Founding Members Gallery

Ryan Dahlstrom

Ryan Dahlstrom doesn’t just play golf—he lives it like it matters. Raised on the game by someone who taught him the swing and the swear words, Ryan brings grit, flow, and a sense of realness to everything he does. Whether he's chasing scratch scores or chasing after his kids, his energy is effortless, his loyalty deep, and his attitude pure FLWC: **** It. He swings hard, smiles wide, and shows up for the people who matter. Investor. Athlete. Fan. Founding Member. Ryan’s not trying to be legendary—he just happens to be.

Mr. Judge’s Note: “He’s the type who chips in from 40 feet, shrugs like it’s nothing, then compliments your form. Infuriating. Also: effective. He’s the guy you root for, even when he beats you—and he will beat you.”

Parker Deutschman

Some inherit swing mechanics. Parker inherited legacy. A third-generation member who doesn’t just play to compete—he plays to honor what came before. At just seventeen, he’s already putting up numbers, draining putts, and walking fairways with the kind of composure that usually takes a career to develop. His game is fierce, but his presence is calm. His four-letter word is RISE—because that’s what he does: from the tee box, from a bad lie, from every moment where most players fold. He plays the game his way… but never alone.

Mr. Judge’s Note: "Let me get this straight: the kid’s in high school, has a +2.3, and probably listens to motivational podcasts between holes. I don’t trust anyone that focused at that age. But if you're building a club with future legends, well—this one's already stretching into the archives. Begrudgingly impressive."

Evie McCarthy

Evie McCarthy moves like a breeze over Bentgrass—light, fast, and entirely in FLOW. A modern traditionalist with a sharp eye for the moment, she plays golf like she lives life: with rhythm, instinct, and a refusal to overthink. On any given weekend, she’s as likely to drop a one-liner as she is a birdie putt, blending creative strategy with an effortlessly competitive edge. Her four-letter word isn’t just a vibe—it’s a warning: if you’re not moving with her, you’re in the way. She wears FLWC gear like armor and attitude, because rewriting history looks best in vintage cut.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“She calls it ‘FLOW’—I call it showing up five minutes late with sunglasses and a preposterous level of confidence. But I’ll admit, it works. She plays like she’s late to brunch and still somehow makes birdie. Against my better judgment... I’m impressed. Just don’t let her near the archives without a chaperone.”

Franca Mascia

Franca Mascia doesn’t just walk into a room — she calibrates it. A natural competitor who thrives on rhythm and command, she carries GRIT into everything she does, from boardrooms to backswings. She’s the type who can read a lie, a line, or a person faster than most can read a menu. A fan from afar but a force up close, Franca plays life like a long par-4: smart, steady, and with just enough risk to make it interesting. Her calm hides an engine that never quite idles — a quiet drive that turns persistence into elegance.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Mascia has that unnerving quality of looking entirely in control — like she’s three moves ahead and enjoying every second of your confusion. She calls it grit; I call it strategy wrapped in charm. If she ever takes up competitive golf full-time, the rest of us might as well take up bowling. Still, it’s hard not to admire someone who makes composure look like a weapon.”

Jonathan “Coach” Coachman

Jonathan “Coach” Coachman doesn’t just follow the game—he narrates it, elevates it, and occasionally humbles it with a laser-straight 5-iron. From the bright lights of television studios to the quiet shadows of a par-3 at dusk, Coach knows that timing is everything—on camera, in life, and especially in the swing. His life word is FLOW, the force that carries him from showtime to tee time without missing a beat. On the course, it’s SHOT—because when it’s his turn, he takes it. Traditional in tone but fearless in form, Coach carries the calm confidence of a man who’s been around greatness long enough to recognize it in himself. His FLWC gear doesn’t just represent membership—it broadcasts legacy.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ah yes, Mr. Coachman. A man so composed, I nearly mistook him for one of those clubhouse statues—until he started roasting my bunker play on national television. Smooth delivery, sharper wit, and just enough restraint to make you wonder what he’s not saying. If he’s not already in the Hall of Fame, he’s certainly coaching someone who is. Consider me unimpressed… and entirely convinced.”

Andy Herman

Andy Herman’s swing may not make headlines, but his presence sure echoes across generations. A weekend golfer with roots as deep as the archives, Andy is the kind of Founding Member who was told stories of the Club before he ever broke 90. Descendant of the game and keeper of family tradition, he’s the guy who plays the long game—on and off the course. To Andy, the word “legend” doesn’t mean viral. It means remembered. And when asked if he prefers bombs off the tee or three-putt blowups, he simply replies: “Depends on the day.” That’s FLWC honesty.

Mr. Judge’s Note: “He shows up in floral shirts and family legacy, which is impressive… if you like things that last. He once parred a hole with a borrowed wedge and a borrowed tee—and still claimed it was the best shot of the weekend. No flair, no fuss, just history in motion. Begrudgingly… I suppose that counts.”

Pete Deutschman

Pete doesn’t just tell stories—he architects movements. With the mind of a marketer and the tempo of a short-game tactician, he walks the course with intent. He’s part strategist, part storyteller, part closer. Whether he's pitching a client, launching a brand, or grinding through 18, Pete plays the long game. His four-letter word? WORK. And it shows—in his swing, in his smile, and in the way he helps everyone else do better.

Mr. Judge’s Note: “Deutschman… yes, the one with the media brain and the golfer’s vest. Honestly, I tried to roast him—but the man’s already doing it to himself with that routine. And yet... he keeps winning. Annoying. Effective. Very FLWC.”

David Yarbrough

David Yarbrough doesn’t just walk his dog—he walks the walk. A creative executive and content craftsman, he treats every day like a tee box under pressure. A proud weekend warrior with a filmmaker’s eye and a four-letter word for every finish, David lives by the motto: “Whatever happens, happens.” Equal parts light-hearted and locked-in, he’s the kind of golfer who’ll drop a perfect punch shot between two pines—then pause to film it like it’s Sundance-worthy. His story is already written in the FLWC Archive. All he’s doing now is adding chapters.

Mr. Judge’s Note: “Ah yes, Yarbrough. The kind of member who could film a five-putt and still make it look like a Nike ad. I’m not sure what’s more polished—his short game or his hair. But fine, I admit it… he’s got style, a swing, and somehow makes me smile. Begrudgingly approved.”

April Deutschman

April Deutschman is what happens when defiance and elegance go out for cocktails and decide to start a legacy. An investor with instinct, a fan with impeccable taste, and a fierce advocate for showing up as you are, she walks the line between tradition and rebellion with a calm confidence. Her four-letter word? **** It. Not as surrender—but as freedom. In life, in golf, in business—April plays with joy, leads with depth, and swings like the moment deserves it. She’s not here for show. She’s here because she knows how things really get done.

Mr. Judge’s Note: “Well, she ordered a drink larger than her backswing and somehow still managed to sink a 15-footer while quoting Spinal Tap. I rolled my eyes. Then I poured one myself. A bold inclusion—and an even bolder reason I’m outnumbered yet again.”

Michael Mohammadi

Michael Mohammadi didn’t just inherit a swing—he inherited a code. Raised by someone who taught him the secret of the game and the four-letter word that defines it, Michael carries tradition with a smirk and a stripe. A descendant of the club, he brings an old-school soul to a new-school vibe—unapologetically American, fiercely loyal, and just funny enough to let you think he’s not about to take your money on the 17th. His four-letter word, “****,” isn’t a curse—it’s a compass. Whether he’s teeing off in high-top spikes or closing deals for Imperial Dade, Michael’s approach to life and golf is the same: truly his own.

Mr. Judge’s Note: “Imperial, is it? The only thing more dangerous than a man in distribution is one with distribution of temperament. Mohammadi’s got lineage, grit, and the gall to smile while doing it better than you. I’ll allow it—but don’t expect me to laugh at his jokes. They’re actually funny, and that’s suspicious.”

Barbara Mohammadi

Barbara Mohammadi walks the line between legacy and liberation. Taught to golf by someone who knew how to curse with purpose, she holds the game’s traditions close—but isn’t afraid to challenge them with a quiet, knowing smile. Her four-letter word? ****—because she knows the real wisdom is knowing what to hold on to and what to let go. Off the course, she’s a calming presence with a sharp wit, proof that the next generation of Four Letter Word Club doesn’t just swing hard—they think deep.

Mr. Judge’s Note: “Barbara once said ‘**** it’ after a birdie on the previous hole resulted in a bogey (PB*U). Then she sank the next one. Four times in a row. I’ve reviewed the footage. It’s statistically improbable—and emotionally infuriating. But I must admit: if she’s the future of this club, we’re in (mostly) good hands.”

T.J. Dammrich

T.J. Dammrich plays the game — and life — with a steady rhythm. A weekend golfer with the mind of an investor and the resilience of a leader, T.J. wears both hats well (sometimes literally, and always with ****). His four-letter words say it all: PLAY, RISE, WORK, LOVE — a mix of joy, grit, and grace under pressure. Whether he’s watching Narcos at cruising altitude or grinding out a long par save on a windy Sunday, he’s the kind of member who respects the moment and moves it forward. Don’t be fooled by the easy smile — he’s here to earn it, every round.

Mr. Judge’s Note: "Mercer Oak, eh? Sounds like a law firm and a bourbon brand had a baby. T.J. may wear the smile of a gentleman, but there’s a quiet storm in that swing. The kind of guy who plays a fade, tells the truth, and tips his cap before you realize he just took your lunch money. Welcome, Counsel. The Club could use more steady hands — and fewer mulligans."

Carol Madigan

Carol Madigan didn’t pick up a club to prove anything — the game wasn't already part of the family legacy. But what she did bring was her signature word: RISE — and not just out of bunkers. Carol is the kind of Founding Member who cheers the loudest from the clubhouse, keeps the stories alive around the dinner table, and wears the gear like she was born into it (because she kind of was). Her golf swing may be less talked about than her pineapple cocktails, but her presence is legendary. Family historian. Moral compass. Style icon. She reminds us why we’re here: to rise, together.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"Carol’s never laid up on a story in her life. While others scramble for par, she’s serving punchlines and piña coladas. If lineage is currency, she’s got an endless tab. And though I’ve never seen her pull a 7-iron, I’ve seen her lift a room — and frankly, that’s a rarer gift. Welcome, Madigan. The club just got a little classier. And a lot more fun."

Jeremey Shumaker

You won’t find Jeremey Shumaker posturing in the clubhouse or fluffing his resume on the tee box. He’s as real as the grain on a muni green and twice as patient. Whether he’s navigating a tight par-4 or a tight shift with American Medical Response, he brings the same approach: steady, unfiltered, and unshakably himself. His four-letter word? REAL. Because when the moment calls, he answers—not with pretense, but presence. The man shows up. Always has.

Mr. Judge’s Note: “Finally—someone who doesn’t pretend to be better than they are. Or worse. Shumaker plays like he parks: confidently crooked but always in the lines. Honest, gritty, probably owns too many Breaking Bad hoodies. We’ll allow it.”

Mike Pruitt

Mike Pruitt didn’t just show up—he’s the kind of guy who brings the whole damn foursome with him. A traditionalist at heart, Mike’s game is quiet, calculated, and confident—never too high, never too low. His four-letter word is GIVE, and he lives it: investing in people, stories, and second chances, on and off the course. As co-founder of 319 Golf Society, he blends heritage with heart, creating space for others to find their game. You won’t hear him boast. But you’ll feel his impact in every handshake, every nod, every silent approval from the back of the room.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"Mike Pruitt has the presence of a man who’s already played the back nine—and still made his dinner reservation on time. He’s not flashy. He’s foundational. One of those rare members who understands that ‘quiet’ and ‘strong’ aren’t opposites. And while I’d never say it to his face... if there’s ever a time to bet on tradition, Pruitt’s your parlay."

Kip Knight

Kip Knight is the guy you want in your foursome when the round gets weird, the putts get testy, or the wind won’t quit. A marketer by trade and a grinder by instinct, Kip plays golf like he lives: with GRIT, LUCK, and a stubborn refusal to fold. His wardrobe says “USA,” but his spirit says “Earn it.” He shows up—early, ready, and smiling—and somehow leaves you wondering how he pulled off a back-nine comeback with a borrowed wedge. Whether it’s coaching CMOs or finishing birdie-bogey-birdie after a breakfast ball, Kip doesn’t fake the funk. He shows up, period.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"Kip Knight looks like the kind of guy who'd sell ice to a caddie and then tip him with wisdom. He’s got the grin of a politician, the game of a guy who plays just enough to scare you, and the uncanny knack of turning every cart ride into a TED Talk. Damn it… I like him. Just don’t let him near the merch table without adult supervision."

Norman Leonard

Norman Leonard doesn’t just tell stories—he engineers them with the precision of a short game maestro and the chaos of a double-crosswind on a par three. A creator, comedian, and behind-the-scenes architect of moments that stick, Norman’s four-letter word is: REAL. He doesn’t posture, he produces. Doesn’t rehearse, just delivers. On the course, he's the type who calls a penalty on himself with a smirk—and then sinks the next putt just to prove a point. Whether it’s pitching a pilot or rescuing a ruined round, he’s the guy you didn’t realize you needed until you're already laughing at the story you’ll tell for the next ten years.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"Leonard is what happens when the sharpest guy in the writer’s room actually shows up to play. His swing? Unclear. His grip? Improvised. But his timing? Surgical. If he’s on your team, you’re winning—just don’t ask how. I hate how much I enjoyed inducting him. And worse—I suspect he wrote this note himself."

