Around 3.30am, one Tuesday morning in early August, a car pulled up to the parking lot in Bethpage State Park. Behind the wheel? A scorned mother with a plan and a promise to keep.
She headed to the spot marked ‘1’ and informed its occupants: ‘Hey, I have to take your spot.’ She handed over 40 bucks and a round of drinks. And then she lingered nearby.
An hour or so later, the group drove off toward the clubhouse and the mother made her move. On to the curb, over a patch of grass and into No 1.
Others had been waiting there all night to take that spot. But? ‘No one had a shot,’ her son Jake says. He was asleep at that point. But around 8am, he arrived to switch places with his mom. Job done.
Just like that, Jake and his three high school friends had won the daily battle that – for six weeks this summer – dominated this slice of Long Island: a chance to play Bethpage Black. All they had to do? Wait in spot No 1 for another 24 hours before heading to the first tee.
This week, Team Europe and Team USA[1] will collide at this public course 40 miles east of Manhattan. In the build up to the Ryder Cup[2], however, amateur golfers of all ages and abilities have tussled for the opportunity to test themselves over the same 18 holes – in front of giant stands and empty galleries.
The walk up car line has been a tradition at Bethpage State Park for several decades
Golfers slept in cars and tents and hammocks before taking on the punishing Black course
Two young golfers play video games in the parking lot as they wait for a chance to tee it up
Later this week, fans will descend on Bethpage State Park in New York for the Ryder Cup
It was lawless. Part-waiting game, part-free for all. A test of etiquette and timing and patience. And that was before anyone swung a club. In normal times, tee times on Bethpage’s five courses – Black, Red, Blue, Green, and Yellow – can be reserved via an online booking system.
This summer though, as construction workers turned this park into a place fit to host the ‘Super Bowl of golf’, reservations for Black were scrapped. The course was only open for a few hours a day and every tee time was allocated at dawn.
So fans waited all day and all night. They slept in cars and in tents, on camp beds, in hammocks and in the back of trucks. They brought coolers and chairs and grills and beers. They amused themselves with Uno and poker.
They ordered pizza, they booked days off work, they paid $5 to use the clubhouse showers and they even asked their mom to reserve them a spot. All they weren’t prepared to do? Surrender their place in line. Not when Bethpage Black was in touching distance.
‘It’s extremely tough,’ says one amateur who was hoping for a second crack at Black. ‘But it’s also the most fun you’ll ever have playing golf.’
A sign near the entrance to the parking lot lays out the rules of the ‘walk up car line’. Not that anyone was there to enforce them.
‘It’s unbelievably unorganized,’ Jake says. It certainly felt that way on the night Daily Mail Sport showed up.
We arrived around 11pm that Tuesday night with the hope of playing Black the following morning. It was a fool’s errand.
Luke Donald and his European team are hoping to secure a rare Ryder Cup win on foreign soil
An amateur player practices his swing on a patch of grass in the parking lot at Bethpage
A golfer sets up camp in his trunk as he waits for his chance to take on the Ryder Cup course
Dozens of cars were already in line. Including Jake’s. Others had driven from Maine and Connecticut and even Michigan.
One group embarked on a 27-hour drive to Bethpage, only to discover they would have to camp out for at least two nights before taking on Black. Like many others, we slept in our car and then settled for a round on Green.
Because every morning, around 4:30am, a course marshal arrived in the parking lot armed with bakery tickets. Every one contained a different number and, a few minutes later, the clubhouse opened and groups would be called forward – in order.
Once inside, golfers were met by a bank of screens detailing all the available tee times for that day. Only groups in parking spots No 1 to No 25 were guaranteed the chance to play Black. Everyone else was left to pray. Or play one of the other courses. Or wait another night. Or all of the above.
Unfortunately, this summer Bethpage was a place where etiquette came to die. The idea was simple: those who missed out on Black would simply move up the line.
The reality? Once one of the lucky groups headed off to the clubhouse, anyone could take their bay – whether they had been there all night or all of five minutes. Surprise, surprise, tensions and emotions ran high.
Every morning before 5am, birdsong was replaced by beeping horns and revved engines and the furious shouts of those who had barely slept. Some golfers devised tactics to block others from taking their rightful spot.
‘I’ll send someone money to buy me a tent, and bring it, and I’ll stand (in No 1),’ one hopeful, from South Africa, says. ‘I couldn’t care less.’
