Nothing is Given at the Alpena City Open

A lot of us have a golf tournament we really want to win.  It's the one event we circle on the calendar each year.  It might be the third flight at your club championship, the member-member at your country club, or a competitive amateur event in your hometown. It's the event you practice a few more times leading up to, hit a few extra range balls that week, and arrive at the course a little bit (or a lot) earlier than usual. For me, that event is the Alpena City Open. 

On August 3rd and 4th, the 57th Alpena City Open will be played. I've played in about 15 and never won. I had a few chances at the end of high school and in my early college years but couldn't capitalize.

I'll never forget the first time I was in the final group on the last day. I was paired with Bill Peterson, a local legend and by far the best golfer in the city. He has won 19 City Opens and even finished second in the Michigan Open one year. Along with my Dad, he helped teach me the game. To a skinny little teenager with the giant glasses, Peterson was the most intimidating opponent.

Peterson was (and still is) the owner of the 19th Hole, a bar in Alpena. Back then, he was a big dude who smoked, cussed, and had a quick temper on the course. When Peterson (affectionately known as "Whiskers" for his ever-present five o'clock shadow) missed a putt, he would often swing his putter and smack the bottom of his shoe, punctuating it with a loud "FUCK!” He had me beat that year before we even put a tee in the ground. 

I'm not sure how I didn't whiff on the first tee and after I opened with a triple bogey, my chances were gone. I'll always remember what happened on the second hole: we were walking up the fairway and Whiskers put his hand on my shoulder, told me I was a good player, and told me to take some deep breaths. It meant so much to me that I had, in a small way, gained the respect of Mr. Peterson. I think I somehow shot 80 and finished 3rd or 4th. 

There was the year Bill was hurt, and I was in the final group with Phil Straley, a nine-time winner. I smoked a drive down the middle on the first hole of the final round, a short par-5 that I could easily reach. Straley, a short hitter with a killer short game, hit the big pines just off the tee, and his ball dropped down 50 yards off the tee. This was going to be my year, I thought. Straley made par. I made six. I stood on the 2nd tee defeated and finished a distant second. 

And there was the year I won our Club Championship. I was a teenager and had outlasted Gerry Kneshaw in a three-hole playoff. It made me realize I REALLY could win the City Open. It also made me put too much pressure on myself that year and I crumbled.  

As a kid, I'll never forget what it was like to have the other flights come back in their carts and watch the final few holes. Beers in hand, 15 or 20 carts would surround the last few greens. I wanted to win so badly. I still do. 

I'm sure most of you have similar stories. Hopefully, there are stories where you came out on top. I hope you have made a putt in the member-member to close out the final match while other members cheered. We all want to walk into the clubhouse and see our names on that trophy listing the winners. It means nothing in the scheme of things, but that one weekend a year means everything. 

The Karshnick Cup sits on a table just inside the door of Rivers Edge Golf Club in Alpena. I walk by it each time I play. The Cup is named after Dave Karshnick Sr, who helped start the City Open in 1967. Alpena is a tough, blue-collar town where nothing is given. When I was a teenager, some of the older guys weren't big fans of kids playing in the City Open. But Mr. Karshnick was never one of them. With his visor pulled down low and the ever-present cigarette in his mouth, he always welcomed me to the group with a pat on the back, or an encouraging word. 

Dave passed away a few years ago from cancer, but his son Dave Jr, who owns a gun shop in town, and his son are here, and play for the cup bearing the Karshnick name. 

Sadly, the golf scene in Alpena isn't what it once was. When I was a kid, the championship flight had 30 players, 15 of whom could win on the right weekend. Next weekend, we will have 15 players if we are lucky. A couple of those 15 will be high before or during the round. Benny will hungover, or drunk, or both. I still want to win.

Erik Peterson, Bill's son – and the best golfer in Alpena – won the Club Championship last weekend by seven. I finished seventh, 19 strokes behind him. It wasn't the result I was hoping for, but despite that, I still have a (very outside) chance this weekend. 

Erik and I play a good amount of golf together. If he didn't hold down two full-time jobs as a trout fishing guide and a cook at his family's bar, he could easily compete in the mid-am golf scene. He is a plus handicap despite only playing around 50 times a year. 

He usually beats me by five or six when we play together, but a few weeks ago, we played 27 holes after the rain. On the opening 18, he shot 72 and beat me by just three. On the extra nine, I hit the ball as well as possible and shot a 3-under 33. Erik shot 37. 

The reality is that Erik will beat me 98 out of 100 times across 36 holes. Despite the evidence of last weekend, I have to go into the City Open thinking I have a chance. 

The weekend I have circled on my calendar for the last year is finally here. It's time for the City Open. 

‍