Golf at Cascata (or How I Ejaculated After Hitting a $400 Driver)
Golf is so annoyingly Republican.
It’s an arrogant game played by rich people. It’s a criminal waste of precious water and land. It’s a firewall intended to preserve oligarchy. And it relies on minimum-wage making Mexicans to do all the landscaping and maintenance.
I despise golf. I hate private country clubs even worse. But this bitter resentment has nothing to do with politics. It’s because, when it comes to golf – I fucking suck.
I’m horrible.
Yesterday, I was granted a rare invite to play a luxury golf course called “Cascata.” Think of it this way. If Shadow Creek is the Maserati of golf courses in Las Vegas, then Cascata is most certainly the Lamborghini. This resort is so exclusionary that no signs are posted outside showing the way. It doesn’t advertise. It doesn’t have to. Cascata is the golf course for super high-rollers.
Carved into a rocky mountainside, the course is nestled unassumingly between Henderson and Boulder City. Walk-ins are not welcome. The greens fee is $350 per round — and that doesn’t include the cost of a mandatory caddy, which adds an extra whack to your wallet.
My misappropriated invitation came courtesy of two close friends — namely Marissa (probably best known as the tax accountant for many of the world’s top poker pros) and Matt Savage (international tournament director extraordinaire and TDA co-founder). Maryann Savage (Matt’s lovely wife) also blessed us with her presence. And of course, there was that costly caddy.
And so my story begins.
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