Kevin Bailey

Kevin Bailey doesn’t just show up—he studies the terrain, leads the round, and politely refuses to take the gimme. An executive with the comic timing of The Office and the quiet resolve of someone who’s seen both the top and the trap, Kevin’s golf game reflects his life philosophy: adaptable, deliberate, and always with a dry sense of humor. He hasn’t had a handicap in years, but don’t let that fool you—he’s the one they call when the round matters. FLWC gear suits him because he understands the truth: the real short game starts between the ears.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"Kevin Bailey enters the club like a man who already knows the bylaws—but would rather rewrite them as satire. He’s got the posture of a closer, the vibe of a strategist, and the kind of laugh that means he saw the punchline coming five moves ago. We needed someone who makes silence feel smart. Unfortunately, we got Kevin. So now we have to pretend he’s both."

Kris Linville

Kris Linville plays the game with the kind of joy that can’t be taught — but can be toasted. He’s a walking paradox: serious about the game, unserious about himself. His four-letter word? PLAY — because every round is better when it’s loose, confident, and at least one club too aggressive. A weekend golfer with a sitcom sensibility, Kris brings a smooth swing and smoother sarcasm to every tee box. He doesn’t just wear the FLWC gear — he gets it. Golf is short-game suffering with a grin, and if you ask him, the fairway is just the scenic route to the punchline.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"Kris calls himself a 'weekend golfer,' but let the record show: the man’s midweek trash talk is elite. He’s the kind of member who arrives with a headcover that talks back and a playlist better than your swing. A 12-handicap with a +4 vibe. I tried not to like him. Then he made par on a bet and bought everyone birdie juice. Damn it. He belongs."

Charles Andrews

Charles Andrews knows something most golfers forget: joy is a strategy. A retired legend with a backswing older than some of our members' TikTok accounts, Charles brings a calm swagger to every round. His word is PLAY — and he means it. From the parking lot handshake to the last putt, Charles keeps it loose, keeps it real, and keeps you honest. He’s equal parts Spinal Tap and Scratch Tap-In, and he’s got the GHIN to back it up. If you find yourself in a cart next to him, just listen. Somewhere between the stories and the sand traps, you’ll learn how the game was meant to be played.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"Charles claims to be retired, but the man's tempo is still fully employed. His pre-shot routine is shorter than most swing thoughts, and his smile makes you believe you’re not about to get hustled. Spoiler: you are. He brings laughter to the tee box and wisdom to the walk — and if you’re lucky, he’ll even teach you something between swings. Welcome, Charles. You’re the reason this club was built."

Mike Backstrom

Mike Backstrom didn’t just inherit the game—he internalized it. He values what to say after a bogey and as a lawyer is not a stranger to self expression. Mike brings GRIT to the course and everything beyond it. A weekend player with executive instincts, he respects the traditions but rewrites the script every time he tees it up. Steady, thoughtful, and unshakably present, his swing is like his philosophy: nothing wasted, nothing forced. You might beat him on the front nine, but you’ll never outlast him on the walk in. And you’ll never forget the look when he drains one to close.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"Backstrom walks like he’s been here before—because he has. His demeanor is presidential, his punchlines are punctual, and his short game has no interest in your feelings. I questioned his swing once. He didn’t respond. He just hit it stiff and tipped his cap. Classic. The Club’s better with him in it—even if I’ll never admit it again."

Douglas Redding Jr.

Douglas Redding Jr. plays with something rare in the modern game: intention. Not yet 30, he’s already a student of the old ways—raised on Sunday final rounds, but fluent in YouTube swing theories and short-game YouTuber chaos. His four-letter compass? GRIT. Not just the kind that keeps you grinding through a double, but the kind that makes you stick around after the round, helping clean up even if you didn’t make the mess. His swing is compact, his vibe is cool, and his sense of tradition runs deeper than his fairway divots. If you see him out there, you’re either chasing him—or learning from him.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"Kid dresses like a Tour pro, talks like a vet, and plays like he's got something to prove—which, let’s be honest, he probably does. I saw him line up a birdie putt while sipping a Good Boy and quoting Seve. I didn’t know whether to laugh, nod, or give him my vest. In the end, I just added his name to the wall. He’ll earn the rest."

David Roach

David Roach was taught this game by someone who understood that golf isn’t about perfection — it’s about presence. A descendant of the Club, David wears CALM like a badge and plays the game the same way he lives: centered, focused, and unshaken by the chaos around him. He’s the guy you want in your group when the round goes sideways — a quiet nod, a steady swing, and a reminder that this game, like life, rewards those who keep walking. His swing may not always save him, but his mindset does. Every. Single. Time.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"Roach walks like he’s already read your mind — and forgiven you for it. Doesn’t say much, doesn’t need to. I’ve seen him lip out a 12-footer, smile, and still carry the group through the next four holes. Calm? No. That’s not it. The man’s tranquil. Which makes me suspicious. But even I have to admit — he's earned his vest."

Vikki Redding

There are members who talk the talk, and then there’s Vicki—who calmly walks the long path, with grit in her heart and joy in her step. Her four-letter word is a rotation, really: GRIT, PLAY, HOPE, LOVE—whichever the moment calls for. A quiet force with a backbone forged from life experience and a playlist that swings from NPR to Narcos, she’s the kind of presence that doesn’t just make a club better… she makes it worth joining. A fan from afar, sure—but don’t let that fool you. This one’s got tournament DNA in her blood.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"She showed up already knowing the rules, but didn’t need them to feel welcome. A rare case of someone who can quote Narcos and give a damn in the same breath. I didn’t see it coming—and I like that.”

Craig Skinner

There are members who talk the talk, and then there’s Vicki—who calmly walks the long path, with grit in her heart and joy in her step. Her four-letter word is a rotation, really: GRIT, PLAY, HOPE, LOVE—whichever the moment calls for. A quiet force with a backbone forged from life experience and a playlist that swings from NPR to Narcos, she’s the kind of presence that doesn’t just make a club better… she makes it worth joining. A fan from afar, sure—but don’t let that fool you. This one’s got tournament DNA in her blood.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“He’s coached champions, mentored leaders, and somehow still manages to beat me on the back nine with a borrowed putter. I had my doubts—until he handed me a towel and a lesson without saying a word. Damn it, he's good.”

Aaron Hodson

There’s no mistaking it—Aaron Hodson plays life the same way he plays a tricky dogleg left: with intent, instinct, and an eye for the underdog. A weekend golfer with the mind of a coach and the grit of an executive, Aaron’s four-letter word is BOLD, because why else step into the arena? From the boardroom to the tee box, he’s swung his way into stories worth retelling—stories where the odds were long, the lies were questionable, and the finish was unforgettable. He doesn’t just play the game; he mentors it, markets it, and occasionally roasts it with a wry smile. When Aaron shows up, so does possibility.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Here comes Hodson—blazer sharp, swing aggressive, and optimism dangerously high. I once saw him miss a 6-footer and smile about it. Either he’s playing the long game… or he’s cracked. Still, anyone who backs the underdog and dares to lead with love has my attention—just don’t ask me to agree with his club selection.”

Jake Newman

Jake Newman plays the game like he’s been here before—and he has. A coach, creator, and keeper of the quiet moments, Jake holds fast to the traditions of golf while absorbing its chaos with calm. His swing might hide the fire, but make no mistake—he burns with it. For Jake, the four-letter word is about showing up, shutting out the noise, and doing the damn work. Whether he’s coaching from the sideline, building from behind the scenes, or grinding it out over eighteen, Jake doesn’t just respect the game—he earns it. One gritty, timeless round at a time.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"Jake keeps his emotions in check—unlike the rest of you walking meltdowns. He respects the game, honors the grind, and still finds time to smile through it. It’s unsettling. But I suppose, if someone has to model composure, it might as well be a Newman. Just don’t let it go to your head, son."

Kehli Bowen

Kehli Bowen doesn’t just teach the game—he lives it, breathes it, and breaks it down like game tape. A coach and content creator with a sharp eye for the small stuff that makes the big difference, he’s walked more fairways than most folks have walked parking lots. Kehli’s four-letter word is TRUE, and it shows in his swing, his storytelling, and his steadfast way of showing up—on and off the course. He’s the kind of guy who can pull a lesson out of a lip-out and make it sound like a masterclass. One minute he’s quoting stats from every pro tour imaginable, the next he’s cracking a joke mid-range session that you’ll be thinking about on the 19th hole.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Bowen claims to respect tradition—and I believe him, mostly because he’s got enough plaques behind him to start his own hall of fame. He’s the kind of member who calls a penalty on himself... and then uploads it to Instagram with analysis and a hashtag. Fine by me—as long as he doesn’t try to give me a swing tip.”

Michael Suydam

Michael Suydam is the kind of guy who once stood in front of a marble statue in Rome and whispered, “You call that a legend?” A strategist by trade and a competitor by instinct, his four-letter word—“****”—isn’t just a reaction, it’s a philosophy. When life chips him onto the fringe, he finds the line, trusts the stroke, and rolls with it. His swing shows up like his opinions: strong, deliberate, and without apology. A descendant of old-school grit with a wardrobe built for the future, Michael is proof that legacy and irreverence can share the same locker.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“He once tried to coach me on how to hold a grudge properly. Said I was too subtle. Anyone who makes a statue look underdressed and still manages a near birdie deserves a spot—barely. He’s in. But if he ever tries to give the bust in the archive a motivational speech again, we’ll have words.”

Davis Collins

Even at a young age, Davis Collins plays like someone who’s been studying the game since it was whispered across links in Scotland. A decorated high school champion, Davis approaches golf—and life—with the steady hand of someone twice his age. His four-letter word is silent but understood: respect. Respect for the grind, for the moment, and for every four-footer that separates a tournament win from a long ride home. He’s not loud. He’s not flashy. He’s the kind of player who lets the scorecard—and his swing—speak for itself.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"Finally—a player who actually knows what to do with a medal. Young Collins may not say much, but he just might be the clubhouse whisperer we never knew we needed. Keep your eye on this one—he’s got fewer words and more wins than most members twice his age. I hate it. I respect it."

Dustin Hasty

Dustin Hasty isn’t your typical teenage golfer. Part content creator, part competitor, part storm whisperer—he’s the kid who can scramble from the trees, fix his swing on the turn, and still have a clip trending by the time he taps in on 18. His four-letter words? GRIT and CALM. Somehow, he lives both. Golf isn’t just a game to him—it’s a battleground for composure, precision, and the occasional creative save that has no business working but somehow does. There’s a quiet confidence in his game, and a growing legend in his highlights.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“GRIT and CALM? In the same round? I’ve seen grown men cry into their club covers trying to pull that off. Hasty’s the kind of player who fist bumps you after a birdie and a bogey—just to remind you it’s all part of the plan. Disgusting levels of balance. He’ll be dangerous once he gets a vest.”

Darren Herman

Darren Herman’s swing doesn’t just come from the tee box—it comes from years of grinding, building, giving, and daring to play where others hesitate. Raised by the kind of golfer who taught him both how to line up a birdie putt and how to carry himself like a legend-in-the-making, Darren channels grit and grace with every shot. He’s a modern throwback: equal parts analyst and artist, boardroom and bunker. His four-letter words tell the story: WORK, PLAY, REAL, BOLD—each one earned through decades of showing up, staying calm, and giving a damn. You might catch him quoting Narcos mid-round, but you’ll never catch him faking the funk.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Darren claims he hasn’t written his most-told golf story yet. That either means he’s too humble, or he’s sitting on a finish the rest of us couldn’t handle. Either way, the man wears more four-letter words than a caddie in August—and somehow, they all fit. Begrudgingly impressive.”

Brandon Rosenthal

Brandon Rosenthal has coached through wins, losses, and more than a few weather delays—but never once missed the moment. Equal parts motivator and mischief-maker, he brings a locker room mindset to the green: prep hard, laugh harder, and never forget to thank the grounds crew. His four-letter word? Still pending, probably because he’s testing a dozen options on his team like it’s a new drill. Whether in sneakers or spikes, Brandon’s presence at the club is undeniable—steady, spirited, and fully in the game.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ah yes, the coach. Every club needs one, apparently. Brandon treats the fairway like a whiteboard and the bunker like a timeout. I had my doubts… until I saw him give a pep talk to a worm trying to cross the cart path. Inspirational, I suppose.”

Josh Stamer

There are players who play the course, and then there’s Josh Stamer—who rewrites it as he goes. A true descendant of the Club, Josh learned the game alongside the values that make it matter: grit, grace, and a dash of defiance. His game is rooted in tradition, but he doesn’t just follow the rules—he upgrades them. Whether he’s mentoring, building movements, or coaxing a putt to drop on 18, Josh plays with soul and shows up with love. His four-letter words reflect a deeper truth—one that flows through the stories we tell, the moments we mark, and the people we show up for. Legacy isn’t given. It’s earned. And Josh is here for both.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Stamer walks in like he owns the place—which would bother me more if he didn’t somehow make everyone around him better. He’s got that ‘give a damn’ energy, the kind that builds something real. Normally I don’t trust people who smile that much... but in his case, I’ll allow it. Begrudgingly.”

Noah McMahon

Noah McMahon has built a life on GRIT—the kind that shows up on and off the course, sleeves rolled up, with a stare that could silence a heckler mid-backswing. A weekend golfer with boardroom precision, Noah blends old-school reverence for the game with a sharp instinct for rewriting the playbook. He doesn’t just respect tradition—he improves it, one swing and one story at a time. Whether he's advising philanthropies or marking his ball with quiet conviction, Noah wears the FLWC badge like it was passed down from a grandfather who once beat Hogan and never spoke of it again.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ah yes, Mr. McMahon. A man who likely breaks down a par 5 the same way he dismantles a term sheet—methodically, mercilessly, and with a half-smirk. I had my doubts about another ‘executive golfer’ until I saw his follow-through and his Rolodex. Turns out grit isn't just a word he wears—it’s his tempo. Carry on, Noah. Just don’t start giving motivational speeches on the tee box.”

