections of the plate, don’t mesh well with forks, are hard to eat when you don’t have a table, and there’s always a glut of baked beans available. I feel it’s my duty to make a dent in that pot of baked beans, even though I find them a high-maintenance and overrated summer BBQ option.


 something I can purchase or grill. I am not adept in the world of baking or cooking, so I'm offering to bring meat, simple sides, drinks, or some cupcakes for dessert. That’s my comfort zone. Once there, 

 baked beans and/or potato salad along with a second hot dog, assuming we’re grilling those up. And we should be, it’s July 4th after all. 

 and throw some salad onto the plate. It’s not my favorite, but it reduces my guilt with all the other stuff I’m going to consume. I’ll tell you what I’m not touching, though, and that’s deviled eggs. Never had one and don’t intend to. Huge mental block there. 

TC: I love pasta, and macaroni salad is no exception.

 I like making it with dill pickles and pickle juice, and then messing with different other elements. It’s not really a standard recipe; I just make the base and then get fun with it. There are also not many things I love more than rich, hearty, fresh-sliced tomatoes with salt, pepper, and a dash of vinegar and olive oil on them. I struggle to get them in Florida, but I’m figuring out a way to get some from that dark soil up north and bring them to the picnic, or make some fresh pico. 

, I’m loading up on deviled eggs and whatever the protein is - hopefully hot dogs with fresh onions, good mustard, and some celery salt or good burgers with mayo and tomatoes. Fruit salad always gets it done. Potato salad, cole slaw, and baked beans are always hit-or-miss - can be great or mediocre. 

 cupcakes or cake, or brownies. Give me some good fruit with whipped cream or some JonnyPops: Sweets > savories. 

 I recently perfected my chocolate chip cookies, which tend to do well at any gathering at any time of year. 

 which is an ungodly amount of Cool Whip, crumbled vanilla or angel food cake, and a combination of strawberries, blueberries, and bananas, all layered in a deep aluminum pan - or any layerable vessel of your choice! It’s festive and honestly, super refreshing! Plus, all the fruit reduces the guilt of desserting it up. If there are French fries, definitely 

. French fries are my No. 1 treat in this life. I pretty much like all summer holiday food, so 

 a refreshing salad - a classic watermelon cucumber one, or I'll spice it up with a watermelon, jalapeño, and Tajin salad. 

I’m not adding anything to my plate out of politeness:

 some cheddar dogs and hoping someone else is manning the grill, so I can hand them off without the pressure of having to cook them to perfection. 

 of mac and cheese (why can’t I get rid of this gut!?), and 

I’ll throw some greens on my plate in case someone is watching,

 but I’m probably not eating all of them. 

Q: Is Joey Chestnut an athlete? State your why/why not. 

Joey is undoubtedly an athlete. He trains in his craft and has honed his technique. His work is physically grueling, and there is a winner and a loser in his line of work. 

 Of course, Joey Chestnut is not an athlete, but it doesn’t take away from the impressiveness of what he’s doing.


 100% yes. I can’t believe this is even a question. Competition, mental stamina and physical exertion, rivalries, etc. If Joey Chestnut isn’t an athlete, then golfers and baseball players (at least certain positions) are absolutely not athletes. 

 Joey Chestnut is an athlete. If you watch the Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest for even five seconds, you’ll agree. He’s got to have the leanest esophagus in the entire world. Is there a way to measure this? 

 I mean - it seems like he trains way more for his sport than I do for mine. 

 published after he won the 2021 Nathan’s contest, details the rigorous training regimen he undergoes to compete - it seems pretty intense to me! I say athlete! 

Q: The iconic (and memeable) dessert from my childhood was the SpongeBob popsicle with melting gumball eyeballs – what’s a treat that makes you think of childhood, and is it still around? 

 The Good Humor Chipwich was a summer staple. Combine that with the “suicide slushie” (adding all slushie flavors to one serving), and you have The Kid’s adult swim snake circa 1996-2000. 

 I have a couple that remind me of my youth. First, the chocolate chip wheelies are delicious. Always been a massive fan of those, especially at the pool on a hot summer day. Back home, my Mom used to make strawberry shortcake for dessert in the summertime. I liked mine with ice cream and fresh strawberries piled high. Mmm-mmm, delicious! 

 Oh man, really tapping into something here. The first thing that springs to mind is the “Big Chipper” cookie ice cream sandwich. Neil and I used to annihilate those things at the pool. We’d go up to the club, play golf all morning, go play tennis, then go to the pool and drink a bunch of lemon-lime canned Gatorades, hot dogs, and ice cream sandos (both the Chipper and the plain Mayfield ones) and then go back over to the golf course and hit more balls. Then our parents would get the bill from the club, and austerity measures would be implemented in July. The other thing is just the “Flavor-Ice” tubed freeze pops. We used to get them at Costco and would sit there with our dad and eat a whole sheet of 10-12 of them in one sitting, and then Mom would yell at us for not throwing the tops away or cleaning the scissors. 

 I’m the one who wrote this question, so I can expand on that: There are few things I associate more with a 90-degree day in Florida (and Y2K childhood) than standing on the pavement of a random driveway in front of an ice cream truck, unwrapping a Spongebob popsicle wrapper, only for the yellow ice cream to already be half melted and his eyeballs dislodged from the indented ice cream sockets. Come to think of it, I don’t remember the last time I saw an ice cream truck. What a real bummer for the iPad kids of today. 

 Nothing reminds me of my childhood more than cherry Dilly bars from Dairy Queen. I have not had one in years, but it seems they are still around despite rumors they were going to be discontinued. When I was a kid, you could walk up to the Dairy Queen on South Higgins in Missoula, MT, and ask if they had any mistakes. They often did, and would hand you a mangled cherry Dilly bar for free. It was like winning the lottery. The Dairy Queen employees were always teenagers, and teenagers are going to mess up the complicated alchemy of ice cream production, so it felt like there was an unspoken pact between the workers and the kids that you would make their mistakes disappear. The goodwill brought you back when you did have money. 

 It has to be the Choco Taco! Invented in Philadelphia for Jack & Jill Ice Cream trucks in the early 80s, this is the thing I wanted THE MOST every time the ice cream truck made an appearance down the shore at Wildwood, but my mom NEVER let us get it. We were limited to Twin Pops or Fudgsicles only. I poured one out when they stopped making them in 2022. 

