Thousands and thousands of years ago, on the southwestern shores of what we now know as Lake Michigan (then known as “Good Place to Pee and Get Laid”) the morning fog ambled down the bluffs and revealed a emerald glen, destined to be known as Lake Park. It was on this site, that a chance convergence of pagan miasma and unstable molecular phenomena led to the creation of the Greg Postles Invitational. The GPI has evolved into the finest display of sportsmanship, brotherhood, and jocular country club chumminess, the world has ever known. I am proud to be associated with the pithy pathos that this event represents, and am proud to know that wherever I roam, people look at me and say to themselves, “There goes a GPI man!”

Being one of only two people in the world who attended both of the two most prestigious golf events in the year 2000...(the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach and the Greg Postles Invitational at Lake Park), I have the unique perspective to compare the two. There are a number of reasons why the GPI was better:

1) At the Open, I waited in line for 30 minutes to be able to relieve myself in a 3-foot by 3-foot Satellite Port-a-potty. At the GPI, I took a leisurely stroll through the park with marvelous views of Lake Michigan to a stately old pavilion where I had a 1,000 square foot men’s room all to myself.

2) At the Open, Karen and I each had a hamburger, chips and a beer. Total cost: $30. At the GPI, we had brats, chips, 2 beers and a cookie each. Total cost: $0.

3) At the GPI, if you’re having an enjoyable chat near the putting green and you miss your tee time, you just tee off later when you feel like it. At the Open, if you’re five minutes late for your tee time, you’re disqualified.

4) Finally, I’m sure there were many fine parties in the Lodge at Pebble Beach during the week of the Open, but no matter who was providing the entertainment, could it have possibly compared with Geoff Postles’ anecdotes about his music collection and concert experiences? I think not! About the only thing that might be more entertaining would be if Greg wears shorts to next year’s GPI.

Greg and Lisa, would you mind if I offer your services as tournament planners to the USGA for 2001?

Frequently Asked Questions about the Currie Cup


Q: Where did the Currie Cup come from?

A: As with all metal substances, the Currie Cup originally came from some type of mine.

Q: I meant, like, did it come from a store, or did Greg order it, or what?

A: It was provided to the tournament as a gift from Pat Currie and his sister, Sarah Walters.

Q: That was incredibly generous!

A: Yes, it was.

Q: What happens to the Cup in the off-season?

A: The Cup is sent, in its special crate, to elementary and junior high schools around the country where boys and girls of all races and creeds can marvel at the names of the winners, inscribed on the Cup, and actually touch the Cup, after, of course, first washing their hands.

Q: Why doesn’t the Cup bear the Currie name?

A: As you know, the Cup bears only the names of the winners of the Tournament, both men and women, from the first year of the Tournament’s existence right down to the 2000 tourney.

Q: But there aren’t any names on the Cup.

A: Perhaps they’ve been rubbed off by those damn kids.

Q: So it’s really just a shiny bowl?

A: I guess so.

How I Think It Happened

In the beginning was the word. And the word was Golf. Not many people know that. But if you think about it, what was God going to do? He had nothing but time on his hands. There was no TV. He couldn’t go to a movie. He hadn’t even created football yet. There was literally nothing to do. So God decided to play Golf. What a perfect pastime. He needed round balls (think planets, stars, moons, electrons, protons, neutrons, pebbles even -- think pebble beach) and holes (think black and worm, etc.), and the Universe came into being, because God thought “Golf.”

Now if you think about it, and I want you to do just that, “God” starts with “G” and “Golf” starts with “G” and “Greg” STARTS and ENDS with “G!” Coincidence? I think not.

But really, all I know for sure is that sometime in the 1970’s (which is a very long time ago now, but don’t get me started on time), I cavalierly invited Greg and Virgil to play a game of Golf at Lake Park. Greg took it from there. And aren’t we all glad he did?

Submitted to you, Greg, from your timeless and eternal friend,

My contribution to the Greg Postles Lake Park Golf web site is a huge thank you to the 6 hostesses. The Greg Postles Lake Park Golf Invitational is a high maintenance event. For the hostesses, it involves a lot of listening. And they do an excellent job. In addition, the hostesses perform a wide range of duties such as purchasing all the supplies and bringing them to Lake Park, score tabulation and checking, gathering of information such as names and addresses, tracking each foursome throughout their round, setting up the picnic, preparing and serving food and beverages, restocking supplies, answering questions, greeting guests and clean up. I probably left out a lot. They try to be everywhere that Greg can’t be on tournament day. Most importantly, they give me a day off one day each year.

Greg and I love the hostesses dearly, so remember guys . . . NO HITTING ON THE HOSTESSES!!!!!!

I would also like to extend a heartfelt thank you to all the guests that attend the tournament. Greg loves keeping in touch with the people he knows. It is important to him to have contact with his friends and relatives through his invitations and on tournament day. It makes Greg very happy to see everyone. But there is still NO HITTING ON THE HOSTESSES!!!!!!

Your picnic in the park is so great Greg. It’s like an annual diary entry:

“Went to Greg’s golf invitational today - late enough that I didn’t even have to consider golfing-checked out the progress of middle age in my peers compared to the indulgent smiles of the hostesses as we gawk at their latest manifestation of style -waited around to see if Greg would actually sit on one of the picnic benches or (someday maybe even kneel on the grass) to beg us to eat the rest of the food before dark. Hmmm-mmm, Another great day.”

‘Closed For The Season’

A dog runs across a golf green
soggy from January’s thaw,
and puts paw prints
at just the right places.


Someone will shoot
a hole-in-one here
in a few months, and
think they did it
all by themselves.

All’s Fair In Love And Golf

The night before the final round of a tournament,
Gene Sarazen received an orange necktie
from an anonymous admirer he believed to be
a Ziegfield showgirl, along with the note,


Don’t look for me in the gallery!
The perfumed notecard had a ps,
stating that the writer had high hopes
Sarazen would defeat his nemesis, Walter Hagen.


Gene naturally kept scanning the gallery, looking
for the ‘showgirl,’ which took a toll on his concentration,
as he realized a little too late, right about the time
Walter complimented him extravagently on his natty tie,
with a big grin, and a wink