Jeff Cova

From corporate boardrooms to vineyard views, Jeff Cova has never been one to play the short game in life—or golf. A descendant of the Club in spirit and swagger, Jeff’s four-letter code is a mix of GRIT, GIVE, and GOOD: a man who knows the stakes, honors the legacy, and still takes time to pour the perfect post-round glass. His swing might not be textbook, but his timing—on and off the course—is impeccable. Whether mentoring emerging leaders, curating once-in-a-lifetime experiences, or chasing par at sunrise, Jeff plays the game with presence and purpose. A quiet legend, loudly respected.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Jeff Cova once handed me a bottle of wine and told me it would ‘change how I see the game.’ He wasn’t wrong, though I suspect he meant life, not golf. The man’s got a swing that whispers wisdom and a wardrobe that could teach a masterclass. He’s one of the few I’d allow to speak in metaphor on the 17th tee.”

Matt Gray

Matt Gray doesn’t swing a club as often as some, but he’s been part of the Four Letter Word Club in spirit since the first whispered “Fore!” echoed across a quiet fairway. Raised on stories from the greens and weekends spent soaking in the sacred rhythms of the game, Matt embodies what it means to be REAL. With a calm eye for justice, a soul-deep appreciation for the moment, and a commitment to showing up for others, his legend isn’t told in birdies—it’s carved in how he moves through the world. Whether cheering from the edge or dropping into the mix, Gray flows with purpose, always ready to rise.

Mr. Judge’s Note:"Gray doesn’t always play the game, but he sees it clearer than most who do. Somehow, the man manages to dress like a local and think like a legend. If golf had a conscience, it might sound like Matt—equal parts ‘Spinal Tap’ and Sunday sermon. Just don’t ask him to keep score."

Aaron Day

Aaron Day didn’t stumble into tradition—he tracked it like a hunter and folded it into his swing. A CEO with a family legend on the course and a well-earned spot in the FLWC tapestry, he plays with the kind of stoic fire that doesn’t need to be loud to be lethal. “SHOT” is the word he lives by—because he’s never waited for permission to take one. You’ll catch glimpses of him respecting the game’s deepest rituals, honoring his roots, and when the moment calls for it—grinding quietly while the rest of the course makes noise.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Day’s one of those fellas who doesn’t say much, but when he does, everyone leans in. His swing isn’t flashy, but it gets the job done—and usually with less damage than my own therapy bills. Traditional, respectful, and secretly competitive. I’d call him a gentleman, but let’s not make that a habit.”

Anthony Ruba

Anthony Ruba is the kind of golfer who brings a full heart and a half-full tumbler to the tee box. A weekend player with a streak of quiet mischief, he plays with the ease of someone who knows the point isn’t perfection—it’s presence. His four-letter word is PLAY, and that’s exactly what he does—whether he’s threading a shot through a tree-lined fairway or quoting The Office mid-backswing. Golf isn’t just a game to Anthony—it’s a chance to laugh, reconnect, and occasionally “**** it” when things go sideways. His favorite story involves a duffed chip that turned into an accidental eagle, and his FLWC gear? Worn as a badge of rebellious optimism. He respects the traditions—but he’s here to write new ones.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Anthony approaches the game the way a golden retriever approaches a sprinkler—enthusiastic, soaked, and utterly unbothered by form. And yet… the ball listens. I’d be annoyed if I weren’t so entertained. I suppose there’s room in this Club for joy—even if it comes dressed in dad jokes and unearned birdies.”

Kenny Herman

Kenny Herman doesn’t hesitate—he takes the shot. On the course, in life, or when ordering tacos at a roadside stand at 2 a.m., his motto is simple: no fear, full send. A weekend warrior with a sharp eye and sharper wit, Kenny’s four-letter word is SHOT, and it defines more than just his swing—it’s a way of living. The kind of guy who quotes Narcos on the front nine and drops a quiet birdie on the back, Kenny brings energy, instinct, and just the right amount of chaos. He wears FLWC because he’s rewriting the rules while still tipping his cap to tradition. If you’ve played with him, you’ve heard the story—the long par 5, the risky second, the purest strike of his life—and you’ve probably had to pick your jaw off the green after watching him pull it off. Again.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Kenny is either the luckiest aggressive player I’ve seen or the most aggressive lucky player. He doesn’t overthink—mainly because he never thinks he’s wrong. But credit where it’s due: the man can hit a shot that makes you wonder if recklessness might actually be a strategy. I’m not convinced, but I’m watching.”

Michelle Herman

Michelle Herman plays the game the way she lives: with presence, perspective, and just the right amount of panache. A self-proclaimed “fan from afar” who’s spent more time analyzing swings than taking them, she still understands the essence of the sport better than most inside the ropes. Her four-letter word is PLAY, and she means it—not in a frivolous way, but in the bold, intentional sense that joy is a strategy. On the rare days she picks up a club, the outcome depends on the mood—sometimes it's a short game masterclass, sometimes it’s a walk with commentary. Her FLWC gear isn’t just merch—it’s a quiet nod to her philosophy: honor the game, have fun doing it, and don’t forget to smile between shots.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Michelle claims she’s a ‘fan from afar,’ which is suspiciously humble considering the natural tempo I’ve seen on her swing. She says it’s all about joy—which is funny, because her playing partners look quietly terrified when she lines up a 9-iron. She’s either sandbagging or spiritually evolved. Either way, she belongs here.”

Travis Irving

Travis Irving doesn’t just play the game—he coaches it, lives it, and somehow finds time to watch it with the reverence of a scholar and the giddiness of a kid at his first ballgame. A weekend golfer, coach, and cultural observer rolled into one, Travis moves through the world with intention. His four-letter word is CALM, but don't mistake that for complacency—he plays with JOY, gives with purpose, and respects the TIME and tradition behind every round. Whether he’s quoting The Office between swings or breaking down LPGA strategy mid-range session, Travis is the guy who reminds everyone why they love the game in the first place. He wears FLWC gear because it’s not just about the sport—it’s about the story, the stance, and the stand you take while wearing it.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Travis is the kind of player who makes you feel better just standing next to him—until he chips in from a bunker and acts surprised. He’s a calm presence in a chaotic foursome, the kind of guy who can quote Ron Swanson and Gandhi in the same round. I don’t trust it. But I admire it.”

Reid Champagne

Reid Champagne plays it old school—quiet hands, quiet eyes, quiet scorecard. A retired gentleman with a poker face and a swing that’s been seasoned by decades of fairways and forgiveness, Reid’s four-letter word is TRUE, and it fits. He doesn’t bluff, posture, or preach—he just shows up and lets his game (and the occasional dry zinger) do the talking. Golf for Reid isn’t about flash or flair—it’s about just doing the right thing, every time, whether anyone’s watching or not. His stories are few but legendary, and his style is simple: respect the traditions, respect the group, and maybe—maybe—crack a grin after a long putt drops. He wears FLWC because it mirrors the code he’s always followed. No need to say much when your game has already spoken.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Reid’s the type who marks his ball with a penny older than most of the field, lines up like he’s reading scripture, and walks off with par before you’ve finished your backswing. Doesn’t speak unless it matters. Doesn’t miss unless it really doesn’t. If the Club had a north star, he’d be somewhere just below it—quietly pointing the way.”

Logan Shumaker

Logan Shumaker didn’t stumble into the Four Letter Word Club—he was summoned by legacy. A fan from afar and a family legend in the making, Logan represents the next generation: plugged in, unpredictable, and proudly unfazed. His four-letter word? Well, let’s just say it starts with an “F” and ends with “it”—and that sums up his vibe perfectly. Depending on the day (and maybe the playlist), he might stripe one down the middle or swing like he’s being chased. His card reads “Both,” and that’s not just about his game—it’s a philosophy. Logan wears FLWC gear the way some wear tattoos: to say he belongs, even when he’s making his own rules. He’s not rewriting history—he’s remixing it.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Logan lists his location as ‘in your walls,’ which is... alarming. He’s got the swagger of a caddie who’s never looped a round but still knows your yardage. I don’t get it. I probably won’t. But he’s in—and if nothing else, the kid makes chaos look cool.”

Jon Nowinski

Jon Nowinski plays by a different rhythm—part strategist, part storyteller, part bassist in the band no one realizes is controlling the vibe of the whole room. A professional creative with a deep reverence for tradition and a tendency to remix it, Jon’s four-letter word is GIVE, and that’s what he does—on and off the course. Whether it’s lending a hand, building a brand, or quietly making sure the culture stays authentic, Jon shows up. He might not drop his most-told golf story, but you’ll hear it eventually—woven into a visual, whispered in a beat, or stitched into a cap. His FLWC gear isn’t for show—it’s a signal: he knows what this is. And he’s helping make sure the rest of the world does too.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Jon’s got the beard of a blacksmith, the style of a jazz producer, and the silence of someone you probably underestimated—until he redesigned your entire legacy mid-round. I didn’t expect a creative director to care this much about tempo. But here we are. Respect.”

Sarah Foster

Sarah Foster is the kind of member who brings quiet integrity to a noisy world. A self-described fan from afar, she’s less about the swing and more about the stance—on principle, on culture, on doing what’s right. Her four-letter word is JUST, and it shows. Whether she’s behind the scenes crafting stories or at the table making sure everyone gets a fair shot, Sarah’s presence is felt even when her voice is soft. Her favorite show is Parks & Rec, and that tracks—equal parts thoughtful, witty, and ready to call out a double bogey of injustice. She wears FLWC gear not as a flex, but as a flag—a signal that she stands for the spirit of the club, where tradition and transformation shake hands.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Sarah gives off the energy of someone who’s already written the rulebook, read it twice, and revised it for fairness. She doesn’t say much, but when she does, the room changes. I find that unsettling. And, regrettably, impressive.”

Eli Marcus

Eli Marcus is the kind of member who doesn’t just believe in luck—he knows how to earn it. A lifelong observer and seasoned strategist, Eli approaches life and golf with a steady hand and an even steadier eyebrow raise. His four-letter word is LUCK, but don’t be fooled—behind every bounce in his favor is a well-researched decision, a perfectly timed risk, or a subtle nudge in the right direction. As a marketer and cultural reader, Eli’s game is quiet, classic, and quietly calculated. He respects the rules, respects the moment, and respects that not every story needs to be told with volume. He wears FLWC because it reminds him of what matters most: preparation, precision, and showing up with just enough mystery to keep ‘em guessing.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Eli walks like he’s got the inside track on tomorrow’s tee times and a backup plan for the weather. Never overreacts, rarely misses, and somehow always ends up exactly where he meant to be. Either he’s the smoothest operator in the room, or the luckiest. My money’s on both.”

David Ferguson

David Ferguson carries himself like someone who’s already been through the storm—and took notes. A marketer, executive, and student of near-misses, he embodies the word CALM with the kind of presence that makes even the twitchiest foursome slow their breath. His style? Traditional. Intentional. Internal. He doesn’t swing wild, and he doesn’t chase. He shows up, measures twice, and delivers with quiet precision—whether in the boardroom or the bunker. His most-watched shows are sitcoms, but his personal narrative leans more Stoic comedy with a late-round redemption arc. David wears FLWC gear not to stand out, but to signal a deeper truth: that honoring the game, your people, and the moment is enough.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“David’s got that ‘still waters run deep’ energy—though I suspect there’s an occasional rip current beneath the surface. Probably the only guy here who could write a self-help book, lead a keynote, and sink a 10-footer in the same afternoon. I'd be suspicious if he wasn’t so damn composed.”

Ellen Sirull

Ellen Sirull doesn’t just walk the line between wit and warmth—she hosts a petting zoo on it. A lifelong storyteller with a heart as big as her laugh, Ellen is the type of marketer who still believes in good—the kind you do, the kind you wear, and the kind you hope rubs off on others. She's more “Best in Show” than best in score, but her golf stories—when told—tend to feature a goat, a grin, and a gentle reminder that joy is part of the game. When she wears Four Letter Word Club gear, it's not to make a statement—it’s because it aligns with the quiet conviction she’s carried since before we all tried to brand everything.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“I suppose every club needs a moral compass, even if hers comes with goat yoga and a deep appreciation for mockumentaries. While some members rage against the unfair bounce, Ellen smiles, thanks the grass, and donates to charity. I’ll allow it… but only because she didn’t name her four-letter word ‘cute'.”

Marty Deutschman

When Marty Deutschman steps onto the green, you’re not just watching a round—you’re witnessing a legacy. The kind of man who measures his shots with the same precision he applied to decades of family dinners, business deals, and backyard chipping contests. A true believer in the power of GOOD, TRUE, and GIVE, Marty lives by a code older than most country clubs and sharper than most short games. Whether he's reminiscing about the family foursome or quietly coaching a grandkid on grip pressure, Marty isn’t just part of the Club—he is part of its foundation.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ah yes, Marty. The kind of gentleman who can out-class, out-grit, and outlast anyone without ever raising his voice or his score. I’ve seen bunkers crumble under his kindness. If golf had a Constitution, he’d be its preamble.”

John Militello

John Militello never bothered with the straight line when the zigzag had better views. A creative force with a marketer’s edge and a jazzman’s soul, he’s known for blending instinct and intellect—on the course and in life. His four-letter arsenal includes GRIT, FIRE, SOUL, and HOPE, but it’s GIVE that quietly defines him: always making space for others to be seen, heard, or helped. Whether it’s an underdog win in a scramble or a spontaneous riff on a Strat, he’s got the rare blend of focus and flair. His style leans traditional, but with a rebellious twinkle—and it’s that tension that makes him unforgettable.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Militello… a name that sounds like it should be leading a charge or bottling marinara. Instead, he’s bottling lightning. I’ve watched this one hustle across fairways and deadlines with the same wild determination. Too creative to be contained, too loyal to be dismissed. He wears hope like a vest—wrinkled, slightly out of fashion, but undeniably his. Against my better judgment… I like him.”