I honestly hadn’t thought of these things in about 20 years, but Push Pops were a massive thing in the summer at the pool, and I may need to seek one out as I type this. 

 Bomb Pops were the first thing that came to mind for me, the red, white, and blue popsicles. Quintessentially summertime and one of the messiest treats known to mankind. I just went to their website (Bomb Pop dot com, great URL) to confirm whether they still exist, and like most simple treasures, they seem to have lost the plot. “Bomb Pop Extremes,” “Mashups,” a Warheads collab, and something called “Super Sour Blue Raspberry.” What happened to the game I love?

Q: We’re nearly through the major championship calendar in professional golf. Take one attribute per player from our current reigning champions and Frankenstein your ultimate champion. (Mao, Maja, Minjee) (Rory, Scottie, J.J. Spaun) 

 Oh wow, this is a little more difficult than I imagined. But here’s what I’ve got: 

 Rory. Don’t think this needs too much of an explanation, except maybe let’s assume he’s back in his non-conforming driver or a new one that suits him. 

 J.J. Spaun is a flusher. He’s currently 7th in SG Approach the Green on Tour, so even though we’re leaving some skill on the table with Scottie, this feels like a great use of J.J.’s best attribute. 

 Scottie Scheffler is really good, if boring, around the greens. He’s my pick here. It feels like we may not be getting enough, though, out of the guy leading the PGA Tour in SG Off the Tee and Approach, haha. 

 Minjee Lee’s switch to the long putter has totally transformed her on the greens. So let’s let her handle this area. She’s near the top of the LPGA in SG Putting this year, and we just saw her putt lights out to win the Women’s PGA. 

 Maja Stark is the easy call for me. I love the way she carries herself and looks at the world. A quote recently, after winning the USWO, exemplifies this, I think: 

How would you say your life has changed, whether in small or big ways, so far?

Hasn't changed that much. I feel like maybe a bit less stress about keeping the Tour card and that stuff. But, no, I feel like everyone has been asking me if I've treated myself to anything or bought something. I was like, no, I was pretty happy with what I had before, and I'm still happy with it, yeah.

 I don’t know much about Mao Saigo personally, if we’re being honest. But she grew up outside Tokyo, Japan, and I imagine that’s where she still makes her home. Tokyo, and Japan at large, fascinates me, so we’re going to have our Frankenstein golfer here be Japanese and live in Tokyo. 

 JJ’s putting, Maja’s humility, Rory’s driver, Scottie’s iron play, Minjee’s wedges, and Mao’s ability to figure out how to get the ball in the hole. 

Rory's driving, Maja's tenacity, Minjee's putting, J.J. Spaun's heart, Mao's steadiness, Scottie's Strokes Gained: Bad B*tch. 

Q: What’s an NLU project or series you’ve loved this year that you wanna shout out?


 podcast is something I’m very proud of in 2025. I hope it will become an evergreen time capsule of a historic major win. 

 I’m really proud of all the work we’ve put out, but I’m especially thrilled with 

our project to help raise money for an endowed Evans Scholars Foundation

 scholarship at Miami University. Thanks to D.J. for spearheading the legwork to get this up and running, and thanks to everybody who’s donated. We're outpacing our wildest expectations towards the end goal of $500k.


 We made a concerted effort to double down on our podcast “product” this year and move to a more balanced approach that gets beyond the pro game more often. The 

 episodes that we’ve done have been a delight, and I’ve been thrilled with the feedback on them. Everyone’s been open and vulnerable about what ails them, where they’re at in their personal relationship with golf, and okay with that being a little bit of a window into where we are mentally. D.J.’s last week was particularly impactful, and if you haven’t yet listened to it, you should fix that! 

 I don’t want to spend my time telling you how immersive and captivating 

 is, or how it’s literally one of the best things I’ve ever listened to. Just listen to it! KVV’s Forest Park narrative pod also had me in my feels. 

 video. I think it was a great mix of golf and other activities. The weather was insane, making it less about the birdies and bogeys, and just more about getting out to a new place with some friends and having a great time. There were many more places I wanted to take everyone to, but unfortunately, there just wasn't enough time! We’ll have to do a sequel. 

 was just so good. The interview with Brian Chavez had me ready to run through a wall. Those three make such an incredible team, and it's awesome to be able to watch it through the lens of D.J.’s creative brain. It’s art! 



What's Burning at the Killhouse: 4th of July Edition

16 majors have June, and we're almost through! But before it ends, let's catch up on what's happened so far, including some insights from NLU squad members who were seen #GettingInvolved.

at Fields Golf Club was a hit, with two NIT spots awarded to 

 and over $10k raised for Excel Youth Academy. This was our very own Mramer's first No Laying Up event (if you're wondering who that is, he's the newest member of the team - get to know him 

 He's already signed up for his second event! "I had never played in any kind of competitive golf event, but I came away realizing that these Roost events are as much about getting out and having some fun with like-minded folks as they are about the golf," Mramer said. "I went into the weekend knowing almost nobody in the group and walked away with a bunch of new friends and great memories."

 went 6-0 and earned a berth in the NIT. Along with raising $5k for charity, the Plex had the support of BMW of Dallas, who awarded two all-expenses-paid trips to the BMW Cup to the two low net scorers, and had cars on the course as hole-in-one prizes. No one made one, but rumors are that someone came close!

 One of the coolest highlights of the year came from 

, who made a hole-in-one to then emerge victorious in a post-round chug off and took home the net title. 

earned his spot via the gross championship. "It was proper golf, and I love those days," says Big Randy. "As an extra cherry on top, there were Evans Scholars caddies out with each foursome working as forecaddies. Our caddie, Georgia, is interning with the Colorado Golf Association this summer and working on a joint project with the Denver Botanic Gardens to get wildflowers seeded and growing around CommonGround. I mean, that’s way cooler than any shot I hit all day."

Team Grip and Sip It beat Team Szechuan Chicken in a sudden-death playoff - a statement uttered only at 

 took the NIT berth. They raised nearly 3k for Ronald McDonald House Charities of Canada!

 was a dizzying good time. "We talk a lot on the podcast about 'Proper Tests' and 'Psychological Examinations,' and I would contend that The Brandy Old Fashioned was among the sternest tests we'll see anywhere in competitive golf this year," says our very own D.J. Piehowski. According to D.J., the 36-hole event at the fescue-lined fairways of Washington County Golf Course had temperatures near 100 degrees and gusts to 40 mph. "It was a good day to have a forecaddie! Massive thanks to the Evans Scholars who came out to help track down the many golf balls that missed the fairways. Can't wait for next year!"

