Regular Golf Club

By: “SpectraMTG” Sean

I could tell you that this is a review of Oak Glen Golf Course in Stillwater, Minnesota. I could be more specific and tell you it’s a review of the front 9 holes of the Championship course. I could even say that it was on a Sunday at one of the 3 9-hole setups possible at the Don Herfort-designed golf retreat in the Twin Cities Suburb (most known for a barely-working lift bridge and an olde time ice cream shop). But I don’t think it would take long for you to figure out that I was full of crap.

On a middling weather Sunday Morning in May, I had the pleasure of having the wife make a simple request: “Lets go golfing”. I’m already the clubhouse leader of “luckiest guy on earth”, and I don’t even have pants on yet.

Thus begins the ritual: Get the golf shirt out, have the internal and eternal “shorts vs pants” debate before settling on shorts (Like there was any other choice), figuring out the hat and shoes combination. Then it’s time to pack the bag, and-

-It’s at this moment I put together that The Wife and I haven’t golfed together in nearly 18 months. It’s a hobby we’ve shared for 10 years, and we’ve regularly gone at least monthly when the weather allowed. But due to positive circumstances, we spent all of the 2025 golf season states apart.

The mission changes; Grab both bags, look for her ball mark necklace (a fruitless venture), pack now 2 bottles of water and ice packs, load both bags into the trunk, and set off on the arduous 10 minute haul to the local Muni.

Oak Glen Golf Course in Stillwater Minnesota is home to a par 72 Championship 18 hole course, and a shorter par 29 Executive course across the street. The Championship course plays off a 127 Slope rating from the whites, with a propensity for long and relatively open fairways with only a few ponds to contend with.

60° overcast and a damp atmosphere greeted us, which feels like perfect morning golf weather. We had secured a 10:40 Tee time online before leaving. This also proved to be fruitless, as when we checked in to the clubhouse we were met with the dreaded “We’re running about 15-20 minutes behind schedule, there was a tournament this morning, and we had more people sign up than we thought”.

Were I golfing alone, I’d have called it quits there. I’m stubborn; and when I want to do something, I don’t let hell or high water stop me. But golfing after an overfilled tournament at a local Muni is just begging to have destroyed teeboxes, hot dog wrappers and golf ball boxes everywhere, and a disgruntled clientele that I’d just as soon avoid. There are worse ways to spend $100, but for 2 and a cart I was really considering finding a different course and rolling the dice on availability.

But what’s a guy to do? When the spouse asks to golf, who am I to say no? We’re here, after all.

A small bucket ran $7, filled with just enough range balls to get the first layer of rust knocked off (like taking a scour pad to a 1993 Chevy Caprice). 10 minutes on the putting green got us a liar’s read of the short flat stuff. And then the wait really began.

We were blessed to have 2 Randoms to be paired with that were out for a good time (To Luke and Mason: Thank you for having the proper energy). But it took nearly an hour after our scheduled start to tee-off. Thank god I had my partner with me.

All of that lead-up is a compelling introduction to firing off a personal best round.

Were it so easy.

If I were even a hair more fragile, it would really put a damper on the old masculinity.

The fairways on the front 9 aren’t particularly narrow, but with a wet start the rough was unforgiving. The grass had the unenviable combination of firm soil with wet grass, leading to easily fat shots that bounced the club up to top, and no discernable way to take divots. The greens only got harder as they dried out, and out of the foursome none of us walked away with 2 putts on most holes.

The course length isn’t shocking, only 3,096 off the white tees. The greens pose some concavity challenges where being on the green doesn’t mean you have a line at the pin. The bunkers were firm, but I’ll give some relief with regards to the weather. The golf cart had a quirk where the gas pedal was more of a suggestion than an order.

The views were refreshing; a traditional American golf course tucked away in a semi-rural suburb of the damn-near north woods. Conifers and mid-90’s single family homes bordered the outer edge of the course disrupting a perfect view, but what remained was classic, good-ole’-fashioned northern Midwest golf. A small spattering of hazards (more for intimidation than actual course difficulty), bunkers with shallow lips making you play the contact game, and long sweeping hills that wouldn’t add much spice to an afternoon walk but make an approach from 135 more of a thinker’s game.

But all of that mattered very little to me, as I spent most of my time there celebrating the good shots with my Wife, who has been more than a first mate on the voyage that my golf game took in the past 5 years or so.

You see, my better half played softball for 14 years. You’d never know it just by a first glance, but my -let’s just say petite- wife drives the ball just as far as I do, and often times more. She can center-center a driver like it’s nobody’s business, and she has no qualms about running off a 240 yard drive striping the fairway. If I were even a hair more fragile, it would really put a damper on the old masculinity.

She has helped me find joy in golf. I used to leave every round ready to throw the clubs in a lake and give up. But after finding her as a partner, we’ve had more fun golfing the last few years than just about any other hobby. We’re a team out there. I’ve watched her break 100 for the first time, and she’s gotten to watch my best rounds too. Every couple has their hobby, and I’ve been blessed to have a spouse whose hobby is Golf.

I played poorly that Sunday, to be frank. I barely sniffed bogey anywhere, my irons game struggled with the conditions, and I didn’t have enough success off the tee to get me close enough to give a damn. My chipping game was more reminiscent of Wimbledon than golf, and my putting was lackluster. This wasn’t the fault of the course, this was the fault of the golfer. And I left that afternoon feeling a sense of joy and excitement for the season. Because, for the first time in 18 months, I had someone sitting in the cart next to me. 

All of this to say, if you’re a regular guy who views golf as “An Escape”, I’m willing to hear you out. But if you have the opportunity- nay, the luxury- of a spouse who’s eager to get in the cart with you and take you for 18, make sure to savor that chance. I may never have a caddy, but I know what it’s like having a partner out there, and fellas it is sweet.

Photo Credit: Sean Fagan