There is something about hickory golf that makes people behave differently.
Perhaps it is the clubs. Perhaps it is the spiffy clothes. Or perhaps swinging a golf club that is more than a century removed from everything we now consider normal reminds us that golf was never supposed to be entirely about launch angles, ball speeds, and gaining another three yards.
Whatever the reason, from the moment everyone began arriving in Pocheon, South Korea, for the inaugural Korea Hickory Open Championship, it was obvious that this was going to be about much more than golf.
Held September 13~15 at the beautiful Hillmaru Golf & Resort north of Seoul, the event was hosted by the Korea Hickory Golfing Society (KHGS) as its first international hickory championship.
Golfers and delegates arrived from China, Hong Kong, Japan, Scotland, and, of course, Korea. For most, it was their first time in Korea and many had never met before. By the end of three days, you would have had a difficult time believing that.
That, I would soon discover, is one of the wonderful things about hickory golf.
From Day 1, everyone seemed determined to do this properly. And I mean properly.
The Korean contingent arrived wearing their best hickory outfits, including traditional Korean garments inspired by clothing from centuries ago. It was slightly surreal to imagine how ancient Koreans might have looked had they played golf at the turn of the 20th century.
The Chinese delegation was certainly not going to be outdone, arriving in its own wonderfully considered period hickory attire.
Then there was our longtime friend of KHGS, Mr. Shaun Smith from Scotland, who demonstrated that when it comes to traditional hickory golf attire, the Scots still know a thing or two.
There was an obvious sense of fun to it all, but also genuine respect.
This wasn’t simply a matter of throwing on an old cap for a photograph. People had clearly thought about what they would wear, how they would present themselves, and what they could bring to the occasion.
It was our collective little tribute to the history of the game, and as hosts, we were highly appreciative of everyone’s enthusiastic participation.
The opening day’s competition was the Canadian Four-Ball format, in which both players tee off before choosing one ball and playing alternate shots from there.
Considering that most players had never been paired with their partners before, you might have expected some awkward moments.
There weren’t many.
Instead, there was plenty of teamwork, encouragement, and, when things didn’t quite go according to plan, laughter. The merriment rarely seemed to stop.
That is another curious quality of hickory golf; where a poor shot with a modern club can ruin someone’s mood for three holes. Hit a questionable one with a century-old mashie, however, and everyone seems to find it rather amusing.
By the end of the round, China’s Mr. Jingsheng Tang and Ms. Chunghua Lin had emerged as our inaugural Canadian Four-Ball champions, followed by no less than four runner-up teams just a stroke behind.
I’m proud to say mine was one of them.
The scorecard, though, was only part of the reason we were there.
Hickory golf has a way of slowing things down, and perhaps that is part of its charm.
Throughout the round, we found ourselves admiring one another’s outfits and golf bags, picking up unfamiliar clubs and asking where they had come from or how old they might be.
More often than not, the answer came with a story of where an old mashie had been found, how a particular shaft had been restored, or why a certain club had somehow earned a permanent place in its owner’s bag.
Before long, golfers who had barely known each other that morning were walking down the fairway like old friends.
Despite the different languages and cultures within the groups, somehow very little seemed to get lost in translation. Good shots were cheered enthusiastically, bad shots elicited good-natured encouragements, and the laughter that followed were pretty much universal.
Golf took care of the rest.
By the time the first day’s play concluded and we gathered for the welcome reception, the mood had already changed from that of an international gathering of golfers into something considerably more familiar.
One particularly memorable moment came courtesy of Mr. Gaoyang Zheng from Tianmen, China.
An accomplished calligraphy artist, Mr. Zheng presented KHGS with a beautiful original work created to commemorate the inaugural Korea Hickory Open.
It was an extraordinarily thoughtful gesture, and one that captured what was becoming the theme of the week; of people bringing a small piece of their own culture to Korea and sharing it with others.
We had also received congratulatory video messages from the chairs and captains of hickory societies in Australia, New Zealand, and Germany.
Then came another familiar face to anyone who knows the modern hickory golf world. Along with his heartfelt well-wishes, Mr. Tad Moore had graciously sponsored a handmade hickory putter as the prize for the overall gross champion.
For a first-time tournament held thousands of miles from many of the established hickory golf communities around the world, those messages meant a great deal to us.
They made our little gathering feel connected to something much larger.
If anyone was expecting a quiet dinner after the first round, KHGS President Sangjun Oh apparently had other ideas. He took the stage with his rock band and proceeded to amaze the crowd by singing beloved tunes in English. Then Japanese. Then Chinese.
Watching golfers from several countries singing, cheering, laughing, and raising glasses together was one of those moments that would have been impossible to manufacture, no matter how hard you tried.
It simply happened. And that authenticity made it brilliant.
Before long, even the shyest individuals were grabbing the microphone to belt out karaoke songs in their own languages.
Nobody seemed particularly interested in going to bed as drinks were shared, stories exchanged, and countless invitations were made to visit one another’s countries.
Some of those promises may have become slightly more ambitious as the evening progressed.
By the following morning, the fashion had become even more impressive.