Congrats to our NIT qualifiers for the month of June so far:

 Gbarilar, JF_NEOH, FamousFoot, soft_serve, llamaherd, lanerock19, SmokyMtn, Hollynemo, andrewf, BladeitBowman, Jon, jdallen100, JCEdmonds

We'll see them all at Dobson Ranch for the 6th edition of the NIT in November.

 There are still plenty of opportunities to qualify for the NIT. Check out the remaining major schedule below and 

 with your local Roost now: We've got a field to fill out!

The King Stay the King - Out of the Woods

 (Forest Park Golf Course - Redbud/Dogwood

July 19, 2025: The Steeplechase at Jeffersonville

NLU Events Update: June 2025

This content first appeared in the June 2.0 edition of the No Laying Up newsletter. To be the first to receive content like this, sign up for our newsletter 

Our dads are irreplaceable playing partners, and the ones that gas us up — or the ones we gas up! The ones we share once-in-a-lifetime experiences with, including shots that belong on the SportsCenter top 10. So here's a thank you to the NLU dads in the form of six short essays — and a happy Father's Day to all the dads out there.

 The only golf trophy I’ve ever won is a bit of mystery to me. It goes back over 25 years to the annual Hyde Park Golf & Country Club Parent-Child Tournament. My Dad and I would play each year, mainly because it involved spending a nice Saturday with our friends, Dan MacConnell and his son, Scott. It was an 18-hole tournament, but neither my dad nor I were much in the way of golf. I think breaking 90 was a good day for my old man, while breaking 100 was a thrill for me back then. We’d played in this event several times over the years, never coming close to sniffing a trophy or expecting to. But 1999 was different. And to this day, I have no idea why. 

It was a terribly unmemorable day of golf for both of us. We completed our 18 holes, turned in our scorecard, and went to grab a bite to eat by the pool. When it came time for the little winner announcement and trophy ceremony, we were sitting back, wondering who had won, certain it wouldn’t be us. Again, we stunk at golf. So you can imagine our shock when “Chuck and Philip Landes” were called up to collect the winner’s plaque. 

Surely, there was a mistake. Had they added our scores wrong? Had we somehow messed up our card? We felt the need to make certain the Head Pro knew what he was doing here. He assured us he did. So, we sheepishly collected our hardware and enjoyed nice congratulations from our fellow competitors. 

I asked my dad recently if he remembers anything from the round that stands out, and he is at a perpetual loss. We both have no idea how we won. It was a handicapped event, so that is the overarching answer, but I guess we just picked the right holes to throw some bogeys and a couple pars on the card? I can assure you we weren’t that tuned in to where (or how many) pops we were getting. 

My dad and I still laugh about our win today. And while I’ve gotten a bit better at the game, I won’t come close to collecting any hardware. And my dad’s love/hate relationship with golf has slowly transformed into simply a hate relationship–I think he might play once or twice per year. So he’s unlikely to ever win anything again. But nobody can ever take the 1999 Hyde Park Parent Child Tournament championship from us. Those flags fly forever.

 I have played in countless scrambles throughout my golfing life. I am, generally, an excellent scramble partner. If you remove the pressure of having to count every stroke, I can masquerade as a shockingly good golfer, someone who swings from the heels with all the confidence (and body type) of a young Babe Ruth. Even into her 70s, my mom remains the best golfer in our family, an 11-time winner of the senior club championship back at her country club in Missoula. She drives it as straight as the Montana interstate, and she putts like an artist. We are a formidable duo in summer scrambles. 

Unfortunately, this does not leave my father with much to do when he joins us in these competitions. He does not hit the ball high, or far, or even particularly straight. He is a competent putter, so this is where he tries to make an impact. If we are going for a Par 5 in two, he is often reluctant to even take a rip at a ball, particularly if we already have one up by the green. “Why bother?” he says. “That is well beyond my capabilities at this point in my life.” 

There is a hole, however, at the Missoula Country Club that will forever feel like sacred ground to me, because of something that happened a decade ago. It is the 10th — short Par 5 with a formidable pond in front of the green. The details of that July day are still vivid in my mind. A decent drive left us 220 in. My mom laid up short, knowing her limits. I struck a long iron heavy, then watched it splash miserably into the pond. My dad grabbed his wedge, preparing to hit a second lay up. 

“What are you doing?” I asked, incredulous as ever. 

“I don’t have that shot,” he insisted. He wasn’t wrong. It had been years since he’d carried a ball 200 yards, much less with a 3-wood. But it seemed silly to me to surrender without consequence. 

“Maybe just one time, you do,” I said. “Another lay up doesn’t help us. Let’s give it a go.” 

He sighed and reluctantly yanked a wood from his bag. 

I have seen thousands of great golf shots throughout my life. I have seen Tiger Woods and Rory McIlroy hit towering, majestic, exquisite draws into the 15th green at the Masters, and I’ve seen Bryson DeChambeau and Jon Rahm hit balls that appeared to briefly flirt with the ozone layer. 

But none can compare — at least in my heart — to the 3 wood my father hit that day, the way it started low and climbed like an airplane, the way it reached its apex just as it arrived at the pond, and then landed softly on the bank beyond it, kicking forward and rolling out to 10 feet from the pin.

I don’t remember the specifics of our celebration, only that my family erupted like Bobby Thompson had just homered off Ralph Branca. My father closed his eyes and began to laugh. For a few seconds, his whole body shook. We whistled and we yelled, we thumped him on his back and across his broad shoulders, and I’m certain you could hear our howling all throughout the course as it ricocheted back and forth between the pines.

 One of my greatest golf memories with my dad was having him on the bag for the 2023 Pebble Beach Pro-Am. It was something neither of us could have ever pictured, and I would legitimately crack up every time I would look over and see him just casually chatting with Bill Murray. I'm not sure I would fully believe that any of this happened if it weren't for some of these photos. (

 Growing up, I remember my dad complaining about golfers. He managed our family's bar, and I think he just hated that the golfers all came in on Saturdays after their rounds and made it busy in the afternoon. He didn't complain about the game, though, and used to take us to the local mini golf/driving range/par 3/batting cage place for fun. I remember making a hole-in-one on that 1st hole of Waltzes' Golf Farm's chip & putt course ONE TIME (I had to have been 12 or 13 years old) and he kept calling me Nancy Lopez for the rest of the round. 