Brooke Beard

Brooke Beard doesn’t just play golf—she helps rebuild golfers. A bodywork specialist by trade and a grinder by nature, she’s as likely to be realigning your spine as she is draining a ten-footer for par. Her four-letter word is WORK—and not the hashtag version. She’s built a life (and business) around helping people move better, feel stronger, and swing freer, all while finding time to needle her clients mid-round. Her legend? One-part therapist, one-part threat to win the net division, and all parts relentless. She wears FLWC gear because it reflects who she is—earned, honest, and not afraid to show up messy and figure it out mid-match.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“I’ve seen plenty of players try to stretch before a round. I’ve seen far fewer actually know what they’re doing. Brooke does. Which makes her both a danger to your ego and your excuses. If she ever figures out how to adjust her short game the way she adjusts a hip flexor, we’re all in trouble. Until then, I’ll keep standing crooked and muttering ‘Good game’ while she outgrinds us all.”

Robbie Deutschman

Some people swing for the green. Robbie swings for the grandkids. A retired educator with a smile that calms storms and a teacup labeled “Mimi,” she’s the soul of any foursome—even if her bag’s more likely to hold snacks than wedges. Her four-letter word? LOVE—for family, for tradition, and for the beautiful chaos of watching the next generation tee it up. She’s never needed a GHIN to know her worth, and her golf stories? They’re about watching, cheering, and giving—always giving. If you catch her wearing FLWC gear, it's because legacy matters more than leaderboard finishes.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“She claims she’s just a ‘cheerleader,’ but if emotional stability were a club, she’d swing it straighter than you ever could. Mimi doesn’t need to yell fore—she already taught the rest of you how to listen. I’ve seen Masters winners with less grace and better posture. Carry on, Ms. Deutschman. Just don’t expect me to start drinking tea.”

Julie Doleman

Julie Doleman may not have grown up reading greens or reciting Bobby Jones quotes—but she’s shown up to life with a kind of GRIT that would make any caddie proud. A global force with a warm laugh and a sharper edge than your favorite wedge, she’s the kind of member who doesn’t just watch from the clubhouse—she rewrites the rulebook from afar. She may not “know what this club is,” but she belongs in it more than most. Her game (and life) are defined by resilience, instinct, and the willingness to finish strong, no matter how the front nine looked.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ah yes, the mysterious Ms. Doleman—who claims she’s ‘never heard of this in her life’ and yet somehow made it to the member wall faster than half the country. Classic GRIT play. Probably finished her onboarding while solving a global crisis and boarding a flight. She’s got the polish of a pro and the unpredictability of a good bounce. I'll allow it.”

James Parker

James Parker isn’t just a weekend golfer—he’s a walking contradiction with a swing that’s half executive precision, half jam-band improvisation. His life and game are built on GRIT and PLAY, with a love for tradition wrapped in a wink of rebellion. A devotee of Spinal Tap and Best in Show, James keeps his sense of humor sharp and his short game sharper. Whether he’s closing a deal, sketching a chord progression, or lining up a 12-footer for par, he brings LOVE, TIME, and GIVE to every pursuit. He may not say much, but he plays like he means it—and dresses like he’s got a tee time and a concert backstage pass in the same hour.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“GRIT, PLAY, LOVE… He sounds like a motivational poster wrapped in performance fleece. And yet—he shows up, he follows through, and his vest game is borderline iconic. If you hear soft jazz coming from the tee box, it’s just James rewriting par with a bit of soul. I'll allow it.”

Mark Cobb

Mark Cobb doesn’t just play golf—he plays life like a seasoned caddie with a Ph.D. in perspective. A retired “Professional Grandpa” with a surfer’s soul and a barstool philosopher’s wit, Mark approaches the game and the grandkids with the same four-letter word: GIVE. He’s the first to show up, the last to leave, and always the guy who makes sure everyone else is having a better time than him (which is saying something, considering he usually is). His game? Somewhere between poetic and prehistoric depending on the beverage count—but you’d never know it by the way people light up when he walks into a room or onto a tee box.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“I’ve seen a lot of swings in my day—some elegant, some delusional. Cobb’s is a mix of both, laced with generosity and a slow backswing that suggests he’s either contemplating the meaning of life or trying to remember where he left his wedge. Either way, he showed up, he gave, and—begrudgingly—I admit: the Club is better for it.”

Daniel Kraft

Daniel Kraft brings a rare quiet confidence to the Club—part marketer, part musician, part method actor in a Wes Anderson film we haven’t seen yet. A weekend golfer with the soul of a jazz saxophonist, he walks the fairway like it’s a gallery floor. His four-letter word is SOUL, and whether he’s lining up a putt or leading a brainstorm, he brings unexpected depth, patience, and a disarming grace to the room. He doesn’t say much mid-round, but if you ask him about the one time he birdied 17 at dusk with only a 3-iron and a gut feeling, you'll get the full cinematic retelling—scorecard optional.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Daniel Kraft? The lad plays golf like he’s scoring a film scene—moody, measured, with far too many layers for a par-4. I’ve seen quieter swings in church pews. Still, anyone who wears our gear with reverence and carries a soul instead of a sand wedge deserves a nod… even if I’m not quite sure what key he’s playing in.”

Lynn Nelson

Lynn Nelson doesn’t just show up—she shows what it means to live fully. A lifelong golfer with the fire of competition and the grace of a soul who’s seen it all and still chooses joy, Lynn plays the game like she lives life: boldly, truly, and with grit. Her approach to golf is refreshingly honest—some days, it's poetry in motion; others, a reminder that humility is part of the game. Whether mentoring the next generation or standing tall after a bunker betrayal, Lynn wears the vest (and her FLWC brushstroke) with calm, courage, and unapologetic heart.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Miss Nelson swings with more intention than most men enter marriage. She’s got grit in her bones and that look in her eye that says she’s seen more triple bogeys than your therapist’s heard bad ideas. I find her optimism… unsettling. But even I can admit—she’s earned her place here. Just don’t ask her for a mulligan. She won’t take it, and she’ll beat you anyway.”

Rick Goodman

Rick Goodman plays golf the way he lives—steady hands, sharp instincts, and just enough mischief in the margins to make you wonder what he's plotting next. A weekend warrior turned executive statesman, he’s got a four-letter code for life: TRUE—a trait that shows up in every handshake, drive, and decision. On the course, LUCK shows up too, but Rick will be the first to remind you that luck favors the prepared… or at least the guy who doesn't chunk his wedge on 17. Whether he's wearing his FLWC gear to command a boardroom or break 80 at his home club, Rick's presence speaks volumes—quietly. And if you ask about his golf story, he’ll shrug and say it depends on the day. Translation: You’ll want to play your best game when he's in the group.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Rick Goodman. A banker who bets on par saves and karma. Wears his vest like a coat of arms and walks like he's been running meetings since the Eisenhower era. I’ve seen fewer mulligans from a priest, and less modesty from a miracle worker. Still, the man knows his way around a round. He’s in. Begrudgingly… but in.”

Jason Mowery

Jason Mowery doesn’t just play golf—he brings GRIT to the green and SOUL to the stories that follow. A weekend warrior with a boardroom swing, he balances the heart of a family man with the edge of a competitor who’s seen enough to know when to go for it. Depending on the day (and the lie), he’s either plotting a safe par or pulling off something miraculous from the rough. Jason’s a blend of REAL talk, TRUE form, and that elusive FLOW we all chase. You’ll find him in FLWC gear not just because of what it stands for—but because he does. A quiet force, a family legend, and someone who gives more than he takes, Jason’s the kind of guy you want in your foursome and your foxhole.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Mowery? The man’s got the swing tempo of a metronome and the patience of a saint… which is wildly suspicious. He listens more than he talks, wins more than he brags, and wears his FLWC vest like it was issued in the womb. If you beat him, he’ll shake your hand. If he beats you, he’ll offer to carry your bag. I don’t trust it. I admire it—but I don’t trust it.”

Nils Toledo

Nils Toledo doesn’t swing for the gallery—he swings because he means it. A creative force with executive precision, Nils brings WORK to everything he builds and GRIT to every round he plays. On the course and in life, he’s the type who respects TIME, makes his SHOT, and still finds space to GIVE. Known for his love of storytelling, sarcasm, and getting things done, he’s a modern craftsman with a classic edge. He hasn’t written his favorite golf story yet—and that’s exactly the point. Wearing FLWC gear isn’t a flex, it’s a flag. A quiet declaration that you're here for the culture, the craft, and the chaos… in that order.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Toledo. A name that sounds like it belongs on the side of a train and a face that looks like it’s already thinking three edits ahead of your last sentence. Doesn’t say much—until he does. Then it’s either genius or something you’ll be quoting under your breath three holes later. He’s sharp, he’s calm, and worse… he’s kind. I remain suspicious. But I’m listening”

JR Weimann

You don’t just play with JR Wiemann—you enter a masterclass in discipline, rhythm, and quiet fire. A coach through and through, he brings WORK to every round and RISE to every student who crosses his path. He’s the kind of guy who shows up early, repairs your divot when you forget, and drills a birdie putt with a smile that says, “act like you’ve been there before.” For JR, LUCK is earned, HOPE is taught, and GOOD is a daily practice. His gear may be traditional, but his legacy? Unfolding with every swing, student, and sunrise over the range. You’ll find him in FLWC gear because he doesn’t just believe in the mission—he embodies it.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Wiemann. The man’s so calm, I checked his pulse before the back nine. Classic grip, textbook posture, and the kind of gaze that says 'I've coached tougher cases than you, kid.' He respects tradition—which is suspicious these days—but I’ll allow it. He’s the coach you wish you had, the playing partner you can’t shake, and the kind of member who makes this club look... respectable. Dammit.”

Alex Katz

Alex Katz plays the kind of weekend golf that tells stories Monday through Friday. A joyful presence on the course—unless you catch him on a three-putt kind of day—Alex embodies his chosen four-letter word, PLAY, both in life and golf. He’s the guy who brings the snacks, the speaker, and somehow still drains a slippery par save with one hand in his pocket. Watching The Office on a cross-country flight, quoting every line, he’ll have you laughing all the way from takeoff to touchdown. He wears FLWC gear for both tradition and rebellion—because sometimes the best way to honor the game is to enjoy the hell out of it.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Alex plays like a man who believes joy and scorekeeping are mutually exclusive. He’s the first to tee off, the last to care, and somehow still ends up with honors on the next hole. I rolled my eyes—then marked him down as ‘dangerously likable.’ I’ll allow it. Begrudgingly.”

Josh Kritzler

You can tell a lot about a man by his grip—on a golf club and on a room. Josh Kritzler has both. A weekend golfer with the instincts of an operator, he approaches each round like a board meeting with the wind. Some days, he’s chasing birdies; other days, he’s just chasing balance. In golf and in life, it all depends on the day—and how he’s playing. A blend of investor insight and clubhouse wit, Josh’s style rides the line between sharp and laid-back. He’s a ‘Legends’ guy in title and temperament, equally likely to close a deal or drain a 20-footer. For him, wearing FLWC gear isn’t just a flex—it’s a signal to the real ones that tradition can evolve and still keep score.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ah yes, Mr. Kritzler. The kind of man who brings a PowerPoint to the tee box. I was prepared to dislike him, honestly. But then he striped a 5-iron, quoted Spinal Tap, and corrected my stance in one hole. Fine. He can stay. But if he uses the phrase ‘Q3 momentum’ mid-round again, I’m calling a penalty stroke.”

Jason Cole

Jason Cole didn’t just inherit a swing—he inherited a standard. Taught to golf and to give a damn in equal measure, he walks the fairway with a head full of wisdom and a heart full of “do better.” A marketer by trade, a truth-teller by nature, and the kind of guy who’s equally fluent in Parks & Rec quotes and club selection. His four-letter words aren't just clever—they’re a code: BOLD. REAL. TRUE. HOPE. GOOD. JUST. He swings like someone who’s been taught that effort matters, but grace under pressure matters more. A descendant of the club in both spirit and story, Jason wears FLWC gear not to show off, but to pass it on.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Cole, eh? He’s got the ‘I was raised right’ look—and the swing to back it up. Spotted him fixing a divot with the precision of a surgeon and the humility of a caddie. Rare combo. Still not sure if he’s here to join the club or quietly reform it. Either way… I’m watching him.”

Scott Perry

Scott Perry isn’t just a golfer. He’s a livewire. The kind of guy who can be at a tee box and on tour (with a band) in the same week. A true descendant of the club—taught by those who knew the game and the grind—Scott lives by a code that reads like a mixtape: GRIT, FLOW, WORK, HOPE, LOVE, and a whole lot of FIRE. His swing may change with the day, but his soul stays true. Whether he’s producing content, crafting campaigns, or chasing a birdie on the back nine, Scott embodies the modern American original—an executive with calluses, a marketer with a backswing, and a vibe that’s all-in. The four-letter word he carries? **** It. Because some days you play to win, and some days you play to live.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Scott Perry shows up dressed like a back nine rock concert, which is frankly more entertaining than most club tournaments I’ve endured. I rolled my eyes—until he striped a 4-iron and made the putt. I still don’t trust the man’s fashion sense, but damn it, the guy’s got soul. And torque.”

