Brotherhood, Bogeys & Being There

There’s something about college towns on the coast. The salty air, the slow pace, the kind of mornings that make you want to sip your coffee a little longer. It’s Magic. Ours had everything, cheap rent, late-night sandwiches, and golf courses everywhere. And nestled in that easy, breezy place, five of us became brothers.

We weren’t always polished golfers back then (some of us still aren’t), but the game was part of the landscape. It was affordable, fun, and forgiving, just like our friendship.

Over the years, we’ve been through it all: breakups and makeups, engagements and weddings, births and even losses that rocked us to our core. And through it all, we’ve shown up for each other. No matter the distance, no matter how life stretched us in different directions, jobs, families, responsibilities, we’ve never stopped being each other’s people.

But let’s be real. As time rolls on, spontaneous hangs turn into group texts, and golf swings get rusty. So, with the blessing (and sometimes help planning) of our incredible wives, we carved out something sacred: one weekend every year, we head back to our college town.

We call it The Unofficial Official Open.

It’s a mix of everything: golf, disc golf, putt-putt, bowling. We keep score, we get competitive, we trash talk like we’re 22 again. But we also stay up late. We share what’s really going on. We laugh until we wheeze, and every so often, we cry.

We hug each other hard at the end, every single time.

This weekend isn’t just about the games, it’s about the game plan. The long one. The one where you promise to keep showing up, no matter how many years go by or how far you live.

Because when you find your people, you don’t let them drift.

You circle a date.

You grab your clubs.

And you go home.