As I got older and started to play "real golf," he stopped working at the bar and started to play more often, too. He would tell me that he was going to beat me next time out because he "watched a lot of Golf Channel" and "had Tiger's swing down." He has not beaten me. He does not have Tiger's swing. He does love to have a cold PBR with me as we laugh and talk about the birdies we are gonna make on the next hole. And that's what it's all about.

 My dad is not good at golf, but what I appreciate about playing with him is that he still sincerely tries to improve. He wants to get better. He wants to go to the range ahead of the round. He wants Tron and I to give him tips. He wants to keep score. When he inevitably hits a snipey low left bullet or high spinny slice early in a round, he impulsively goes to his pocket to hit another one. It’s not that he wants to cheat or make his score look better. The impulse for a breakfast, brunch, lunch, and afternoon snack ball throughout the round comes from a genuine desire to improve. He wants to prove to himself that he can get better immediately. I love that. 

I feel like not caring or having apathy has become in vogue in today’s world. It’s easier not to care or not try. It’s safe to be apathetic. It would be a lot easier for my dad to choose not to keep score or ride in the cart as Tron and I play. But he doesn’t even consider it. He wants to play, and he wants to compete. He’s sincere in his effort, even if he looks bad or fails. It’s one of the things I admire most about my dad. He’s comfortable in his own skin and sincere in his intention. This is on display when he’s playing bad golf, and that’s why I love playing golf with him.

 I’ll be brutally honest: I HATE playing golf with my dad. He keeps score but takes at least one mulligan each hole (a brutal combo), possesses the most unreasonable expectations for each shot, is a great athlete but lacks any discernible patience on the course. He's allergic to discipline, tempo, course management, or remembering a swing thought. And at least once a round says “I hate this f*cking game!” I’ve probably played over a hundred rounds with my dad and I don’t think he’s ever been able to sign for an honest score. But he’s not trying to — that’s not why he’s out there. His swing is simultaneously way too long and way too fast, leading to staggering inconsistency. And through it all, he somehow putts well enough to keep drawing him back, and has gotten more into walking in his later years. And if you ever need a “D” player in a scramble, he is your guy - always good for a couple of 250-yard drives right down the middle, some squared-up mid-irons, and he’ll always be prone to rolling in a few 10-15 footers or lag-putting his face off. 

 It’s the one sport he really locks in on being a spectator. Some of my most indelible memories are sitting on the couch on a Sunday, the whole family transfixed with what was going on. The Masters was on dawn until dusk. Yelling at the TV at the top of our lungs during Van de Velde at Carnoustie was a core memory. Rooting against Sergio and Jeff Maggert when they popped up on a leaderboard. Making jokes like “Cink sunk” when he made a bogey. And getting weirdly into all the week-to-week garden variety PGA Tour events on CBS during the summer, even when Tiger wasn’t in the field. We watched a lot of golf. It was the cornerstone of our Saturday and Sunday afternoons (sometimes later that night on “TiVo”) and, while it wasn’t apparent at the time, it laid the groundwork for what Neil and I now do for a living. 

So here’s to you, Franchise. You may not be wired for playing golf, but you taught me how to forge my own relationship with the game, appreciate greatness, and passed along your love of the Masters, specifically. You love the game in your own way.

Dear Dad

Here are two sobering truths about podcasting:

Anyone can start one.

Maintaining one is something of a small miracle.

The numbers are a bit fuzzy, but according to the most frequently cited statistics, there are somewhere in the neighborhood of 3-4 million podcasts out there. If you have an idea for a podcast, there is a decent chance someone else had it first. The barrier to entry is minimal, but it’s harder than most people assume. Most podcasts — and this is true — die an unceremonious death by episode three. If you make it to 20 episodes, you are in the 1 percent of all podcasts.

So what does that say about the No Laying Up podcast, which just crossed the 1,000 episode mark this week?

If nothing else, it means we’ve been good at showing up.

I used the term “we” somewhat liberally because I’ve only been an official part of No Laying Up for two and a half of our 10 years in existence. But at least spiritually, I feel like I’ve been along for nearly the entire run, cheering on and signal boosting the boys wherever I could as we all tried to find our way in this ever-changing media landscape.

I knew what a podcast was back in 2014, mostly thanks to Sarah Koenig and Serial, which debuted that year. But it would be ridiculous to suggest that anyone thought it was going to radically change golf media back then. The magic of those early days of the NLU podcast is that you didn’t even know (or care) if anyone was listening; you just treated it like a fun conversation among friends who were passionate about golf.

In 2014, it felt like a major portion of golf media was — just being direct here — insufferably serious. There was a clear appetite to talk about the game the way you would talk about it with your friends, either in front of a television or after the round over beers, but no one was filling it. That’s the environment in which the podcast emerged.

In its own unique way, the podcast became something of an incubator for future golf media careers. The first non-NLU founder to appear? That was Shane Bacon, then the editor of Yahoo’s Devil Ball Golf blog, in Episode 4. He’d go on to do broadcast work for Fox Sports, NBC Sports and ESPN, and you can now catch him calling featured groups each year at the Masters.

Episode 5 marked the first appearance by Kyle Porter, who’d just started covering golf for CBS Sports. In the early years, Porter was essentially the Regis Philbin to Soly’s David Letterman, appearing as a guest 14 times in the first 100 episodes. Episode 7 featured Shane Ryan, a future writer for Golf Digest, but at the time, a contributor to Grantland. Ashley Mayo (the future Editorial Director at Golf Digest, then the Chief Brand Officer at 8 AM Golf and Cabot), made an appearance, and so did Chad Coleman (now the Chief Brand Officer for Dude Perfect). Even Barstool Trent showed up for an episode, in a crossover event that would play out like an Avengers movie if it occurred today.

And NLU Episode 15? That just happened to feature yours truly, at the time an ESPN feature writer who’d spent 15 years writing about football but had recently developed a passion for golf, and probably replied to the NLU Twitter account a bit too often. Soly asked me to record audio on my end, then send it to him so he could mix it with his own. That’s how rudimentary it was. If you can track down that episode, you will be treated to a delightful story from Soly about a time he, Randy, and T.C. (whom he affectionately refers to as Todd and Phil as he’s telling the story) shot pool and did a “LeBron Shot” with Todd Hamilton. I listened to it recently and smiled, knowing everything that was on the horizon.