Our groups drew plenty of appreciative attention from other golfers around Hillmaru throughout the day. Most seemed genuinely curious about what we were doing, and questions about the clothes inevitably became questions about the clubs and hickory golf itself.
The weather for the first round of our two-day individual championship couldn’t have been more perfect. Clear early-autumn skies stretched over Hillmaru’s beautifully maintained signature courses, with the surrounding mountains providing the sort of backdrop that seemed particularly appropriate for golfers carrying century-old clubs.
And then something slightly unexpected happened.
I played well. In fact, I finished the first round in second place, only a shot off the lead. I wasn’t entirely sure I believed it myself, but Tad’s persimmon driver was giving my modern one a run for its money all day.
There was something exhilarating and slightly ridiculous about finding myself near the top of the leaderboard in our first Korea Hickory Open. I had been involved in organizing the event for months, discussing schedules, guests, logistics, dinners, and hundreds of other details.
Suddenly, I had a golf tournament to worry about, too.
When we entered the dining hall that evening, however, golf temporarily took a back seat.
Our guests were treated to a rare performance of traditional Korean music featuring the top artists from the National Gugak Center of Folk Music.
The response was immediate.
Their joyful singing, extraordinary musicianship, and command of traditional Korean instruments had an international room completely captivated. By the end, the crowd was calling for more.
For many of our overseas visitors, this was their first close encounter with Korean traditional music. Watching their reactions made the performance even more special for those of us from Korea.
And we weren’t finished.
Next came a professional fashion show presenting traditional Korean garments. The models and their individual styles were stunning, and the designs managed to retain the unmistakable character of traditional Korean clothing while looking entirely at home in a contemporary golf setting.
I wouldn’t be surprised to see something similar turning up in a golf or fashion magazine before long.
After that, there was even more singing and laughter, with representatives from every country taking their turn.
Nobody appeared particularly concerned that we had an early tee time the following morning.
For the third and final round, I found myself in the final group alongside David Cai and Sangjun Oh, the respective captains of the Hong Kong and Korea hickory teams.
Not exactly a bad group with which to spend the final day.
David, already a veteran of this wonderful old version of the game, proceeded to put on something of a clinic. His drives seemed to split nearly every fairway, while his mashie irons spent much of the day hunting flagsticks.
Sangjun wasn’t going anywhere either, as three birdies kept him chasing the lead all the way to the 18th green. As for me, I was simply trying to remain somewhere in the conversation.
Eventually, the scores told the story.
Clockwise from top left: David Cai (Pro division champion), Jingsheng Tang (Men’s gross champion), Jingsheng Tang & Chunghua Lin (Four-ball champions), Rong Fu (Women’s gross champion), Shaun Smith (Senior champion)
To my amazement, I somehow finished third, only two shots behind the champion, and one behind the runner-up, Sangjun Oh.
There were cheers, photographs, handshakes, and congratulations everywhere.
And standing there watching it all, the significance of those three days finally began to sink in.
I had been part of the organizing committee that planned and oversaw the first Korea Hickory Open, so I knew exactly how much heart and dedication every member of our society had invested over the previous six months to get us to that moment.
But watching everyone cheer and congratulate the winners made everything worthwhile.
We had set out to create an event centered on golf’s tradition, heritage, and fellowship, but ended up getting considerably more than we bargained for.
In three short days, new friendships had formed, stories and traditions had been exchanged, and invitations were extended to one another’s hickory events around the world.
What struck me most was that none of it felt forced.
The cultural exchange wasn’t something printed on an event itinerary. It happened naturally walking down fairways and taking photos together, through music and clothing, over drinks and food, and occasionally through questionable karaoke.
It was genuine. And perhaps that is what I will remember most about our first Open.
But like all good things, eventually it came to an end.
There were wistful goodbyes and promises to meet again. Some of our overseas friends were staying in Korea for a few more days, some for more golf and others to travel and explore the country.
For the rest of us, it was time to go home.
Looking back, I can genuinely say that Korea’s inaugural Hickory Open Championship was everything we had hoped it might be.
I am immensely proud to have been part of it, but even more grateful to have shared those three days with such a remarkable collection of people.
Which brings me back to where I started.
There really is something magical about hickory golf.
When I played it for the first time last fall, I wrote that golfers who had grown tired of the modern game should give hickory a try. Sure, golf is already humbling enough as it is, but the added challenge of swinging a century-old hickory club might be exactly what you need to rekindle your love for the game.
In a sport where we have a habit of walking off the 18th green dwelling on the bad shots and missed putts, there is something wonderfully refreshing about finishing a round of hickory golf and realizing that, somehow, it is mostly the good shots that come to mind.
So forget the carbon shafts, the launch monitors, and whatever new technology promises to buy you a few extra yards. Find yourself a set of hickories, gather some good company, and head out on a fine day. You may just discover that the game becomes a little simpler, the bad shots a little easier to laugh about, and the people playing it a little closer.
With the first Korea Hickory Open Championship now in the record books, we are already looking forward to next year’s. And if our first attempt taught us anything, it is that we have only just begun.
So consider this your invitation.
Bring your hickories. And be sure to brush up on your singing.