Drew Malm

Some people inherit a set of clubs. Drew Malm inherited the way. Raised in the tradition of whispered advice, quiet confidence, and short-game grit, Drew plays like a man who knows the story behind every bunker and the name of every ghost in the clubhouse. He embodies the word TRUE—on the course, in business, and everywhere in between. The kind of guy who makes the game look effortless when it’s going well, and laugh-worthy when it’s not. Drew doesn’t play golf to win. He plays to remember. And maybe—if the mood’s right—to remind someone else how it’s supposed to be done.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Malm plays like he’s been here before—probably because he has. He’s got that rare combination of nostalgia and nerve, like a man who respects the rules but rewrites the margins. I rolled my eyes when he walked in, but I’ll admit it... he wears history well.”

David Herman

David Herman is the youngest Founding Member to walk onto the historic greens of the Four Letter Word Club, but don’t let the age fool you—this kid has more composure over a missed 5-footer than most adults have in a boardroom. A content creator with more instincts than analytics, David lives in a swirl of culture, commentary, and cross-handed chips. His four-letter word? TBD—because he's still figuring it out, and that’s exactly the point. Whether he’s on the course, online, or on a mission to break into the next big wave of influence, he’s already rewriting the playbook for what it means to grow up in the club.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“I judged him by his age. Then he lipped out a 60-footer, looked up, and said ‘bad read’ like a Tour veteran. I stand corrected. The future just showed up in sneakers and a hoodie.”

Jeffrey Stanga

Jeffrey Stanga didn’t just inherit a love of the game—he inherited the grit, tradition, and emotional restraint that came with it. An executive who respects the long walk and the longer silences, he plays golf like he lives life: hard when it counts, true to himself, and without a need to explain. Raised by someone who showed him both how to grip a club and how to handle the real world, he’s become a quiet force—a modern embodiment of everything this club once whispered about in the locker room. His four-letter code is REAL, but it could just as easily be HARD, TRUE, or JUST—each worn like a patch earned through rounds that matter. He wears FLWC gear not for attention, but for alignment. When he speaks, you listen. When he swings, the course listens.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Jeffrey plays like he’s already judged you. And odds are, he has. You won’t hear him complain about a bad lie, because he’s had worse in business and still showed up to play. He’s the kind of member who reminds us all to button up, stand tall, and shut up. Respect.”

Gerik Degner

Gerik Degner has stared down markets, missed birdie putts, and, most impressively, kept a straight face through it all. As an investor and executive, Gerik plays his cards—and his irons—close to the vest. His four-letter word: NEAR, because every close call in business or golf is just another swing at glory. He’s a traditionalist on the course, the kind who still marks his ball like it’s sacred and doesn’t say a word unless it's worth saying. But don’t let the composed demeanor fool you—beneath the calm is a guy who’s been through it, bounced back, and always finds himself right there... near the top, near the cup, near greatness.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Gerik plays like a man who's weathered both recessions and rain delays—quiet, precise, and dangerously patient. I’d bet against him, but frankly, I value my money too much. He may not talk much, but his 7-iron has opinions.”

Ted Gleason

Ted Gleason has spent a lifetime respecting the traditions of golf — a coach, mentor, and steady presence in the game who believes in finishing what you start. His four-letter word is TRUE, a reflection of the way he carries himself on and off the course. In golf, he plays with quiet conviction, never folding, never flinching, and rarely showing more than a calm nod after a big putt. His vibe is classic: understated, disciplined, traditional. The kind of man who’d rather let his players, his students, and his game speak for themselves. To Ted, golf is not just a sport but a proving ground for grit, composure, and character. His legend? An underdog win — the kind of story that lives longer than the scorecard.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ah yes, Gleason. The coach who never cracks, never shows, and never quits. He probably irons his socks before a round. Too traditional for my taste, but I’ll admit—TRUE fits him. Annoyingly steady, frustratingly composed… the kind of guy who beats you before you even notice the match has started. Fine. He belongs.”

Ben Rogers

Ben Rogers lives at the intersection of golf and content, a natural storyteller whose swing is as much about joy as it is about score. A creator at heart, he brings the same energy to the fairway that he does to a camera—REAL in every sense, PLAY at his core. He thrives in moments where others tense up, finding humor in a shanked wedge and celebration in the rare birdie bomb. For Ben, golf isn’t just tradition, it’s a stage—a chance to show up fully, entertain, and remind everyone that the game should be as fun as it is frustrating. His presence guarantees laughter, his legend promises a few viral clips, and his membership seals him into the tapestry of the Club.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Rogers thinks golf is a content channel. The man squats over a putt like he’s filming a TikTok tutorial, and somehow he makes it work. He laughs too easily, plays too loosely, and yet—there’s a kind of charm to it. Begrudgingly, I’ll admit: he belongs here. But if he starts narrating his own backswing, I’m walking out.”

Nick Quirke

Nick Quirke walks a line few can balance—weekend golfer, marketer, creator, and artist all rolled into one. His game, like his work, is about rhythm: when he’s in FLOW, it looks effortless. He trusts in LUCK, though he knows it only finds the prepared, and he carries CALM with him like a quiet shield, no matter the storm. Nick respects the traditions of the game, but he’s not afraid to write new ones, blending heritage with reinvention. Whether it’s strumming a chord, sketching a line, or lining up a drive, he brings the same steady presence and understated creativity. His legend is built not on spectacle but on the art of making things feel natural.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Quirke is one of those maddening types who makes everything look easy. Effortless swing, unbothered demeanor, probably wins closest-to-the-pin without even caring. It’s suspicious, really. Still, I can’t fault his poise—he’s calmer than I am, and I resent it. Fine, he’s in. But if he starts humming while putting, I’m out.”

Kyle Janes

Kyle Janes embodies the spirit of the weekend golfer—equal parts competitor and storyteller, a fan of the game as much as a player of it. His love for sports runs wide, from the WNBA to the PGA, and it shows in the way he approaches golf: attentive, analytical, and always rooting for a good outcome, whether it’s his own shot or someone else’s. He holds a respect for golf’s deep traditions, but also believes in writing new ones, carrying forward the spirit of the game while putting his own stamp on it. Though his swing might not always cooperate, his loyalty to the game never wavers. For Kyle, being a Founding Member is less about perfection and more about belonging to a living, evolving tradition.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Janes is the kind of member who probably has more stories than birdies, and frankly, that might be the point. He’s earnest, loyal, and he treats the game with respect—almost too much respect, if you ask me. Still, I’ll allow it. Just don’t expect me to clap when he calls a Saturday round ‘the Masters.”

Joe Negrey

Joe Negrey carries himself with the calm confidence of a man who has built a life on flow—in business, in golf, and in spirit. An investor and executive by trade, Joe finds his balance on the course, where his game is less about force and more about rhythm. His four-letter word, TRUE, reflects both his respect for tradition and his pursuit of authenticity, a principle that guides him well beyond the fairway. Off the course, Joe’s taste leans cinematic—think Breaking Bad or Narcos—and his wit is as sharp as his drives. Wearing FLWC gear isn’t just about style; for Joe, it’s about signaling that he belongs to a tradition of golf that honors the past while creating something new.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Negrey. An executive who preaches ‘flow’—though I suspect his handicap card might tell a different story. The plaid shirt says approachable; the sharp eyes say he’s reading your market position while lining up a putt. I don’t trust a man who watches Narcos for ‘relaxation,’ but credit where due—he brings a steady hand to the Club. Begrudgingly, I tip my cap.”

Mark Nelson

Mark Nelson is a sailor who picked up golf as a second act and never looked back. Known as the “oldest surviving rookie,” he plays with the steady composure of someone who has weathered more storms than most of us could imagine. His four-letter word in life is CALM, a quality he brings to both the course and the clubhouse, no matter how high the winds are blowing. In golf, his word is TRUE—because he believes the game, like the sea, demands nothing less than honesty. When he’s not navigating fairways, he’s laughing along with The Office or Parks & Rec, or retelling “the funny one” from his golfing tales. Mark wears FLWC gear because, as he puts it, he’s lived the traditions—and still insists on writing a few new ones.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Nelson claims to be a rookie, though it’s clear he’s been around longer than most of the bunkers on this course. He’s steady, unshaken, and far too calm for a man who three-putts as often as he does. Still, when you’ve got the eyes of someone who’s stared down storms at sea, I suppose a missed fairway doesn’t rattle you much. Begrudgingly, I’ll call him an anchor.”

Lena Proctorn

Lena Proctor believes in one word above all: PLAY. For her, golf—and life—are about finding joy in the moment, even when the stakes feel heavy. A marketer by trade and a fan of the game from afar, she approaches the sport with the same spirit she brings to her work: curiosity, energy, and a touch of creative flair. Her golf word is TRUE, a nod to her belief that the game reveals character more honestly than most boardrooms ever could. She hasn’t yet written her “most-told” golf story, but you get the sense it will involve equal parts laughter and determination, the kind that makes everyone at the table lean in. She wears FLWC gear as a way of declaring she belongs—not because of scores posted, but because of joy shared.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Proctor chose PLAY as her word, which is charming until you realize she means it. She plays when it’s raining, plays when it’s tough, and even plays when the rest of us would rather call it a day. Some might call that unserious—I call it annoyingly admirable. Reluctantly, I’ll allow her laughter in the clubhouse. Lord knows we need it.”

Steve Sanders

Steve Sanders doesn’t waste time with pretense. His word in life is REAL—a promise to show up exactly as he is, whether he’s walking into a boardroom, stepping onto the first tee, or laughing at his own “funny one” in the clubhouse. As a marketer and executive with a deep love for sports, he approaches golf like he does business: respect the traditions, but don’t be afraid to write new ones. His golf word, TRUE, reflects the honesty he finds in the game—a reminder that the ball never lies, and neither does he. He wears FLWC gear because it embodies what he believes: a club that’s both truly American and unafraid to stand for authenticity.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Sanders calls himself REAL, which, in his case, means he’s not polishing the rough edges—or the swing, for that matter. You’ll get him straight, whether you like it or not. It’s refreshingly aggravating, the way only authenticity can be. I’d roll my eyes, but truth be told, there’s room in this clubhouse for someone who refuses to fake the funk.”

Jeff Valente

Jeff Valente is a weekend golfer, coach, and executive who carries more four-letter words than most scorecards can hold. For him, golf is a proving ground for GRIT, TIME, GOOD, LUCK, TRUE, REAL, RISE, WORK, JUST, and HOPE. Each round is a lesson—sometimes in grinding through, sometimes in respecting the moment, and always in finding a reason to rise again. His favorite tale is the underdog win, that story where persistence finally topples the odds and hard work catches its lucky break. Whether he’s coaching, marketing, or chasing the next fairway, Jeff shows up the same way: prepared, grounded, and hopeful. He wears FLWC gear not as a badge of perfection, but as a reminder that the grind, the rise, and the hope are what really matter.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Valente collects four-letter words like others collect lost Pro V1s, and somehow manages to live by every one of them. Calls it grit and hope; I call it a stubborn refusal to fold, even when folding might save him strokes. It’s exhausting to watch a man grind with that much optimism. Still, when an underdog actually pulls it off, you can’t help but clap—begrudgingly, of course.”

Campbell Viles

Campbell Viles embodies the next generation of golf—bold, creative, and unafraid to mix tradition with modern flair. A weekend golfer and content creator, Campbell has collected a whole arsenal of four-letter words to live and play by: BOLD, PLAY, WORK, FLOW, GOOD, JUST, HOPE, and TIME. But at the heart of it all is TRUE—an insistence on authenticity, whether grinding through practice or swinging freely when it matters most. His golf story is usually “the funny one,” told with a wink, because he knows golf is as much about joy as it is about the grind. He wears FLWC gear because it represents what he believes: respect for the game’s traditions, but always with space to write a new chapter.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Viles collects four-letter words like others collect headcovers, but he’s young enough to believe he can live by all of them at once. BOLD and PLAY, WORK and FLOW—it’s exhausting just saying them. Still, there’s something admirable about someone willing to take the swing no one else will. Against my better judgment, I’ll admit—it might just work.”

Steve Ross

Steve Ross is built on GRIT. An executive, lifelong fan of the game, and proud descendant of the club, he learned golf the way it should be taught—passed down by someone who not only showed him how to swing but how to carry himself. His word in golf is TRUE, because to Steve, the game never lies: you either find the fairway or you don’t. His favorite tale is the underdog win, a reminder that resilience and persistence eventually pay off. Off the course, he’s as much a storyteller as a competitor, pulling from a library of film, sport, and life lessons. He wears FLWC gear because it reflects exactly who he is: rooted in tradition, but intent on writing his own chapter.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ross chose GRIT, which is fitting—he looks like the type who doesn’t quit, even when quitting would be the sane choice. He honors every tradition, grinds through every round, and will tell you about the underdog win until you believe it yourself. It’s relentless, maybe even exhausting—but I suppose the clubhouse needs men like him, if only to remind us what finishing really looks like.”

Jon Warren

Jon Warren lives by many four-letter words, but the through line is GRIT. A marketer, executive, professional artist, and musician, Jon doesn’t separate his creativity from his grind—he knows both matter, and both belong on the course. His golf word is TRUE, because he believes in showing up exactly as he is: real, raw, and unwilling to fake the funk. Jon respects the traditions of the game, but he insists on writing new ones, often with the same improvisational energy he brings to music and art. He hasn’t yet committed his “most-told” golf story to the archives, but you get the sense it will be part comedy, part struggle, and entirely memorable. He wears FLWC gear because it reflects his values—LOVE, WORK, GIVE, HOPE—and reminds him that every shot is a chance to respect the moment.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ross chose GRIT, which is fitting—he looks like the type who doesn’t quit, even when quitting would be the sane choice. He honors every tradition, grinds through every round, and will tell you about the underdog win until you believe it yourself. It’s relentless, maybe even exhausting—but I suppose the clubhouse needs men like him, if only to remind us what finishing really looks like.”