I do an Ernie Els impression in that episode, by the way, but not Gary Player. Somehow, my Ernie Els impression has regressed.



There was no set schedule early on. Weeks would occasionally go by without an episode appearing in the feed. Soly and I fact-checked it recently, and from September 19, 2014, to mid-January of 2015, there wasn’t a single episode. The Twitter account (NoLayingUp) was thriving, but the heartbeat of the podcast was barely a flicker.

Near the end of 2014, however, someone out there sent Soly an email. We tried to find it recently, but it’s long gone, reduced to little more than memory and vapor. The emailer wondered: Was the podcast going to continue? They had really enjoyed it and hoped it wasn’t dead.

“I remember thinking: Ok, this matters to someone,” Soly told me recently. “Maybe there is something there. I need to keep doing this.”

That was just enough of a nudge to convince Soly to circle back and record more episodes.

In January of 2015, Kyle Porter returned (this time with actual microphones) to talk about Brooks Koepka. In May of 2015, Justin Thomas became the first professional golfer to appear on the podcast. Soly had to get up at 2 am in Amsterdam to record at the time Thomas wanted to record, but something was clearly cooking. Billy Horschel showed up in episode 26, and Max Homa in episode 31. D.J. Piehowski made his first appearance in episode 35. Rory McIlroy arrived in episode 56. Everything changed from there.

These days, we frequently get emails asking for advice from aspiring college students, and I am often unsure of what to tell them. When I was trying to break into media in 2000, there was a clear playbook. You got an internship at a great newspaper or a magazine, you did great work, you hustled, scratched, and clawed your way into a full-time gig, and you rose from there. How do you explain to a college student the podcasting journey?

Soly and I once recorded a wrap-up podcast for the 2017 Open Championship in a flat in Southport, England, sitting so close that our knees were touching because our recording equipment was the Voice Memo app on his iPhone, which was resting on his leg. I’d talked my ESPN colleagues into letting him stay with us for free. If you want to know a great way to form a friendship for life, I can highly recommend watching Jordan Spieth do unspeakable things and then recounting it as you’re practically sitting in each other’s laps so the mic can record your ridiculous musings. They don’t teach that in journalism school.

There are no rules to success, and sometimes, you make it up as you go. You don’t need a map, you just need the desire to create stuff.

If you do, like-minded people will find it.

As much as I’ve loved seeing our podcast evolve over the last decade, with smart agendas and scavenger hunts and brilliantly-produced narrative episodes, I also cherish the memory of the days when it was just a loose group of friends trying to figure it out, telling dumb stories, barreling toward a future we couldn’t see clearly.

Because that’s ultimately what it still is.

Everyone involved had a hunch that we knew where we were going, and when you think about it, that’s how a thousand episodes become two thousand.

We hope you’ll come along for that ride, too.

Here are two sobering truths about podcasting:

Anyone can start one.

Maintaining one is something of a small miracle.

The numbers are a bit fuzzy, but according to the most frequently cited statistics, there are somewhere in the neighborhood of 3-4 million podcasts out there. If you have an idea for a podcast, there is a decent chance someone else had it first. The barrier to entry is minimal, but it’s harder than most people assume. Most podcasts — and this is true — die an unceremonious death by episode three. If you make it to 20 episodes, you are in the 1 percent of all podcasts.

So what does that say about the No Laying Up podcast, which just crossed the 1,000 episode mark this week?

1000 Episodes Later

This originally appeared in the March 28th, 2025 edition of the No Laying Up newsletter. Sign up 

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A few words — if you’ll allow me — regarding this picture. 

In 1996, shortly after his son turned professional, Earl Woods gave a quote to Sports Illustrated that is among the most ridiculous things ever uttered about a professional athlete. It was not possible to go viral 29 years ago; the internet was but a small part of how we consumed sports back then. But Earl Woods went whatever the 1996 equivalent of going viral would be. The following quote was everywhere, and what makes it even more insane, looking back now, is there was a serious debate about whether Earl might possibly be right. 

"Tiger will do more than any other man in history to change the course of humanity," Earl Woods said.

The father was not referencing the impact his son would have on sports. He was not predicting that Tiger would be a cultural giant like Jackie Robinson or Muhammad Ali or Arthur Ashe. He was, without hesitation or apology, going even further, predicting that Tiger would change the destiny of the entire human race. 

The writer, Gary Smith, a legendary profiler for Sports Illustrated, wanted to make certain he understood Earl correctly. Was he saying he would be more important than Nelson Mandela, Gandhi, or even Buddha? 

"Yes, because he has a larger forum than any of them,” Earl Woods said. “Because he's playing a sport that's international. Because he's qualified through his ethnicity to accomplish miracles. He's the bridge between the East and the West. There is no limit because he has the guidance. I don't know yet exactly what form this will take. But he is the Chosen One. He'll have the power to impact nations. Not people. Nations. The world is just getting a taste of his power."

Nearly three decades later, we can say with some certainty that it did not play out that way. Tiger Woods was — as expected — great at golf. But he was not as influential or as popular as Jesus Christ, Muhammed, or even Albert Einstein, among others. Earl Woods wanted things for his son that the son did not actually want, and nearly every stage of his career has been a reminder of that subtle rejection.

What we can say about him, I think, definitively at this point, is that he is the most successful version of Florida Man who has ever lived. The hard launch of his new relationship with Vanessa Trump last week, punctuated by that bizarre picture in the hammock, was all the reminder we needed. 


It’s true that Tiger Woods was born and raised in California and that he was educated at Stanford (at least for a couple of years). Normally, those two facts would seemingly disqualify him from entering the Florida Man Hall of Fame. 

A true Florida Man, however, cannot be defined by his origins. 

In fact, it is a bonus when a Florida Man is not originally from Florida because it means he is a summation of his choices; he has adopted this life — this religion — instead of merely being born into it. 

So, what exactly defines a Florida Man? The criteria are fluid, but some things feel non-negotiable. You should own (or at minimum lease) a boat. You should have at least one ex-wife. Your back and your knees should hurt, at least a little. 

What happened, people might ask? Life happened, man. 

