A memorable day playing with the pros

The e-mail came late last Thursday night.

"Would you be interested in playing in the Chick Evans Memorial Pro-Am on Wednesday? You'll be paired up with one of the professionals playing in the BMW Championship."

My first thought, of course, was I had to get some pants.

Since every day I played this summer was sweltering, it was nothing but shorts for me. But if I was going to play with a pro, I had to dress like … some sort of golfer.

My second thought was, yes, count me in.

I've been fortunate to play some great courses because of my job, but I've never had the chance to play with a member of the PGA Tour. How could I pass this up?

Turns out I couldn't.

Since I missed the pro-am dinner Tuesday night and the official draw, I had to call a special number at 9:30 p.m. When I did, I was told I'd be playing with Luke Donald at 8:20 a.m. Wednesday.

Sleep didn't come easy.

With a big coffee in hand, I arrived at the clubhouse about 20 minutes before tee time. I was courteously rushed to the first tee -- this way Mr. Spellman, you'll need this Mr. Spellman -- where I met two playing partners, Jeff and Jerry.

Because of a snafu, I was assigned two caddies (Mike and Marty) who took turns carrying my bag. They were former Evans Scholars who couldn't say enough good things about the program.

As we waited on the tee box for Luke, we were handed an index card on which we listed, among other things, hobbies and occupation. This is done so he can walk up to you during the round and say, "How long have you been at the Daily Herald, Mike?"

It's a nice touch, but the former Northwestern star didn't need any help. He's great at dealing with the amateurs; there was never any unforced banter.

Luke arrived with his brother Christian toting his bag. After introductions and photos, he walked to the far tees and unloaded one down the fairway. Then, as I feared, the starter said, "Mike, why don't you go first."

Great.

Turns out it wasn't that bad. I hit one a little right but in the fairway. I ended up with a bogey 5, but it was the last fairway I would hit for a long while as I flailed away in the trees and rough much of the round, although I usually scrambled to respectability.

And always Luke was there to compliment any decent shot I happened to hit.

As the day went on, I became less popular with the course marshals, who on two occasions had to scramble out of their greenside chairs thanks to my errant shots.

My first par of the day came on the par-4 fourth hole, courtesy of a nice approach from the rough. The next "highlight" came on the 10th tee, where a French television crew was stationed next to a 10-by-10 white tent that was literally on the tee box. After talking with the crew, Luke teed it up as the interviewer summoned me over to ask about playing with Luke.

"Blah, blah … it's been great; Luke's a great partner, really helped us out …," I rambled.

Just when I thought I was done, he asked me to take off my sunglasses and wink at the camera. I don't know exactly why, but I did it.

And then I turned and crashed headfirst into a tent pole just as Luke was in his down swing. He had to hear the ruckus but said he didn't when I apologized.

What I'll remember most, though, was the instant lesson on the 13th fairway after a poor approach shot. Pat Goss, Luke's college coach who joined us earlier in the round, surrounded me with Luke and Christian, each offering a different tip.

Care to guess what happened next?

That's right, straight into the ground, but who cares? Where else would I rather be?