Kimberly Stanga

Kimberly Stanga is a student of tradition—an admirer of the game from afar who carries herself with quiet confidence. Her four-letter word in golf is TRUE, a reminder that the game strips away pretense and shows character in its rawest form. She hasn’t yet put her “most-told” golf story into circulation, but those who know her sense it will be delivered with calm clarity, the kind of tale you lean in to hear. For Kimberly, FLWC gear isn’t about flash; it’s about honoring what came before while wearing the future with pride. Steady, composed, and rooted in respect, she embodies the traditions she values most.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Stanga says she respects tradition, which usually means she won’t throw a club when the ball doesn’t listen. She hasn’t told her signature golf story yet—but with that poise, it’ll probably sound rehearsed even when it’s not. Still, there’s something to be said for composure in a game that unravels most of us. Begrudgingly, I’ll call it refreshing.”

Eric Shumaker

Eric Shumaker is a weekend golfer who doesn’t try to dress the game up as anything other than what it is: brutally honest. His chosen word, TRUE, fits both his golf and his outlook—no shortcuts, no faking it, just the game as it lies. He hasn’t yet spun his “most-told” golf story, but when he does, it’ll likely land with the same straightforward force as his drives—direct, no frills, and memorable because of its simplicity. Depending on the day, Eric is as likely to grind through the tough rounds as he is to shrug and enjoy the ride, which makes him a steady companion on and off the course. He wears FLWC gear because it embodies what he values most: tradition, honesty, and the quiet resolve to keep showing up.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Shumaker picked TRUE, which is the safe choice for someone who plays it as it lies and tells it as it is. No spin, no flash, just square hits and square words. He hasn’t written his big golf tale yet, but I imagine it’ll be delivered in the same fashion—plainspoken and impossible to argue with. Maddeningly reliable, which, I’ll admit, has its place in the clubhouse.”

Rob Florian

Rob Florian was raised on the game and carries it like a family heirloom — the kind you polish with pride and drop with a laugh when the pressure’s on. As both a marketer and a golfer, Rob mixes instinct with strategy, choosing his shots like he chooses his words: carefully, but with an eye toward impact. His four-letter words tell the story of a player who refuses to fold, who plays with joy even when the odds tighten, and who trusts that luck will always favor the prepared. Whether influencing audiences or influencing a match’s final hole, Rob lives by the rhythm of tradition and the thrill of rewriting it in his own way.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ah, Florian. A man taught golf and taught life in equal measure, which sounds exhausting, frankly. He grins through pressure and calls it tradition — I call it stubborn optimism. Still, anyone who can balance marketing spin with a halfway-decent short game might just deserve a frame on the wall. Begrudging nod granted.”

Howard Lindzon

An investor who prefers weekends on the course to weekdays in the boardroom, Howard Lindzon carries himself with the same edge he’s shown in markets: steady patience, sharp timing, and the occasional wild swing that pays off. His four-letter words — GRIT for life and PLAY for golf — spell out his refusal to fold and his insistence on enjoying every shot, even the ones that find the desert. Between his stories of stock charts and fishing trips, he’s a reminder that golf, like investing, demands both discipline and delight.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Of course he chose GRIT and PLAY — as if we needed Wall Street’s approval to remind us how to hold a finish. Still, the man’s survived markets, media, and missed three-footers, so I suppose he’s earned a locker. Begrudgingly, I’ll allow it.”

Richard Stamper

Richard Stamper walks into the club with the kind of presence that doesn’t ask for attention, but gets it anyway. An executive and marketer by trade, a weekend golfer by choice, he plays with a measured calm that comes from experience — steady in the storm, sharp when it counts. His four-letter words tell his legend: WORK, because nothing gets built without it; TRUE, because golf, like life, demands honesty; and LUCK, because he knows fortune smiles on those who prepare. Family stories trail him like gallery whispers, the kind that grow taller with time, but his game and grit keep him rooted.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“WORK, TRUE, LUCK — sounds less like a golfer’s mantra and more like a business card. Still, I can’t deny he’s got the temperament of a man who can drain a putt while everyone else is unraveling. If calm and consistent are virtues here, I suppose we can make room for him… though I’m sure he’ll market it better than I ever could.”

Liam Karas

Liam Karas plays the long game — in markets, in golf, and in life. An investor with a weekend swing, he leans on words like HOPE and TIME to frame his rounds: he sees what’s possible, respects the moment, and knows that every hole carries both risk and reward. His approach is balanced — GIVE when you can, WORK when you must, PLAY because that’s the point. And when luck shows up? He knows it favors the prepared. Whether quoting The Office mid-round or leaning into a “whatever happens, happens” shrug after a shanked drive, Liam’s legend is one of resilience, joy, and forward motion.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“HOPE, TIME, GIVE… this isn’t a golf bag, it’s a motivational poster. Still, the man grinds, plays with joy, and occasionally proves luck isn’t entirely blind. I’ll allow him in — but only if he stops quoting sitcoms while lining up six-footers.”

Doug Childers

Doug Childers runs the course like he runs his company — steady, deliberate, and with an eye for the long game. As an executive with Say Cargo Express, he embodies the duality of PLAY and WORK: living with joy, even when the pressure’s on, and grinding every day to make it happen. A weekend golfer with a love for WNBA, PGA, and the occasional Narcos binge mid-flight, Doug is the guy who’ll have you laughing one moment and sizing up his next shot the next. His membership in the Four Letter Word Club reflects a personal mantra: always bring the same intensity to the fairway that you do to the boardroom.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Childers has that executive calm — the kind that makes you think he’s lost until he wins. PLAY and WORK? He’s trying to have it both ways, and somehow he’s pulling it off. The funny one, huh? We’ll see. Just don’t expect me to laugh if you miss that three-footer, Doug.”

Kurt Jasin

On the surface, Kurt Jasin is an investor, a coach, and a weekend golfer. But those who’ve played a round with him know his real edge: calm under pressure and a wry smile that signals he’s already two moves ahead. His four-letter word, TRUE, isn’t just a motto — it’s his compass. Whether building businesses, mentoring leaders, or shaping his swing, Kurt holds to his principles and expects the same of the people around him. He blends competitive drive with respect for the game, bringing both gravitas and levity to every clubhouse he enters.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Investor. Coach. Weekend Golfer. Sounds like a self-help podcast waiting to happen. Yet somehow Kurt makes it work — no fluff, no fakery, and a handicap respectable enough to keep him invited back. I’m skeptical of anyone who can look that polished after 18 holes, but begrudgingly, I have to respect a man who lives his four-letter word without needing to spell it out.”

Eelco van Maaren

A seasoned investor with a strategist’s patience, Eelco van Maaren brings a deliberate yet daring edge to every round at the Four Letter Word Club. Known to toggle between precision and instinct depending on the day, he embodies his chosen word — RISE — a testament to persistence and resilience. Whether navigating a challenging back nine or steering complex ventures, Eelco’s legend grows from his refusal to stay down. Club lore already recalls the day he holed out from the rough after a double bogey, then calmly quoted “you rise” as if it were a mantra rather than a boast.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ah, Eelco. Part financier, part philosopher, all calm exterior with a glint of mischief in the eyes. He’s the kind who sizes up a dogleg the same way he sizes up a deal — slowly, like he’s trying to decide if it’s worth the risk. I didn’t expect to like him, but when a man lives his word — ‘RISE,’ of all things — and still manages to make me laugh after a shanked drive, well… even I have to nod. Begrudgingly.”

Alex Tepper

Alex Tepper plays the game the same way he invests: with patience, grit, and just enough daring to make the gallery lean forward. A weekend golfer by schedule but a lifer by bloodline, he grew up with stories of fairways and flagsticks echoing around his dinner table. His four-letter words—GRIT, BOLD, PLAY, CALM, FIRE, GIVE, GOOD, HOPE—are less mantras than mile markers, each one a reminder of the way he attacks life and golf alike: with purpose, joy, and an unshakable belief that the next shot could be the one. Whether it’s telling a funny story on the back nine or surprising everyone by taking on a shot no one else would dare, Tepper is equal parts competitor and companion, carrying the club’s legacy with a mix of humor and heart.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Another investor who thinks a 5-iron is just a safer stock option. And yet—against my better instincts—I’ll admit he pulls it off with unnerving consistency. Tepper swings with the gall of someone who doesn’t quite fear the rough, and occasionally, I find myself begrudgingly impressed. Fine. Welcome to the club, Alex. Just don’t expect me to laugh at your golf stories… at least not out loud.”

Pete Marcus

Pete Marcus is as steady on the course as he is in the boardroom. As an executive leading Goodwill Industries of Ventura and Santa Barbara Counties, he balances the grind of daily work with the release of a weekend round, never shying away from competition. His four-letter words—GRIT, BOLD, PLAY, WORK, TRUE, FIRE, GOOD—reflect his approach to both golf and life: relentless in effort, fearless in spirit, but always anchored in authenticity. Whether it’s watching the WNBA, PGA, or UFC, or quoting Breaking Bad and Narcos, Pete blends focus and fire with a healthy sense of humor, proving that joy and purpose can walk the same fairway.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Marcus claims to grind every day, which makes me wonder why his swing still looks like it needs overtime. Still, he brings more grit than most and enough fire to keep the clubhouse awake. Against my instincts, I’ll allow it: welcome in, Pete—just don’t expect me to applaud when you three-putt with that much enthusiasm.”

Leif Rosenvold

Leif Rosenvold walks through life and golf with the same quiet focus — eyes steady, tempo unhurried, and humor tucked neatly under a smirk. A weekend golfer who plays like a man balancing patience and pursuit, his words are HOPE and WORK — two sides of the same coin that he flips every morning. He respects TIME — not as something to beat, but as something to keep. His swing has that rare quality of conviction without chaos, and when the round goes sideways, he laughs first. That’s his tell — he’s not chasing perfection, he’s practicing resilience.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Rosenvold approaches golf like it’s a meditation — quiet, controlled, and slightly unnerving for anyone within earshot. He says he respects time, which I assume means he’s never rushed… except, of course, when his tee shot finds the cart path. Still, he’s a man of poise, humor, and a backswing worth studying — if you can stand the peace and quiet long enough.”

Ron Stockton

Ron Stockton is equal parts coach, competitor, and craftsman — a man who treats both golf and life like a lesson he’s already learned once but wants to master again. He embodies TRUE, playing the game with the discipline of an athlete and the calm of someone who’s been there before. Tradition matters to him — not the stuffy kind, but the kind built on respect, grit, and a good walk under pressure. He doesn’t talk much on the course, but when he does, it’s usually something worth remembering — or something that makes you rethink your club selection.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Stockton has the rare ability to make silence feel like leadership. He calls it tradition; I call it quiet intimidation. His game is neat, his posture is presidential, and his short game is almost impolite. The man probably writes thank-you notes after birdies. Against my will, I find the whole thing impressive — maddeningly so.”

Mike Gray

Mike Gray plays life like a long par-four — thoughtful on the approach, fearless on the finish. A weekend golfer with the soul of a designer, he’s as steady in the boardroom as he is over a six-footer to save par. His words are HOPE and GOOD — a combination that says he believes in what’s possible and in doing it the right way. He grew up watching those who taught him how to swing and how to stand up straight, carrying both lessons into every round. Calm under pressure, gracious in chaos, Mike doesn’t just play the game — he restores its dignity, one smooth tempo at a time.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Gray’s the kind of player who makes you believe golf has a moral code again. He says he plays with hope and goodness — which sounds suspiciously like someone who’s never lost three balls in a row. Still, he’s got that rare quality: confidence without noise, and class without effort. I’ll admit it — he’s the kind of guy who makes everyone else want to play a little better.”

Alex Soto

Alex Soto doesn’t talk much about golf — he just plays it. A coach by trade and a traditionalist at heart, he carries himself with the calm precision of someone who’s seen too many fourth quarters to panic over a three-putt. His swing is honest, his approach unhurried. Around Morongo Golf Club, folks say he plays like a man who knows the rules but chooses his battles wisely. His four-letter words — REAL and GRIT — aren’t slogans; they’re how he walks through life and across the fairway. There’s no flash, no fake, no fuss. Just a steady rhythm, the sound of ball meeting grass, and a quiet reminder that consistency is its own kind of rebellion.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Well, look who strolled in wearing tradition like it’s a badge and not a burden. Soto’s the kind of player who still fixes his divots and probably writes thank-you notes. No tantrums, no TikToks — just good posture and quiet menace. I wanted to be bored, but the man made par out of respect for the game. Begrudgingly, I salute him. He’s the kind of golfer who restores my faith… and ruins my handicap.”

Becky Leonard

Becky Leonard doesn’t just see the fairway — she sees what it could be. An executive with an eye for transformation and a heart full of humor, Becky carries her trademark four-letter word, HOPE, into every round and every room. She’s the kind of player who reminds you that optimism isn’t naive — it’s strategy. Whether she’s navigating tight greens or life’s curveballs, she believes in possibilities, and she proves it with quiet confidence. Off the course, she’s the voice that keeps the group grounded and grinning — the friend who can turn a bad lie into a better story.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ah yes — the optimist. Every club needs one. Becky shows up smiling, talking about silver linings, and somehow you end up believing her. She’s the kind of person who can double-bogey and still call it progress. I’d mock her cheerfulness, but frankly, it’s hard to roast someone who’s already decided everything’s going to work out. Against my better judgment, I’ll admit — I’m glad she’s here. The course looks a little brighter when she’s around… though I’ll deny I ever said that.”