No one should be surprised if they see you wearing socks with sandals. You’ll wear sunglasses most of the time, which means you will squint in pictures when you’re not wearing them. Your hair should be a little thinner than you might like, but you can’t bear to say goodbye to it just yet. You grow an occasional goatee when you’re on leave from your job. Your friends should all have nicknames, like Strick or Steiny or J.T., and there should be at least one mugshot on your resume. 

You do your best to be a good dad, despite it all. 

A Florida Man’s dating history might admittedly be a little messy. The neighbors or other parents at youth sports events might gossip. But a true Florida Man knows that no one should be defined by their past. 

This, after all, is the land of reinvention, of forgiveness, of third and fourth chances. 

Tiger Woods did not want to be the most influential human to ever walk the earth. He wanted to kick ass at golf, and he did that. Will he be that person again? It’s unlikely, but who can say. 

For now, he seems content to pose for pictures with his new girlfriend in a hammock, then release them to the world while at the same time asking for privacy. 

This is the way of the Florida Man. He is not searching. He’s just living day to day. 

Florida Man At Rest

What’s the coldest temperature where you will still consider playing golf? This is a question I ask myself every February in Baltimore, and I still don’t have a great answer.

I suspect the answer is different depending on where you live, and how long your golf season lasts. I know people who reside in California and Florida who find the idea of playing golf in 50-degree weather to be insane. I don’t know a single person in Maryland who would balk at a tee time where it was 50 degrees.

I will go even further and tell you that I subscribe to the Stringer Bell Theory.

If we get a 40-degree day, that’s not even worth celebrating or complaining about.

Everything south of 40 degrees is where this debate gets interesting. I played my first round of 2025 a couple of weeks ago at Clifton Park Golf Course in Baltimore with my friends Colin and Devin, and I think the temperature when we walked to the first tee was 37 degrees.

Objectively, this is absurd. I know it is. A lot of courses won’t even let players out on the course at that temperature because you’re potentially creating issues for the grounds crew, snapping the grass when you walk — particularly the greens — instead of bending it. But Clifton is not a course that has a budget to pamper its golfers. If you want to tee it up, and there isn’t snow on the ground, you’re welcome to play.

Can’t put a peg in the ground because it’s still semi-frozen?

In the eyes of Baltimore City, that sounds like a YOU problem. Maybe put some work into hitting your 3 wood.

One thing I like about February golf, other than it represents the tail end of winter’s icy grip on my seasonal affective disorder (self-diagnosed), is how fun it is to play golf with low expectations and just enjoy the experience. It feels almost like you’re stealing, in a way.

You should listen to our recent podcast about the aspirational golf that some of us want to play this year. It’s a great episode and I have some lofty places I’d like to visit this year, too. But after thinking about it this winter, I also want to reconnect with the kind of golf with zero stakes and low expectations. Working on our series about public golf in America has reminded me of how many of us just want to walk around a big dumb field with friends (and beers) for four hours and not have to stress over all the other B.S.

I cracked a joke recently on a podcast about Clifton, mostly trying to make fun of my daughter — who has grown up playing most of her golf at a country club, and so she has a snob’s sensibility when it comes to conditioning — and I got a couple enraged DMs from Baltimore people telling me I should walk into traffic. (Online discourse remains a delight, doesn’t it?)

The truth is, I love Clifton and have been playing it regularly for the 25 years I’ve lived in Maryland. It feels a little like a quirky family member. I reserve the right to joke about it, but I would be pissed off if someone shit on it, so I understand why the comment seemed snobbish.

Is there noticeable trash and broken glass just off some of the fairways? Yes. It’s also $34 to walk and has a couple of holes that are among my favorites in Maryland. Whenever I dream about winning the Mega Millions, one of the first fantasies that comes to mind is dumping like $50 million into Baltimore’s municipal golf courses and keeping the greens fees under $40 while at the same time giving them the budget that Baltimore Country Club and Caves Valley get. But that also might destroy the ethos of the place.

If you haven’t played winter golf recently, I recommend giving it a spin. Yes, it hurts when you catch a shot on the hosel. When the wind blows, it can be borderline miserable. Some winter days, to paraphrase Rogers Hornsby, I stare out the window and wait for spring.

But some days, I can’t wait any longer, so I put on three layers and trundle through the frost.

On the first tee, my friend Colin reached into his pocket and pulled out a hand warmer. He handed it to me, and I don’t think I would have been happier had he handed me a thousand dollars.

With warm hands, I managed to push my tee a quarter inch into the ground, then somehow roasted my drive down the middle.

No idea what I ended up shooting that day; it didn’t matter.

Only one thing did — I was golfing again.

If you are one of those people who hates the dumb voices I do during our Major Deep Dives, I have an explanation for you: Blame Saturday Night Live for their existence.

If they occasionally make you laugh, you can thank SNL cast members like Dana Carvey, Mike Myers, Phil Hartman and Will Ferrell, because they did a lot to shape the storytelling instincts of a teenage kid who grew up in Montana. I’ve said this a few times on our podcast, but it’s worth repeating: impressions aren’t supposed to sound exactly like the person you’re portraying. In fact, the closer they get to mimicry, the less interested I am. I think you try to embody the person’s spirit, not sound exactly like them. If you think they’re cringe … you might be right! Not all content is tailored to you.

I was thinking about some of this as I watched all three hours of SNL 50 this past week. The show has been, and I say this without much hesitation, one of the most important cultural influences on my life. I can’t pretend that I tune in every week anymore, but there was a time when it felt like it was the only show that mattered. They have a saying at 30 Rock that your favorite cast was probably the one that happened to be on the show while you were in high school, and I think that’s probably true. Carvey, Myers, Hartman, Adam Sandler and Chris Farley all seemed like gods to me when I was a teenager.

SNL 50 wasn’t perfect (no episode of SNL is, by design) but I still didn’t want it to end, despite its three-hour run time. Sandler’s song covering 50 years of the show’s history probably hit me the hardest because it encapsulated all the bits I probably lean into a bit too much — nostalgia, earnestness, inside jokes, cringe voices.

I loved every second. If you didn’t feel something during the moment when Sandler’s voice almost breaks as he sings about Farley and Norm McDonald, I’m not sure we’re occupying the same emotional planet.

On the surface, I was a jock growing up, but I was also a nerdy theater kid at heart, and every Monday, my friends would spend the better part of study hall breaking down what sketches worked and what characters bombed. A lot of the sketches were genuinely cringe, but I don’t think that mattered. My attachment to them is rooted in a time and place where I was still figuring out who I was and what I wanted to chase in life.

