10 things I learned about golf in America on a road trip

Thirty-five years ago, legendary football writer Peter King joined legendary football coach John Madden on a bus trip across America.

The plot of the story was simple – a glimpse into the country through the eyes of its main narrator – but the effect was shocking. For all of Madden’s ability to diagnose the blitz and admiration for a well-executed seal block, the subject he spoke about most eloquently may have been his seat.

It made sense. In his second career as a broadcaster, Madden spent more hours criss-crossing the country in his bus (affectionately called the Madden Cruiser) than anywhere else. He drove because he was too claustrophobic to fly, but soon found he enjoyed the experience. Madden read Steinbeck voraciously, and the author’s lust for America’s open roads rubbed off on the football coach.

I can’t remember the first time I read the story of the King from Madden Cruiser, which you can (and should) read here. I remember the line that ended the story. It hit me at first sight and has stuck ever since.

“You go to a big city and you hear the world is going to hell, but it’s not true. Little parts are; the whole is not,” Madden said. “You go out there and it makes you feel better about America. The thing works.”

I thought about this line again just a few weeks ago when I made the relatively sudden decision to move from New York City to Park City for the winter. For the first time in my life, I had a good reason to drive (most of the way) across the country. I would see the states I had flown or zipped across, a ship passing the night on its way to somewhere else. However, there would be no way out now. I would have to sit through every small town and rolling prairie behind the wheel of a 2011 Toyota Highlander, an endless strip of asphalt ahead of me.

When people asked me about the car, I tried my best to steal Madden’s enthusiasm and optimism. “I’m excited to find out exactly what it is out there,” I said.

But deep down, I was worried. Not from the perspective of Nebraska or Iowa or Western Illinois, but from my continued skepticism that there was still something worth finding. I feared that what Madden once loved about this country was gone—that the goodness of America had disappeared into a cesspool of nihilism and self-interest, behind the lines drawn in Internet comment sections and across debate stages.

The night before I left, I decided I needed to fight these worst instincts. As I stuffed the last of my clothes into my suitcase, I formed a plan. I would track down the one ray of light I knew I was sure to find in any condition—golf—and see if I learned anything along the way.

The 10-state tour began the next morning, November 3, shortly after 5am local time.

10. New York

It was the shortest part of our drive, but also the hairiest. Only about 20 miles separated us from New Jersey, but those 20 miles were through the busiest part of New York City’s rush-hour traffic—the corridor that connects Long Island, the Bronx, and New Jersey.

In the haze of pre-dawn darkness, I almost forgot to spot the first golf point of our journey: Douglaston Golf Coursea busy New York City street squished between three major freeways just over the border of Queens.

I’d only played Douglaston once – a forgettable, glacially-paced round in which I’d inadvertently managed to snap the head off an old driver – but I couldn’t help but smile as we drove past. Long ago, Douglaston had been one of my grandfather’s golfing homes. Poppy, a lifer from New York and die-hard golfer, helped instill in me the spirit of adventure that fueled my decision to move out west.

I thought he might have gotten a kick out of it.

9. New Jersey

As we cleared the George Washington Bridge, I watched, as I always do Overpeck Golf Course — a public runway looking down I-95 on the Jersey side of the bridge.

North Jersey is loaded with golf courses, and the Metropolitan Golf Association regularly visits area clubs such as Knickerbocker, Ridgewood and Arcola. Overpeck is different from those places. Nestled in the foothills near MetLife Stadium Marsh, it’s the kind of public course that represents so much of sports in the Northeast: an oasis from the hustle and bustle of the city … conveniently located within sight of rush hour traffic.

It only took about 20 minutes of driving before we broke one of Madden’s golden rules of the road.

“Don’t wait for anyone, finish every bottle of water you start, drink right out of the bottle,” Madden had told King. “And never take I-80 in or out of New York — there’s always construction.”

Indeed, Madden was right. There was construction once again on I-80, and an endless stretch of traffic was forming before 6 am. We were leaving the New York metro area just in time.

8. Pennsylvania

Pennsylvania is quickly moving from the metropolis to the heartland. I-80 would take us across the state, nearly 300 miles from east to west, and most of it would be spent traveling through the morning rush of rural America. The winding highway passed through gorgeous, yellow and orange terrain with views of the Allegheny National Forest and surprising, amber-encased towns like Clarion and Stoneboro.

From the highway, a group of golden shadows crashed down Clarion Oaks Country Club in the morning light.

7. Ohio

You don’t need to leave I-90 to see why Ohio’s golf courses are some of America’s most revered. Boulder Creek it’s an oasis on the side of a dull stretch of highway, and the golfers crowding the fairways and greens showed that a light November drizzle was unlikely to spoil the fun.