Jorge Bendeck

Jorge Bendeck doesn’t play golf to escape life — he plays it to savor it. A weekend golfer and lifelong investor, Jorge carries the kind of calm that only comes from decades of perspective and a deep appreciation for the people around him. His four-letter word, LOVE, fits him perfectly: he loves big, listens fully, and celebrates every shot — even the bad ones — because they’re part of the story. Some days he’s fierce with focus; others, he’s just out there to feel the sun and the company. Either way, you can count on him for a smile, a wise comment, and maybe a quick portfolio check between holes.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ah, the man with the sunglasses and the soft heart. Jorge plays like someone who already won the game a long time ago — now he’s just out here for the joy of it. He’s proof that you can care deeply and still keep your cool when the putt lips out. He gives off ‘chairman of the clubhouse’ energy — the kind who’ll buy the first round and remind you to call your mother. I can’t mock that. Not because I don’t want to… but because he’d probably thank me for trying.”

Martin Dunn

Martin Dunn plays the game with the confidence of someone who already knows the ending — he just likes seeing how it unfolds. An investor and executive by title, but a pure player by nature, Martin carries five four-letter codes like clubs in his bag: BOLD, GRIT, PLAY, FLOW, and SHOT. He swings hard, thinks sharp, and laughs louder than the missed putts. Whether he’s closing a deal or chasing birdies, he moves with a mix of precision and ease that only comes from years of making things happen. Golf, for Martin, is just another arena for expression — measured, mischievous, and unmistakably his own.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Martin Dunn. Even his name sounds like a statement. The man doesn’t play golf — he performs it. Every swing looks like it’s been rehearsed in a boardroom, every grin like he’s two moves ahead. He’s got that rare ability to make confidence look casual and risk look responsible. Watching him play is like watching a magician who tells you the trick and still pulls it off. I’d call him lucky, but luck doesn’t smirk back at you.”

Jon Silverman

Jon Silverman steps onto the course with the same focused burn he brings to every boardroom, tee box, and unexpected cross-country delay. A weekend golfer with an executive’s intensity, he treats each round as both ritual and experiment—equal parts grit, refusal, and quiet purpose. His life’s four-letter words chart the arc of his character: FIRE for the way he moves through the world, SOUL for the depth he can’t help but bring into it, GOOD for the choices he makes, and JUST for the principles he won’t set aside. On the course, his vocabulary shifts: WORK when the swing shape needs discipline, SHOT when the moment calls for courage, REAL because he refuses to fake the funk, and of course “****” —that chaotic shrug of fate golfers know all too well. He’s the guy who watches both pro sports and prestige TV on long flights, tells his funniest story when he knows you need it most, and wears FLWC gear because it signals exactly who he is: someone who shows up, takes his swing, and lives it straight.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Silverman arrived like a man who’d already written his own plaque and simply needed us to hang it. Lot of purpose in that one. Lot of opinions, too. He burns hot, he plays honest, and he takes his shots without rehearsing them into dust. I find all of this mildly irritating and, regrettably, impressive. In short: he belongs here. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Ken Graves

Ken Graves arrives to the Four Letter Word Club not just as a golfer, but as a descendant of its unwritten code—passed down by the person who taught him both the game and the art of “**** it” when life or golf demanded surrender. He carries himself like a man who’s weathered more than a few storms and learned that calm isn’t the absence of chaos, but the decision to remain centered while the wheel keeps turning. On the course and in life, he lives by a constellation of four-letter truths: GRIT, because he never folds; REAL, because pretending isn’t in his DNA; LOVE and SOUL, because he cares deeply and moves through the world with intention; WORK and HARD, because nothing worth anything comes easy; TRUE, because he refuses to drift from who he is; and SHOT, because he takes his chance, every time. He watches comfort-shows on planes, tells stories funnier than he realizes, and embodies the rare combination of steadiness and hope that makes people trust him—on the tee box, in a crisis, or steering the metaphorical ship.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Graves showed up like a man who’d already checked the weather, tightened the rigging, and accepted whatever seas he was about to sail into. Annoyingly grounded fellow. Plays honest, cares too much, thinks before he swings—an approach I personally find exhausting. And yet, the Club needs one or two like him to balance out the rest of you chaos merchants. Fine. He may stay. But if he starts giving unsolicited life lessons on the back nine, I’m pretending I didn’t hear him."

Brad Lyle

Brad Lyle carries himself with the quiet steadiness of someone who has lived enough life to know what truly matters—and who’s unapologetically loyal to it. A traditionalist on the course, he respects the old rhythms of the game, keeps his emotions tucked just out of view, and lets his swing say whatever needs saying. His four-letter word, LOVE, isn’t soft sentimentality—it’s intensity, commitment, the kind that shows up early, stays late, and remembers what people forget. His personal legend? A family one, the sort built over time rather than declared. Off the tee or off the clock, Brad moves like a man anchored by history and motivated by heart.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“LOVE, huh? Bold choice for a man who pretends not to feel anything over a three-putt. But I’ll give him this: he carries it well. A steady presence, traditional, borderline stoic—like a clubhouse portrait that occasionally smirks back at you. I don’t trust people who say too much, but the ones who say little and mean all of it? Fine. He can stay."

Bill Berry

Bill Berry is the kind of golfer who treats the weekend like a sacred ritual — equal parts competition, comedy, and controlled chaos. He’s a “whatever happens, happens” player, which usually means he’s already accepted the double bogey before the ball even lands, but still believes the next swing could be pure magic. His word is TRUE, and it fits: Bill doesn’t fake anything — not his game, not his mood, not his story. He shows up as he is, rides the momentum when it’s flowing, and somehow stays steady when the wheels come off. Whether he’s chasing a personal best or just trying to keep the driver from betraying him, Bill plays like a man who knows golf is a mirror — and he’s not afraid of what it shows.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Berry’s got that rare kind of honesty you can’t teach — mostly because he refuses to pretend he’s having a good time when he’s not. The man will tell you exactly what he thinks about the course, his swing, your swing, and modern society… then offer you a cold drink like nothing happened. He’s a weekend golfer with professional-level commitment to the vibe. TRUE is right — and frankly, I respect the refusal to fake the funk. Annoying, but respectable."

Jared Baar

Jared Baar plays the game like a man who respects it — not just the scorecard part, but the quiet code behind it. He’s a weekend golfer by schedule, but not by approach. His four-letter word is FLOW, and it shows in everything he does: the swing that looks effortless, the calm that doesn’t flinch when the round gets weird, and the way he keeps the emotions tucked away like he’s been doing this for decades. Jared’s vibe is traditional — not showy, not loud, not looking for attention — just steady confidence and clean rhythm. He’s the guy who doesn’t need a pre-shot speech or a dramatic club toss to make his point… because his point is always in the contact.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Jared Baar has the temperament of a man who was raised by the rules of golf and the silent judgment of older men in clubhouses. He doesn’t celebrate, he doesn’t panic, and I’m fairly certain he could bogey five holes in a row without changing his facial expression. FLOW is accurate — the swing is smooth, the demeanor is controlled, and the only thing missing is the occasional emotional breakdown the rest of us rely on for entertainment. Still… I’ll admit it. The kid belongs."

Paul Ollinger

Paul Ollinger is what happens when a weekend golfer also happens to be a content creator, aspiring artist, and the kind of guy who can turn a near-disaster into a story worth repeating for the next ten years. His four-letter word is LOVE, and it’s not the soft kind — it’s the full-send version. Paul loves hard, cares deeply, and still shows up with humor when things go sideways… which, if we’re honest, is how most golf rounds go anyway. He’s the rare member who can appreciate tradition and chaos at the same time: a respect-for-the-game type who also understands that the best part is what happens after the score is forgotten. Whether he’s teeing it up, making something, or turning a moment into a bit, Paul lives in the sweet spot between heart and hilarity — and somehow makes even “near failure” feel like a win.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ollinger is the kind of man who’ll miss a four-footer and still manage to teach you something about life before the next tee box. LOVE as a four-letter word sounds like something you’d see stitched onto a throw pillow… but I’ll begrudgingly admit it fits him. He’s got the heart of an artist, the instincts of a performer, and the golf game of a man who’s one swing away from brilliance and two swings away from calling it ‘content.’ Still — the care is real. The stories are real. And unfortunately, the charm is real too."

Larry Ayonn

Larry Ayonn is the kind of weekend golfer who doesn’t show up looking for perfection — he shows up looking for a moment. A clean strike, a clutch putt, a drive that makes the group go quiet for half a second. His four-letter word says it all: “****… it-you know. Whatever happens, happens.” That’s not resignation — that’s acceptance. Larry plays like a man who understands golf is less about control and more about surviving the chaos with your dignity intact. He’s got the calm energy of someone who’s seen enough shanks to stop flinching, and enough great shots to keep coming back for more.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Larry’s philosophy appears to be: do your best, blame the wind, and move on like nothing happened. ‘Whatever happens, happens’ is not a strategy, it’s a legal disclaimer — but I’ll admit, it’s oddly fitting for this club. He may not be chasing trophies, but he’s chasing something far rarer: peace. Begrudgingly approved."

Howard Stein

Howard Stein is the rare kind of golfer who feels like he belongs to the game even when he’s “just a weekend guy.” A fan from afar and a true descendant of the club—someone taught him how to golf and how to ****—Howard carries the traditions with him, but he’s not afraid to write a few new ones on the scorecard. He can be REAL when the moment calls for it, BOLD when the swing demands it, and CALM when the round tries to break him. His vibe is simple: show up as you are, laugh when it gets weird, and keep playing anyway. One day he’s the grinder, the next he’s pure joy—because for Howard, it depends on the day… and exactly how the front nine went.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Stein is the type who claims he’s ‘just a weekend golfer’ right before he hits a shot that makes everyone go quiet. He’s got too many four-letter words for one man, which tells me he’s either deeply evolved… or deeply unstable. But I’ll give him this: he respects the game, he respects the people, and he doesn’t fake the funk. That’s more than I can say for most of you. Approved—on a probationary basis."

Jonathan Neubauer

Jonathan Neubauer carries himself like someone who understands that golf, like life, doesn’t owe you a damn thing — and that’s exactly why he respects it. A weekend golfer by schedule but a grinder by nature, Jonathan approaches the game the same way he approaches work, family, and everything else worth caring about: with intention, patience, and a refusal to fold when things turn sideways. His four-letter word, TRUE, isn’t about purity or perfection — it’s about showing up as you are, honoring the traditions that matter, and writing your own chapters without apology. He plays with calm when it’s there, fire when it’s needed, and grit when it’s unavoidable. Around the club, his legend isn’t about low rounds — it’s about sticking around, taking the hard swings, and respecting the moment for what it is.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Neubauer’s the type who says he’s just a weekend golfer, then quietly knows the yardage, the wind, and exactly why he missed the putt. Claims to respect tradition — and I believe him — but don’t mistake that for stiffness. He plays honest, lives honest, and doesn’t ask the game to be easier than it is. Not flashy. Not loud. Just real. Annoyingly respectable."

Ed Shriner

Ed Shriner is the kind of golfer who doesn’t waste energy pretending the game is easier than it is. An executive by trade and a weekend golfer by schedule, he plays the way he lives — steady, direct, and willing to take the hard route if it’s the right one. His four-letter word, TRUE, isn’t performative; it’s a quiet commitment to doing things the right way, even when no one’s keeping score. On the course, Ed values effort over elegance and honesty over flash. His personal legend isn’t built on miracle rounds or impossible shots, but on consistency — showing up, respecting the game, and accepting whatever it gives back with a shrug and a grin.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Shriner doesn’t ask golf for favors, which is probably why it tolerates him. Plays it straight, lives it straight, and seems perfectly fine grinding it out the hard way. Says ‘**** it’ like someone who’s already done the math. I don’t hear excuses. I don’t hear whining. I hear someone who understands the deal. That’ll do."

Kevin Sage

Kevin Sage is proof that you don’t need to live inside the ropes to understand what the game asks of you. A fan from afar, he respects golf the way some people respect history — not as something frozen in time, but as something worth honoring while still pushing forward. His four-letter word, REAL, shows up in how he moves through the world: no pretense, no borrowed swagger, no fake grind. Kevin brings soul to every interaction, fire when it matters, and an understanding that time — on the course or off it — deserves attention. His legend isn’t measured in scorecards or club trophies; it’s measured in how he shows up, how he rises after a miss, and how deeply he respects the moment he’s in.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Sage doesn’t pretend he’s something he’s not, which already puts him ahead of half the room. Knows the game, respects it, and somehow manages to keep a sense of humor about the whole thing. Fan from afar, maybe — but there’s nothing distant about how he carries himself. Real enough to stick. That counts."

Jacob Payne

Jacob Payne grew up close enough to the game to understand its weight, even if he didn’t always carry the bag himself. A marketer by trade and a fan from afar, he respects golf the way traditions are meant to be respected — quietly, consistently, and without needing to announce it. His four-letter word, FIRE, is balanced by TIME and HOPE: burn with purpose, respect the moment you’re in, and believe there’s something better ahead. Jacob doesn’t chase noise or nostalgia; he honors where the game comes from while understanding it has room to evolve. His legend isn’t written in scorecards yet — it’s written in restraint, patience, and an appreciation for how things are done when they’re done right.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Payne knows when to speak and when to shut up, which already puts him ahead of schedule. Carries himself like someone who understands tradition isn’t something you borrow — it’s something you earn. Fan from afar, sure, but there’s respect there. Fire under the hood, calm at the wheel. I’ll allow it.”

