Right On Track

There are two ways to follow the progress of the University of Florida Golf Course renovation. You can stand on the freshly poured concrete apron in front of the clubhouse and look out over the 105-acre site, which is starting to look like a golf course again. Or you can go to the construction trailer, kick the mud off your shoes and ask for a copy of the weekly progress report. This report, prepared by project manager Tom Weber of MacCurrach Golf, is a simple timeline with all the construction stages listed in a column: drainage, irrigation, cart paths, grassing, etc. The projected schedule for each task is represented by a white box on a gray background. As work proceeds, each box gets shaded in according to how much has been accomplished (e.g., "cart path construction, 34%"). These shaded boxes, arranged on the page, resemble strings of railroad cars in a freight yard. Hence the term "construction train"—used by golf architects and contractors to describe the sequential progress of construction. "The train is a series of cars," Weber says, looking at his report for the latest week. "I don't know if it has an engine, but from this schedule you can see where we are and where we're going."

The train is a curious metaphor, in that some cars reach their destination before others pull out of the station. Rototilling was completed weeks ago, but the grassing of greens and fairways has not yet begun. Earthwork and the clearing of trees is 95% complete, but architect Bobby Weed still has four greens to shape before the drain-tile crew can finish. Weber ticks off more items: bunker construction, tee construction, cleanup and finish work. "Eighteen loads of TifSport sod are coming next week," he says, "so the plugging crew can start grassing the fairways. The first planting of the greens is scheduled for two weeks from now, but I think I can beat that...." Clack, clackety-clack, clackety-clack....

On paper the train moves from left to right and from May to September. On the ground it chugs from east to west, heading for a terminus in the northwest corner of the property. The directionality is a function of infrastructure. No hole can be grassed until it can be watered, and the course's new pump station is in the southeast corner, next to the retention pond. It makes sense, then, to follow the irrigation contractor, who installs and hooks up the pipes closest to the pump before moving on to the periphery. Another factor is the location of the staging area, the place where vehicles are parked and materials stored. To avoid damaging completed work, contractors like to work toward that point. Here, the staging area is in the northwest corner of the site, where a new maintenance shed is being built. At job's end Weber and his people will load up their stuff and pull right out onto 34th Street.

"We try to stay a couple of seconds ahead of the construction train," says Scot Sherman, associate designer for Weed Golf Course Design. "We're running down the tracks in front of the engine, and we don't dare slow down or everything will stop."

There is a genuine urgency, in other words, about every design decision, no matter how mundane. That's why Sherman keeps walking behind one of the four teeing grounds on the 1st hole, where a worker on a small tractor is grading the tee with the aid of a Topcon laser level. "Gosh, I hope this tee is square," Sherman says, making sure the two little pin flags centered in the front and back of the tee line up with the white pole in the center of the fairway, 850 feet away. "You wouldn't think that rectangular tees would be that hard, but they're a real challenge."

What makes these tees tricky is the fact that they are staggered from back to front, like 400-meter runners in the lanes of a track. The forward tees must be rotated slightly; otherwise they will point toward the right rough. "With free-form tees you don't have this problem, but we want this course to look decidedly old," Sherman says. He shakes his head. "I keep measuring it. I've got to believe it's right." Clackety-clack, clack....

A few hundred yards away Weed looks pensive as he watches workers lay sod on the banks of the 8th green. "Saddest day of the job, right here," he says. "I can't tinker any more." Up the hill, by the clubhouse, backhoe operator Martin Rosas excavates a bunker behind the 9th green while summer intern Ben Taylor uses a shovel and a rake to shape a "knobbie" between the sand and the putting surface. "This is something you won't notice until you have to play a little bunker shot to a pin on this side of the green," Taylor says. "This will make it very difficult."

Weed, in the meantime, has driven a cart up to the 8th tee complex, where he finds things not to his liking. From the championship tee he can't see the water hazard in front of the green; one of the intermediate tee boxes is either too high or too long. "You need to take that 3rd tee down as much as possible," he tells Weber. "I don't like that at all." Clack, clackety-clack....

To see where the train is going, you have to step back and find high ground. On this hot summer afternoon the view from the clubhouse is dynamic. Collars of bermuda grass call attention to greens and tees that were indiscernible a week ago. White-sand bunkers stand out like stars in a night sky. The big earthmoving machines are off to the east, their engines a faint rumble as they shape the 11th and 15th holes. "The train is fully extended now," says Sherman. "As we pull into the station, the engine will stop and all the cars will come in. We might be fully grassed in eight weeks."

In the old song you can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles. There's no whistle on this train, but make no mistake—we're getting somewhere.