Bogey-Free in the Heartland

Ben and I are en route to the U.S. Amateur Qualifier in Edmond, Oklahoma. It’s a father-son road trip—golf clubs in the back, gas station snacks in the console, and real America rolling by outside the windows.

Yesterday, we stopped in Newton, Kansas to play Sand Creek Station—a course so brutally long the front nine alone stretches 3,900 yards. The course rating is 77. It’s not just hard—it’s a test. We both held our own. I followed it up today at Cherry Oaks, a short reprieve from the beating. And I did something I’ve never done: shot a bogey-free 67. One of those things that lived on the bucket list until suddenly it didn’t. Honestly, it felt like winning Nationals. Ben fired a 70. But here’s the real stat: he hit 18 greens in regulation (if only he could putt…) Every single one. That’s its own kind of magic. And the best part? We’re not even halfway through the trip.

After Cherry Oaks, we pulled out and looked across the road. Dollar General. Ford dealership. Liquor store. Church. It doesn’t get more Kansas than that. Until, of course, we saw two Mennonite women driving a tractor down the highway—one at the wheel, the other on the mower attachment, both grinding like it was just another Tuesday. No commentary, no Instagram story, just work.

Now we’re heading to Prairie Dunes before the qualifier in Edmond tomorrow. And somewhere in between these little towns, it hit us: this is what people mean when they talk about the hollowing out of middle America. You can feel the fading, the neglect. Everyone wants the city life—action, buzz, opportunity. But no one talks about the cost.

The green fee was $28 each. The cart fee, $14 total. We paid $8.50 for two waters and a White Claw. (Yes, I drink White Claw. No, I don’t want to talk about it.) Two full rounds of golf with carts for two the last two days and beautiful local Kansas courses? $166. Dinner for two yesterday? Sixty bucks.

Inflation is real. But not everywhere. Or maybe more accurately: it’s optional—if you’re willing to live where DoorDash doesn’t reach and nobody cares what your job title is.

This isn’t a nostalgia trip. It’s a reality check. Out here, people work. They don’t post about it. They just do it. And whether it’s an 18-green regulation round or a bogey-free 67, sometimes the win isn’t on the scorecard—it’s just being out here, grinding. Hopefully, Ben gets his bogey free round tomorrow. It will make the drive back to Denver for his 6:30 caddy job Thursday morning so much easier.

Yes. I fist pump, even in rec rounds …. I’m very competitive.