This was a show my parents had watched, and now it was a bridge that connected our generations. I don’t think my father and I have ever laughed harder — together — than we did during the recurring sketches about Toonces the Driving Cat.

It’s so simple, so stupid, and yet so funny.

One reason SNL has lasted 50 years — other than a lack of any competition on Saturday nights — is that it manages to reinvent itself for each generation. I don’t remember Gilda Radner, but I know how important she was to the show and my parents, so one of the most emotional moments of SNL 50 was when Jane Curtain and Laraine Newman held up her picture during the goodbyes.

The photo is a testament to a lot of the things I love, the idea that a community of artists from so many different backgrounds and generations can be connected, or tethered together, by their desire to make art. Here is Martin Short, Tom Hanks, Jimmy Fallon, and Jane Curtin together, and here is Laraine Newman (whose daughter is the hilarious Hannah Einbinder of Hacks fame), and they’re all trying to do the same cosmic, unexplainable thing. Norm Macdonald once wrestled with the fact that no matter what he did, most people would know him for his time on SNL. Eventually, he was at peace with that. “As long as the show lives, then so do I,” he wrote.

It doesn’t matter if art is dumb, or if a lot of it doesn’t hold up well. The pursuit of it is as fun as anything on earth. When I think about what I consider the best cast members, the true Hall of Famers, most of them are the ones who would sell out in pursuit of the joke without fear of embarrassment or cringe: Gilda, Dan Akroyd, Bill Murray, Eddie Murphy, Will Ferrell, Kristin Wiig, Kate McKinnon. I could name a dozen others.

My daughters almost never watch SNL when it airs, but they always love watching clips or reruns of it on Sunday. I’m always surprised at how invested they are in who is going to host or who the musical guest might be. And part of what makes the show continue to work is, as insular and masturbatory as it can be, they’re not shy about welcoming new icons into the mix to continue the reinvention. I saw a surge of criticism from The Olds online when Paul Simon opened the show with Sabrina Carpenter, the suggestion that the latest bubble-gum pop singer wasn’t worthy of such an honor. Simon, after all, had performed “Homeward Bound” with Geroge Harrison on the show back in 1976. Who was Carpenter compared to one of the Beatles?

I knew exactly why it was happening, however, and my suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when I received a text from my 15-year-old with a screenshot of Carpenter and Simon.

“Look dad. One singer for you, one for me.”

You can be cynical about it and believe Lorne Michaels is a craven opportunist (possible!) or you can decide that, regardless of motive, SNL passes the baton and welcomes creative newcomers into their circle as well as anything in culture. Emma Stone, Ariana Grande, Ryan Gosling and John Mulaney are, to my kids, what Steve Martin and Tom Hanks were to me as hosts.

Fifteen can be such a confusing age. The world is asking you to grow up rapidly and at the same time, demand you remain a kid too. I’ve found I love driving my kids places with their friends because if you put on some music, they eventually forget you even exist. You might as well be an Uber driver. They start talking at a rapid-fire pace in their own language, and if you just shut up and listen, you can gain all kinds of worldly insights.

The other day, my daughter and her friends (five teenage girls) were discussing the levels of interest certain boys had in them, and the interest (or lack of) they had in return. I learned that certain boys could be categorized as “huz” material, while others might be more of a “Hear me out.”

One of the girls mentioned a boy who was particularly cringe, a bit of a try hard, and I immediately felt a twinge of sympathy for this boy. But then my daughter’s best friend, Emerson, dropped a nugget of life wisdom that was so profound, it made me chuckle.

(You would be shocked, if you’re not a parent to teenage girls, how often they begin or end every sentence with the word BRO.)

Thank you for helping those of us who are a little cringe attempt to live free for the last 50 years.

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 30 (KVV)

, we were coming off of Randy’s wedding weekend, digging in on year-end handicap indices, I was still steadfastly opposed to the Eagles being a legitimate contender, Buck Tech was coming off a Michigan loss, and I hadn’t yet done my time in the Waffle House. Obviously, a lot’s happened since then.

Going to cast aside the delineation between “GHIN” and “Tonic” in this one and work through it all in one spot.

All of my golf in 2025 thus far has taken place in Argentina, which made for a magical trip with Wolfie, Ben and Cody. It was the most fascinating place I’ve ever been (with the caveat that I haven’t done Japan, yet) and I cannot wait to return. We hopped on to record a recap pod last week that will be released in concert with the larger video. Also working to get an accompanying written piece out with it, too.

On the golf front, it’s always a thrill to play a MacKenzie course for the first time, and Jockey Club yielded a unique look at the Good Doctor’s brilliance. All of the MacKenzie layouts I’ve played to this point have been on good to great sites with varying topography and drastic features. To see the way he approached a dead-flat site and blended engineering, drainage and strategic architecture into a 36-hole complex (and in only a few weeks on-site) was edifying and made me appreciate his work on a more technical level. And don’t get me wrong, the glowing brain shit that nobody else in the history of golf course design has even attempted was present, too. It’s all thrown me back down the MacKenzie wormhole reading everything I can about his work. Can’t wait to share the finished content with you, as that course wasn’t even my favorite of the trip!

Beyond the golf, the asado culture, the combination of aperitifs and soda, and the empanadas are “in” for me this year and beyond. I can’t wait to get back down there. And trees in the Southern Hemisphere continue to be provocative. Here’s a sampling from the trip:

Moving along, this year’s trip to Pebble Beach was wonderful. The outbound trip included a few hours sitting backward in one of United’s decrepit pre-merger 777s with the old business-class cabin, which is always weirdly delightful. This was my fourth trip to Pebble in the last couple of years, but the first without golf clubs. There wasn't a window between our annual team off-site at the beginning of the week, live shows on Wednesday/Thursday, and football and basketball games to get home for on Saturday morning. The off-site has turned into something I really look forward to each year and an increasingly valuable setting with the whole (growing) team in one place and setting the tone. Having our newest addition, Matt Mramer, jump in headfirst with the team in an eclectic setting yielded immediate dividends between his creativity, positivity and his eye for 

In hindsight, any golf I played on the trip would’ve been hampered by the volume of soup I had onboard at any one time. A couple of visits to a Monterey pho spot, a spicy tortilla deal at The Hay clubhouse, half a dozen different selections in corporate hospitality, a couple of airport soups (SFO always delivers on that front) and the liquid tasting menu extravaganza in the Tap Room added up to a pretty high floor, a lot of broth, and a layer of protection against the California cold that gets in the bones. The French Onion at the Tap Room won the week in the soup category by a pretty comfortable margin, by the way.

