Hain’s Point

Year opened: early 1900’s

Architect: Walter Travis

Web: www.golfdc.com/gc/ep/gc.htm

Phone: (202) 863-4444

This is where I played my first round of golf (besides the two rounds where I went along aimlessly with a few college buddies at Rutgers). Set on the peninsula jutting out behind the Jefferson Memorial, it was a pleasant drive through Washington - past the Washington Monument obelisk, yep, paddle boats in the Tidal Basin, watch out for the catatonic tourists photographing the impermanence the grace the splendor of the cherry trees, the fish and crab hawkers across the inlet on Maine Avenue, the occasional john looking for a quickie noon blow-job, weirdies fishing in the Anacostia (like what’re you gonna catch, an old can of tuna fish?), and busy National Airport across the Potomac River. Down at the end of the peninsula there was this pretty awesome sculpture of a 100’ Greco-style giant embedded in the earth, struggling to break free from the Hain’s Point soil. (Unbeknownst to me, the sculpture was relocated downriver recently, after a quarter-century run in East Potomac Park – now how am I gonna impress my dates après dinner, wait a second, I stopped dating when I quit drinking… hey, shouldn’t I be working on my Match.com profile instead of writing this blogbit and was the sculpture really that critical, was I bringing so little of myself, sure it was always a go-to move, like Bryan Ferry on the audio track or the blue-neon poster in my hallway once the deal was virtually sealed…but still...)

What’s pretty cool about this place is that it’s cheap, it’s easy and did I mention… it’s cheap and easy? Also, the dress code was…what’s the opposite of stringent? Accomodating? There were many times we’d swap our frayed-collared polos for tank-tops once we broke free from the starter shack. Else what? You have to really work at losing a golf ball and if the big boy course is packed, there are a couple of other 9-hole options available.

Strolling up to the rec center pro shop you pass the old black dudes passing the time betting on putts while nipping at 40s, and then you take your chances getting your name on the starter’s chalkboard and since it’s cheap and easy, there can be an annoying wait time and we don’t do lines, certainly not since college when Irish Denny blew through his late father’s inheritance on a coke spree. The last time me and my boy waited in line for anything was in the early 70s, staying overnight at the mall Ticketron for George Harrison tickets…right…the less said about that the better. I avoided getting a car for years because of the lines at Motor Vehicles. When we cruised Manhattan in the gogo 80s, you would find us invariably in some bucket of blood old man alcoholic dive rather than being herded into a stanchioned line at some happening club du jour. Hell, I’d take my chances on the odds-on heart attack climbing the Washington Monument’s thousand+ stairs rather than wait in line for the elevator to the top. But sometimes one must wait - so depending on the previous night’s revelry (well truth be told, it didn’t really matter one way or the other), we’d grab a couple of cold ones, park ourselves on the steps and check out the old timers wagering on putts while occasionally stumbling over to the green to smooth our stroke or poke a peek at the starter’s chalkboard.

The course was apparently laid out by the venerable Walter Travis, one of golf’s seminal figures - as writer, amateur champion and course designer – but whatever remains of his influence seems to have been squandered by the uninspired imagination of his wastrel grandson, Walter Travesty. Purportedly links style, I guess, but the mounds of dirt strewn around the course hardly invoke Ballybunion and the course conditions varied from swampy to patchy since drainage was non-existent on the flat field. The greens are smallish so skull chipping became an acquired skill out of the surrounding areas of dirt, clay and clumpy rough. The tee boxes are just a few markers staked in the ground. And with nary a water hazard, this was the ideal place to perfect my chop, chop, chop, up-down bogey style of golf.

Since the time I frequented this course in the early 90s, a double-decker driving range has been erected, filled at lunch-time with young shirt and tie clad bureaucrats hitting balls towards the Potomac; the hookers have moved on to another stroll and the Maine Avenue crab fisherman are selling crabs from the Gulf of Mexico since the Chesapeake Bay’s crabs have been essentially depleted. The mounds of dirt have been used to build-up a few distinct tee boxes. The starter still has his chalkboard and I haven’t had the desire to flaunt the dress code since I quit drinking.

It gets a single point for its location and another point for having views of the Washington Monument. Otherwise, this is strictly for folks just starting out. So it barely earns its rating of 2.

Rating Scale

I’ve always been more comfortable with numbers rather than stars, so this will be simply be a number on the 1-10 scale.

1-3 Pretty Darn Poor. Bad layout, poor conditioning, few redeeming factors, crowded

4-5 Mediocre. Some redeeming qualities, a few decent holes

6-7 Decent A fun, challenging course without a lot of awe or wow factor

8-9 First-Rate Among the best in the region

10 Perfect The best golf experience imaginable