Furm's Take: A Round With Engle The Looper
By Cory Furman
Assistant Athletics Director, Messiah College
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Posted Aug. 12, 2008
Bryan Engle righted the author's wrongs during a recent golf expedition. Could he do the same on the PGA Tour?

Grantham, PA — Hey, Phil Mickelson! Want a little golf sense to go with that wedge magic? Excuse me, David Duval! Still looking for that final piece to the time machine headed back to 2001? And Sergio Garcia! Don’t you want someone to make those six-foot putts a little easier than quantum physics?

If so, do I have the answer for you!

Hire Bryan Engle as your adjunct caddy.

Okay, okay. I know what you’re all thinking. Bryan Engle is already employed as the head baseball coach at Messiah College. And you’re right, he’s pretty good at it. Tying the program record for wins (28) and advancing to NCAA Regional competition for only the third time in school history wasn’t too shabby this past spring, especially considering it was Engle’s first year at the helm. At only 26 years of age, he’s one of the youngest collegiate baseball coaches in the country — at any level.

But hear me out! His talents are multitudinous!

I first began hearing about Engle’s love for the game of golf — and those who carry the bags — through casual conversation. I learned that his parents had him tooling around area LPGA events by his sixth birthday, working as a standard bearer at several Lady Keystone Opens. (I then learned — through Google — that standard bearers are the people who carry around those portable leader boards at professional golfing events.)

“Those days probably fueled my love of the game,” Engle told me recently. “I love being inside the ropes. When you’re up close with players at that level, you get to see just how good they are.”

And with that, Engle was apparently hooked. He began caddying at Bent Creek Country Club (Lititz, Pa.) at the outset of high school, a job he continued for eight straight summers.

“I was an honors caddy there before too long, and I always double-looped,” he said. (A quick Googling of that term, and I knew he meant carrying two bags at once.) “You could make pretty good money off of tips, and I was able to set my own schedule around my baseball games and practices. I got finished with college, and I realized I really didn’t want that summer job to come to an end.”

By this point, I had heard enough. I lured Engle into playing a round of golf with me, hoping I could secretly extort his golf knowledge — in the rare event my stellar ability would need any assistance.

I needed assistance after just three holes of play. I was golfing horribly, posting double-bogeys on the first two holes and bogeying a relatively simple par-3 third.

“These greens are tough, hunh?” Engle asked me after I heinously misread a five-footer.

“Uh. . .they have me confused,” I uttered with a hidden agenda in mind.

“I’ll take a look at your line on the next green.”

My plan was hatched.

It must be made known that at this juncture, I fully expected Bryan Engle to be nothing more than a wannabe, a carbon-copy of the guy who sits in the local clubhouse watching the PGA Championship on a television with bad reception saying, “If I practiced as much as Padraig Harrington, I could win two majors in a row, too.”

But what happened was quite the opposite. Bryan talked me through a 12-footer on the fourth hole, lining me up and giving me a target to putt at.

My effort landed softly in the cup for par.

The same was true on the par-3 fifth hole, and again on the par-4 sixth. It seemed all I had to do was line up my flat stick the way Bryan instructed. Bottoms!

When I sprayed my tee shot wildly on the seventh hole, my ball came to rest in the middle of an adjacent fairway, with only a portion of our green viewable through thick pine trees.

CF: “Man, I’m not sure what to do here. How far do you think we are?”
BE: “Hit the five iron.”
CF: “Are you sure about that? It looks way farther than what I can carry with that club.”
BE: “Hit the five iron.”

Whoosh! (Sound of me hacking at my five iron.)
Plunk. (Sound of my golf ball landing softly on green. The correct green.)

By the time we had finished the front nine, I had parred five of the last six holes, salvaging a 41. That’s a very good score for someone that a. has only found time to play six rounds this calendar year and b. has a swing that looks to be the combination of an unfolding lawn chair and Elaine dancing on Seinfeld.

Of course, what I should have done was thrown Engle’s clubs into a pond during his break at the snack shop, forcing him into the sole role of my personal caddy on the back nine. Instead, through a combination of arrogance and ignorance, I elected to play the back on my own, figuring I was on fire.