The real winner of the week across all categories was 

, a bakery in downtown Monterey that we visited twice and to which I would travel a significant distance for the sole purpose of visiting again. The selection of pastries and other baked creations on offer was deep and welcoming, to the point that you simultaneously want to order more than is reasonable and subconsciously start planning future visits to work your way through the entire catalog. The spiced apple tart that I ordered on the second visit was downright enchanting. On the umami side of the spectrum, I chose the smoked salmon sandwich on my first visit, and then again on the return trip. In the face of astonishing variety and delicious flavors, I STILL chose to get that sandwich again. The handheld featured meticulously cured salmon, rich cream cheese, pickled fennel, onions, dill sprigs, a mountain of capers and probably a few mystery ingredients enveloped by a sourdough that elevated the sandwich and connected the flavors. A few in our crew sampled the daily special breakfast sandwich, the description of which was thrilling just to read. We sat in the small space, indulging in our selections and captivated by the half-dozen or so bakers working on that day’s loaves behind a massive gallery window. Craftsmanship, but without the pretense you’d typically encounter at a place like this (there’s a place called 

 in the Alamo Square neighborhood of San Francisco that is so performative that I’m convinced it’s a bit.) Grateful to the gentleman who slid into the DMs on Instagram to recommend Ad Astra after he’d seen on my story that I’d enjoyed Captain + Stoker, a well-regarded local coffee shop down the street that Monday. Sharing is caring.

After returning home on a redeye, it was football and basketball games, baseball tryouts, some fun with an old favorite club, fun foods with the boys, and hanging with Julius Peppers.

I haven’t cooked much since the holidays, which is disappointing. We did quite a bit of entertaining through the holidays, and it felt good just to veg out and eat a bunch of takeaway and then get down to Argentina and eat my weight in beef. Need to get in gear the next 4-6 weeks before the big trips ramp back up. And I haven’t really been drinking much wine, either. These were the selections around Christmas festivities:

Finding out that there are an increasing number of Starbucks locations out there (like the one below at IAH) that do not allow in-person ordering haunts me. It's a pretty dystopian reality that you have to download an app to order something instead of just walking up to a counter and politely interacting with a human being. I hate it so much.

The NFL coaching cycle is among my favorite things to monitor: a potent blend of ego, scheme, hype, patience/impatience, incompetence and lack of imagination. This cycle was relatively predictable, the Brian Schottenheimer hire in Dallas notwithstanding, and I'm pleased with Liam Coen landing with the Jaguars since his signing was predicated upon the team firing the ultimate survivor, GM Trent Baalke. His coordinator hires have been spectacular thus far, and I like the candidates being interviewed for GM. Onward and upward!  

I'll have much more to say on my Eagles winning it all and other ruminations from the season on next week's episode of The BallKnowers. 

Mentioned it to Randy a few weeks ago, and will reiterate here: The best bursts of simple majesty in your feed.

 Casey Bannon’s wife, Isabel, started importing Swedish candies to the States and is now selling them. Thoughtful packaging, sweets that rise above anything available here in the States, and approved by my mother-in-law, who has discerning Swedish tastes and a very specific memory of Swedish candies from growing up. 

D.J., KVV and I spent some time in Chicago this week to plan out a few projects we're working on. I was able to get a taste of winter, clear out my sinuses (it's been unseasonably warm in Florida the past couple weeks and allergies have been a thing), and squeezed in some great meals, one of which I'll call out: 

. We booked it having heard mixed reviews and really didn't have expectations, which is the best place to be. D.J. and I are both fans of the show Top Chef, and this is the debut restaurant of one of our favorites, Chef Joe Flamm, who won Season 15. The concept is a blend of Croatian and a very specific region of Northeastern Italy, with a bunch of unexpected flavors, interesting spins on pasta and risotto, some refreshing seafood flourishes and a wine list loaded with surprises and value. Any concerns that it was going to be a general idea of "Adriatic/diet-Greek" cuisine vanished as soon as the first few dishes came out. And it's the perfect cuisine for smaller, family-style dishes and indulging curiosity and unknown ingredients - there's no risk in trying something new when you can try a dozen different items and not have your entire experience riding on a $50 entree. Highly recommend. The "Pastinaca" risotto dish defied classification or my ability to properly describe it (ingredients: caramelized parsnips, taleggio fonduta, balsamic.) Among other spots, we also hit Pequods for pizza and Tortello for pasta on the way out. 

Looking ahead: we’ve already locked down Silver and will make Gold in the next couple weeks for 2026 with United. Deep into planning. Trying to cut clutter and figure out what I WANT to do this year and leave room for wow. An Argentina write-up, the aforementioned #BallKnowers episode dropping early next week and some vacation for yours truly. Crack on! -TC

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 29 (TC)

Happy New Year, NLU fam. Thanks for being here to listen to, watch, and read all the #content. Here’s to an even better 2025!

I'm kicking it off with a true GHIN tidbit. Here in Las Vegas, we post all year long, so I got a few more rounds before heading back east for New Year’s festivities. I hoped to tie my lowest-ever handicap of 16.7 at least, but I had to settle for 16.8 to end the year. Operation “Get to at least 13 by 2027” continues!

Since moving here in mid-March, I’ve played 22 different Las Vegas area courses. There are about 55 or so within a 20-mile radius of the city center, so I feel like I did a good job getting around to most of the better public courses and a few privates. I visited one other Las Vegas “public” course a few times this year, not to play but to spectate: Shadow Creek.

No Laying Up

Writing

What's Burning at the Killhouse: 4th of July Edition

NLU Events Update: June 2025

Dear Dad

1000 Episodes Later

Florida Man At Rest

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 30 (KVV)

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 29 (TC)

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 28 (Casey)

What's Burning at the Killhouse: 2024 Round-Up

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 27 (TC)

NLU 2024: What We’re Thankful For

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 26 (TC)

The State of the Nest 2024

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 25 (D.J.)

2024 Nest Invitational Tournament: Reinben Reigns Supreme

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 24 (TC)

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 23 (Neil)

GHIN & Tonic, Vol. 22 (KVV)