6. Indiana

I must have felt like I was losing my mind when, 12 hours into our first day of driving, I turned to my road trip partner (and girlfriend), Jamie, and heeded the following line.

“Wait! Is that it The Warren Course at Notre Dame?”

Indeed, it was. I had seen my first real golf spot: A beloved Coore-Crenshaw University course with chipped bunkers and odd greens. Better than golf though, we were approaching our first stop and dinner was in sight.

5. Illinois

It was a little after nightfall when we finally pulled into the parking garage at the Chicago condo belonging to my GOLF colleague, Sean Zak. After nearly 13 hours of sitting, it was time to stretch my legs.

We only walked for a few minutes along Lake Michigan before a golf landmark stopped us. It was a polygon, less than 200 meters from the apartment of Mr. Zak. No wonder he was so hard to reach on summer afternoons.

4. Iowa

After a year of living in the bustling Brooklyn neighborhood of Williamsburg, the name “Williamsburg, Iowa” was too catchy to pass up.

The city, complete with its “Central Park,” could be on the postcard of small-town America, complete with a cozy downtown area filled with lively cafes and restaurants. Mi Casa Mexican, in the town’s main square, treated two travelers confused on work calls to warm service and a delicious meal of fajitas and enchiladas.

Just up the road, at Stone Creek Golf Clubone of the most pristine nine-holes anywhere in America offers a similar welcome. For $26, you can go once around the nine-hole loop designed by five-time PGA Tour winner DA Weibring.

In other words, in Williamsburg, Iowa, you can find a hot meal and a great round of golf for less than $50. In Williamsburg, Brooklyn, $50 might not get you a pair of coffees.

3. Nebraska

Long before the trip began, Jamie and I chose to stop on our second day of driving at a hotel in Kearney, Nebraska, a small town right in the center of the state. I didn’t tell Jamie at the time that part of my interest in Kearney was more than logistical: Madden and King had stopped in the same town on theirs trip across the country, enjoying a meal at a family-run steakhouse called Grandpa’s, which Madden said showed his feelings about America.

We arrived in Kearney to find that life had gone on after Madden Cruiser’s visit to Grandpa. The steakhouse is no longer in business, but the heart of the place that had endeared itself to Madden remained completely intact. Kearney may no longer have Grandpa’s, but it does have Barista’s Daily Grind, a surprisingly good coffee shop with a line deservedly wrapped around the parking lot.

As it turns out, not all of the change in Nebraska over the past 35 years has been bad. Not far up I-80, Jamie and I stopped in Gothenburg, once a crucial stop along the Pony Express (the famous horse-drawn mail exchange that connected much of the American West in the 1860s). Gothenburg has since become a hot spot for golf, welcoming the development of one of America’s most underrated new public courses. The wild horse.

True to her name, The wild horse it cannot be entered without a 1.5 mile hike along a dirt road. And, true to its name, the golf course feels like it exists in a world completely untouched by human beings. I didn’t have time to play, but from what I saw I’m already convinced. For $65 on weekdays and $80 on weekends, I’m not sure there’s a better value golf course anywhere in America. I already have a visit lined up for my return trip.

2. Colorado

If you were hoping to prove John Madden’s words about America in an instant, you’d go to Buccee’s. The eponymous (and huge) chain of truck stops is like a fever dream of the American ideal: A gas station, mall, grocery store, barbecue pit, deli and an award-winning restroom.

Maybe you would stop there on your way to or from Dunes Rodeonew tourist course opened about an hour outside of Denver. But if that felt out of place, you wouldn’t have to go far to find some of the best Mountain West golf elsewhere in the state.

The most surprising thing about driving through Colorado was how much of the state was covered in golf. For nearly three hours straight, the I-70 corridor that cut through the Rockies was filled with exotic-looking mountain trails. As the mountains shifted from dirt to sandstone and the colors shifted from dark brown to red, the familiar sight of golfers traversing the fairways and greens of their local fairways served as a kind of north star.

We were near the end.

1. Utah

We finally arrived in Park City to find that the ski season hadn’t started yet. An unseasonably warm early November had put opening day in question for the nearby mountains, but the string of sunny, 60-degree days was welcomed by at least one part of the local community: the golfers.

As I drove through my new town for the first time, I looked around to see four golf courses within sight. Everywhere I looked, golfers seemed happy. They walked and rode, carried and pushed carts, drank in the scenery and the sunshine.

I thought about the words Madden first spoke 35 years ago.

“What I’ve learned from traveling is this: people are nice,” he said. “Hey, all we have to do is stretch out a little bit because we have plenty of room.”

I thought about every restaurant and fast food. Every gas station and truck. Any interstate and hiking trails. Every old friend and honest stranger. After a week on the road across the United States, has anyone disabused me of this notion?

The answer was simple: No.

America, it turned out, was still good. You just had to try and see.