Turns out I was doused. I shot a 46, my three pars coming by virtue of Engle going out of his way to read my putts anyway. Perhaps it was sympathy. Engle carded a 79.

“Caddying is so much more than just carrying a bag,” Engle told me after my dreams of breaking 80 were dashed. “You have to learn the player’s personality. You have to know when a guy needs to smile and loosen up and when they need to bear down and get focused. In a good player-caddy relationship, the caddy is the player’s psychologist, best friend and coach. It’s such a trust partnership.”

As I reflected upon the preceding three hours, I understood he was right. Engle’s easy-going personality had me swinging freely, and after just a few positive results I realized he knew exactly what he was doing. This was all despite the fact that neither of us had stepped foot on this particular golf course before we played. I firmly believe that, given the time to properly study and prepare for a course, Bryan Engle would have a bigger impact on a golfer than Fannie Mae has on the national economy.

But Engle’s experiences as a looper go far beyond jelly-armed, turf-destructionists such as myself, as he’s caddied for some quality players. Engle was on the bag of Craig Spence during the 2001 Hershey Open, a stop on what’s now known as the Nationwide Tour.

Spence is no slouch, spending time off and on the PGA Tour and winning the 1999 Australian Masters by one shot over some guy named Greg Norman. Spence birdied the 72nd hole to capture that year’s event, adding his name to a who’s who list of professional golfers.

“I was in the caddy tent that year at Hershey Country Club, just hoping to pick up a bag,” Engle said of his ’01 encounter with the Aussie. “I kept watching Craig swing on the practice range, and he was so smooth. He saw me watching him, and he approached me. His regular caddy was stuck back in Australia renewing his visa, so he needed someone. He just happened to spot me out of a crowd.”

What transpired was a professional relationship that lasted three years, as Spence asked Engle back on his bag at the 2002 and 2003 Hershey Opens.

The two successfully navigated converting yards into meters each year, and Engle even predicted Spence’s second-round score of 67 in their first tournament together.

“I knew we needed to go low to qualify for the weekend, so I wrote down ‘67’ on the scorecard,” Engle said. “After Craig shot exactly that on Friday, I showed it to him. He told me, ‘You better not be writing down 74 anytime soon.’”

Engle’s most are-you-kidding-you-really-did-that caddying moment came during the final hole of that tournament, as Spence found a fairway bunker off his drive. The two discussed club options and settled on an eight iron.

As Spence dug his feet into the sand and addressed his ball, Engle committed what normally is caddy suicide.

“Stop,” he said calmly to Spence.

“Hit seven iron.”

According to Engle, Spence shrugged his shoulders, stepped out of the bunker and exchanged clubs.

And Engle’s heart was now in his mouth.

“That’s just something you’re not supposed to do. . .ever,” Engle said, smiling. “As a caddy, you talk about what club to hit and then commit to the club. To put any kind of doubt in your player’s mind is just, well, stupid. And that’s to say nothing of the fact that I had known Craig Spence for exactly five days.”

But Engle had to live with his bravado. At that point, Spence was out of any chance at the tournament title, but an enormous gallery had gathered around the elevated green, complete with Engle’s friends and family.

If Spence went long out of the bunker, he would be in jail behind the green. Engle knew this, but something told him to open his mouth, anyway.

As he blasted his shot out of the bunker, the ball flight looked good. Neither Engle nor Spence could see the surface of the green from their location below, but as the ball landed, an eruption from the crowd let them know the result was spectacular.

Spence’s ball had rolled to a halt just two feet from the pin. As the pair approached the final green, Spence smiled at Engle and simply said, “Seven iron.”

So what if some PGA pro called Bryan Engle up, wanting a change in caddy for a tournament? Would the newly appointed leader of the Falcons baseball program consider it?

“That would be a dream,” Engle said. “If it happened during the summer, I’m sure I could rearrange my recruiting schedule to make room for something like that. I’d be there.”

Are you listening, Sergio? Your first major championship could be as easy as a quick trip to Grantham, Pa.

Coupled with a small finder’s fee for yours truly, of course.


Cory Furman is the assistant athletics director for public relations and marketing at Messiah College. His monthly column, “Furm’s Take” does not necessarily represent the views of Messiah College or the Messiah College department of athletics. Have a comment? Click here to send him an email.