Dozens of cars snake around the lot, with the first 25 groups given a chance to play Black
The infamous warning sign that greets players near the first tee of Bethpage Black
The marshal did his best to enforce the rules, too. He barked at those who skipped the line and whipped into one of the first 25 bays. Many ignored him.
‘We came here last Friday and we were spot 31,’ Jake says. ‘We were the first group that didn’t play Black.’ His mom had arrived around 11am that morning – they were all in work – but she wasn’t going to let them miss out twice.
‘I promise you you’re going to get spot No 1,’ she said. What was in it for her? ‘A lot of flowers and alcohol,’ Jake’s friends explain. This group of 21-year-olds grew up down the road but they had never played Black before. Not officially, anyway.
‘We’ve snuck on a bunch of times and played a bunch of holes. But not the full 18… we’ve never paid for a round,’ one explains.
When they were younger, they used to use this park to smoke. ‘Before I took golf seriously,’ Jake’s friend says. ‘Now I take them both seriously.’
They spoke to Daily Mail Sport at around midnight. Their plan was to get a couple of hours’ sleep before the marshal arrived. Then secure the 8am tee time. Then head home for another nap before wandering to the first tee, past that sign warning average players not to bother.
It’s a par 70 and it promises to be a brutal test for even Scottie Scheffler, Rory McIlroy and Co. So what did this lot hope to shoot? ‘Oh, my God, 120?’ one asks. ‘(But) there’s a small part of us that does believe: holy s***, we can catch some magic and shoot 95!’
That won’t be good enough to win many points this week. The drive to Bethpage State Park, from my apartment on the Brooklyn edge of the East River, took around 50 minutes. Among the army of golfers ahead of us in line were two co-workers preparing for their own Ryder Cup showdown.
For six weeks this summer, tee times on the Ryder Cup course were only available via walkups
One was American, one was Irish. They had arrived around 10.20am and secured spot No 18. By the time Daily Mail Sport paid them a visit, it was 12.30 on Wednesday morning. Around the same time, a car alarm went off.
This group had opted for rather different strategies to deal with the long wait. The Irishman was ‘passed out’ in the front seat while his buddy worked on his technique.
‘I slept for about an hour,’ he explains. ‘Now I’m up and wide awake.’ He wasn’t planning on heading back to bed. Hardly ideal preparation for a punishing course.
They, like us, were a rare species in this parking lot: a pair. And that meant they had two free spots in their group. So, with little hope but even less shame, we asked if we could join them. Unfortunately, someone else had the same idea a few hours earlier.
It is not unusual for this parking lot to be busy before dawn. This line is a tradition dating back decades, with a few tee times reserved for walkups every day. Normally, though, a 4am arrival is good enough to secure a spot that same day.
So pity Adam, Joe and Michael. It was back in May that they first hatched a plan to play Bethpage Black this summer.
They set off at 8am on Monday morning and, after a pit stop in Philadelphia, pulled in around 11.30am the following day. ‘We were planning to play tomorrow (Wednesday),’ Adam explains. ‘We did not expect this crowd.’
They didn’t plan for it, either and so flights had to be rescheduled. Adam’s plans for a romantic weekend in New York with his wife were just about intact. Provided they secured a tee time on Thursday.
Their first day at Bethpage was spent on the Green course and in the clubhouse. They went for lunch, paid $5 for a shower, played a round and then door-dashed Wendy’s to the parking lot. They weren’t sure what they would do if Black eluded them for a second straight day.
Team USA captain Keegan Bradley will hope to lead his team to victory over Europe this week
‘Shoot us,’ Adam says. ‘Tomorrow morning, I’ll be out there blocking (parking) spots.’ Alas, sometimes being in bays one to 25 is not enough. As one group found out a few hours later.
The parking lot was abuzz again by 4am, with groups forming alliances and hatching plans in hushed voices. Before long, even more cars had showed up. Some people arrived to join friends who had held the fort overnight. Others were ready to start the long wait for the following morning. A few had no issues with skipping the line.
Then the marshal showed up and the carnage began. Around an hour later, he had another issue on his hands. A PSA went out around the clubhouse to confirm that all the tee times on black had gone. But one group – who had been inside the first 25 bays – were still waiting.
They were close to tears as they pleaded with Bethpage officials. Somewhere, somehow, someone had obviously jumped the line. The marshal apologized but his hands were tied – he had no more tee times to sell. This week, it will be down to captains Keegan Bradley and Luke Donald to decide who plays Black and when. Recent Ryder Cup history suggests that more heartache and more tantrums await.