Ben Kartzman

Ben Kartzman carries himself like someone who understands that grit isn’t loud — it’s consistent. An executive by profession and a traditionalist by instinct, Ben approaches both life and golf with a steady hand and a long memory. His four-letter word, GRIT, isn’t about bravado or chest-thumping resilience; it’s about finishing what you start, especially when the odds don’t favor you. He respects the game’s traditions, keeps his emotions in check, and understands that underdog wins are earned one disciplined decision at a time. His legend isn’t built on shortcuts or spectacle — it’s built on showing up, staying upright, and grinding through until the work is done.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Kartzman doesn’t flinch, which tells me he’s been here before. Plays like someone who knows the hard way usually is the right way. No drama, no speeches — just grit and follow-through. I’ve seen worse ideas than trusting a guy like this to finish the round. He’ll do.”

Gary Kibel

Gary Kibel plays the game the way it was meant to be played — with perspective. A weekend golfer by habit and an executive and investor by trade, Gary understands pressure well enough not to be ruled by it. His four-letter word, PLAY, isn’t about carelessness; it’s about joy earned through experience. He respects tradition, but he doesn’t worship it blindly — he’s just as comfortable honoring what came before as he is writing something new when the moment calls for it. On the course and off, Gary’s legend lives in timing: knowing when to push, when to laugh, and when to let the game be what it’s supposed to be.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Kibel smiles like someone who’s already survived worse than a bad front nine. Plays with joy, not denial — there’s a difference. Knows the traditions, respects them, and still manages to enjoy himself, which frankly annoys me a little. But he’s earned it. I’ll allow the fun.”

Fred Grand

Fred Grand approaches golf the same way he approaches life — with rhythm, perspective, and a willingness to let things flow. A weekend golfer by choice and an executive by trade, Fred understands pressure well enough not to fight it. His four-letter words — PLAY and FLOW — aren’t slogans, they’re operating principles. When the swing’s right, he rides it. When it’s not, he shrugs, laughs, and moves on. He’s comfortable living in the middle ground between intensity and ease, knowing some days demand grit and others demand acceptance. His legend isn’t about forcing outcomes — it’s about timing, balance, and knowing when to let the game come to you.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Grand plays like someone who knows when to push and when to stop pushing — which, frankly, takes longer to learn than most people admit. Says ‘**** it’ without panic, lets the round breathe, and somehow keeps things moving forward. I don’t always trust guys who look this relaxed, but in this case… it’s earned. I won’t argue with the flow.”

Chris Saridakis

Chris Saridakis understands that golf, like life, doesn’t always explain itself — and doesn’t need to. A weekend golfer by practice, an investor and executive by profession, and a fan from afar by instinct, Chris carries a wide-angle view of the game. His four-letter mantra — “**** it, whatever happens, happens” — isn’t surrender; it’s acceptance earned through experience. Some days he grinds, some days he lets it breathe, and he’s comfortable adjusting based on how the round — or the moment — unfolds. He respects the traditions, keeps one foot planted in them, and allows himself the freedom not to be ruled by every bounce or break. His legend lives in flexibility: knowing when to care deeply and when to let go.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Saridakis doesn’t force the issue, which tells me he’s already lost enough arguments with the game to stop having them. Plays it his way, adjusts on the fly, and doesn’t panic when things don’t cooperate. That ‘whatever happens’ line usually worries me — but in this case, it sounds earned. I won’t fight it.”

Will Arnett

Will Arnett plays golf the way he delivers a punchline — unhurried, slightly dangerous, and with the quiet confidence of a man who’s already committed to the bit. The Toronto native treats the game as both refuge and proving ground. His four-letter word for life is COOL — not performative cool, but the earned kind. The kind that comes from surviving Hollywood, fatherhood, and more than a few self-inflicted plot twists. On the course, his word is GRIT. Because no matter how smooth the voice or tailored the jacket, he’s grinding over a five-footer like it owes him money. He loves golf for its silence, its cruelty, and its refusal to care who you are off the tee. The legend? He once claimed he fixed his driver swing mid-round by muttering to himself in the same tone he uses for animated villains — and striped it 280 down the middle.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Listen, when a man with that voice tells you he ‘found something’ in his backswing, you want to believe him. COOL and GRIT is a tidy combination — almost suspiciously tidy. But I’ve seen the tape. He cares. Deeply. Possibly too deeply. And any grown man willing to walk four hours chasing a small white ball without irony has earned provisional approval. We’ll keep an eye on him.”

Jordan Fiksenbaum

Jordan Fiksenbaum is the kind of golfer who understands that the game, much like life, rarely rewards the shortcut. Somewhere between investor calls and weekend tee times, he built his personal code around one four-letter truth: GRIT. He plays the same way he works — steady, analytical, allergic to excuses. Some days he’s chasing near failure, other days he’s chasing a number; either way, he’s grinding. A self-described “both” when it comes to loving and loathing the game, Jordan knows golf gives and takes in equal measure. His legend? The round that nearly fell apart — and the calm, stubborn refusal to let it. He wears FLWC gear not for flash, but as a quiet signal: he shows up, finishes what he starts, and does it the hard way because it matters.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“GRIT. Of course it is. The executive special. You people love a word that sounds like it belongs on a motivational coffee mug. And yet… I’ve seen the type. The man who refuses to pick up, who plays the provisional just in case, who grinds out a bogey like it’s a boardroom negotiation. Annoying? Slightly. Respectable? Unfortunately, yes.”

Jon Levenson

Jon Levenson doesn’t approach golf the way most people do — he approaches it like a song. A professional artist and musician by trade, he plays with feel first, mechanics second, and ego somewhere far behind the bag. His four-letter foundation is TRUE — true to craft, true to voice, true to the swing he brought to the tee that day, whether it cooperates or not. He believes in the underdog win, the round that turns late, the putt that shouldn’t drop but does. Some days the game loves him back. Some days it doesn’t. Either way, he shows up the same. Depth over drama. Soul over show. And when it clicks, it’s less a scorecard and more a composition.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“An artist. Of course. ‘TRUE,’ he says. They always say that. The creatives want authenticity, expression, tempo. Meanwhile the rest of us are just trying to hit the fairway. But I’ll grant this — the man believes in the underdog win. And anyone who sticks around long enough to watch the back nine rewrite the story… well. That’s someone who understands the game. I suppose we can make room for a little soul around here.”

Justine Hodson

Justine Hodson may call herself a fan from afar, but don’t mistake distance for detachment. A marketer by trade and a student of human nature by instinct, she understands that golf — like life — is about rhythm, resilience, and reading the room (or the green). Her four-letter core shifts with the day: GIVE when someone needs her, GRIT when the moment gets long, CALM when the storm rolls in, SOUL when depth matters, and always HOPE when the round looks lost. She loves the funny story more than the perfect score and knows the best rounds are rarely the cleanest ones. Some days she’s all in. Some days she’s observing. Either way, she’s present — and that counts.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“A fan from afar, she says. Which is usually code for ‘I know exactly how this should be done, I’m just not swinging the club.’ But I’ll give her this — anyone who claims GRIT and CALM in the same breath has either played enough golf to suffer properly… or watched enough to know better. And a ‘funny one’ as her most-told story? Good. This club could use someone who remembers it’s a game.”

Jeff Mason

Jeff Mason plays the game the way he lives the week — direct, competitive, and just a little amused by the chaos. A weekend golfer with an executive edge, he believes in GRIT when the round gets sideways, REAL when the stakes rise, and RISE when everyone else assumes it’s over. He consumes headlines, highlights, and hard truths in equal measure — from Breaking Bad to the back nine. His most-told golf story? The funny one, of course. Because if you can’t laugh at the bounce that hits the cart path twice and still finds the bunker, you’re in the wrong sport. Some days he’s all business. Some days he’s chasing a number. Either way, he doesn’t fold — he finishes.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“GRIT, REAL, RISE. A tidy little trilogy of ambition. The investor special. I suspect he reads the green like a balance sheet and treats a double bogey like market volatility — temporary, correctable, irritating. But I’ll give him this: anyone who claims both GRIT and a ‘funny one’ as their favorite story understands the assignment. Take it seriously… but not too seriously. Fine. He can tee it up.”

Taylor Seidel

Taylor Seidel doesn’t need theatrics to command a leaderboard. As a Tournament Director with the Vancouver Golf Tour, he’s built his life around the structure and sanctity of the game — tee times tight, scorecards clean, traditions respected. He’s the type who keeps his emotions in neutral and lets his preparation do the talking. His four-letter word is GRIT — not loud, not flashy, just the quiet refusal to fold when the pressure sets in. The story he tells most isn’t about dominance — it’s about the underdog win, the round where patience beat power and steady hands outlasted ego. Taylor believes in the long walk, the firm handshake, and earning it the right way. No shortcuts. No speeches. Just finish.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ah yes, the traditionalist. Keeps his emotions locked up tighter than a members-only locker room and probably irons his yardage book. But I’ll give him this — GRIT isn’t a slogan for him, it’s a setting. The underdog win? That tracks. He doesn’t need fireworks. Just a fairway, a flag, and a reason to outlast you. Annoyingly respectable.”

Chris Campbell

Chris Campbell is a weekend golfer in the purest sense — the kind who works all week, then chases birdies like they owe him money. Somewhere between a tee time and a post-round beer, he manages to blend sharp wit with quiet conviction. His four-letter code reads like a manifesto: GOOD. GRIT. BOLD. LOVE. GIVE. He believes character counts more than carry distance, but that doesn’t mean he won’t take the swing no one else has the nerve to try. He plays the game the way he lives — competitive, loyal, and just self-aware enough to laugh when it all goes sideways. If you ask him about his best round, he’ll probably tell you the funny version first. But beneath the humor is a guy who finishes what he starts and shows up for his people every time.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Five four-letter words? Ambitious. Most men can barely commit to one. But I’ll admit — GOOD and GRIT make a respectable pairing, and anyone bold enough to attempt hero shots on a Saturday has my reluctant attention. He laughs, he swings hard, and he apparently loves even harder. Dangerous combination. I approve… cautiously.”

Mike Jordan

Mike Jordan plays the long game — in business and on the back nine. An executive by trade and a weekend golfer by devotion, he carries himself with the kind of steady confidence that doesn’t need volume. His code reads like a constitution: TRUE. RISE. REAL. GRIT. FIRE. HARD. TIME. HOPE. Not slogans — standards. He respects the traditions of the game — the walk, the etiquette, the earned respect — but he’s not afraid to write a few new ones of his own. He does it the hard way because it matters. He finishes rounds the same way he builds companies: deliberate, disciplined, and unwilling to waver from who he is. The legend isn’t in one single shot — it’s in the pattern. Show up. Stay steady. Rise when it counts.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Eight four-letter words? That’s not a mantra — that’s a board meeting. But I’ll admit, there’s something unsettlingly solid about him. TRUE and GRIT tend to expose the pretenders quickly, and he doesn’t look like he’s pretending to be anything. ‘Truly American,’ he says. Respects tradition but writes new ones. Dangerous combination. I’ll keep an eye on him… mostly because he seems like the type who finishes what he starts.”

Benjamin McKenna

Benjamin McKenna plays the game the way he builds his life — layered, intentional, and never by accident. An executive and investor who still guards his weekend tee times like board meetings, he carries a code longer than most scorecards: RISE. GRIT. TIME. SHOT. GOOD. GIVE. CALM. LUCK. WORK. TRUE. SOUL. PLAY. REAL. LOVE. HARD. JUST. It reads like a manifesto because, for him, it is. He believes luck favors the prepared, but he also knows when to take his SHOT without hesitation. Some days he’s traditional — steady, composed, respecting every inch of the course. Other days he’s loose, competitive, laughing like he’s in an episode of Parks & Rec while quietly grinding you down. He rises, he works, he gives — and when the pressure shows up, he stays calm enough to finish.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Seventeen four-letter words? That’s not a philosophy — that’s a constitution with amendments. But I’ll admit, anyone bold enough to list WORK, SOUL, JUST, and LOVE in the same breath isn’t here by accident. He respects TIME and takes his SHOT. That’s a dangerous combination. Prepared, patient, and just self-aware enough to laugh when it goes sideways. I suppose that’s what they call a complete player. Annoyingly complete.”

Garrett Jordan

Garrett Jordan didn’t just find the game — he inherited it. A descendant of the club in every sense, he’s part of the next wave that was taught how to swing and how to live by the same hands. Weekend golfer, fan from afar, competitor when it counts. His code reads like youth with purpose: PLAY. FIRE. FLOW. SHOT. GOOD. HOPE. And, when necessary, a quiet “**** it” — the understanding that sometimes you trust your swing and let the moment sort itself out. He doesn’t carry an official handicap, but 18Birdies says 15 — and he’s working on that. Some days he’s loose and fearless, taking his SHOT without hesitation. Other days he’s steady, learning the rhythm, finding his FLOW. What makes him different isn’t polish — it’s belief. He plays with joy, burns with purpose, and carries the kind of hope that suggests his best rounds are still ahead of him. The legend isn’t written yet. That’s the point.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“A descendant, huh? That means expectations. Dangerous territory for a young man with FIRE and no official handicap. But I’ll admit — anyone willing to PLAY first and calculate later has my attention. FLOW is earned, not declared. If he keeps taking his SHOT and choosing GOOD when it matters, he might just grow into the name. I’ll allow it… for now.”

Kristee Wright-Drisko

Kristee Wright-Drisko learned the game the right way — by living inside it. As a PGA Club Professional at Forest Lake Country Club, golf isn’t just something she plays; it’s something she teaches, protects, and carries forward every day. Her four-letter word is HARD — not because she enjoys difficulty, but because she believes the things that matter most are earned that way. The hard way means early mornings on the range, patient lessons with beginners, and the steady responsibility of keeping the traditions of the game intact while welcoming the next generation into it. She respects where golf came from, but she’s also the kind of professional who quietly helps shape where it’s going. Truly American in spirit, she honors the traditions — and writes new ones every season.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“A PGA professional choosing HARD as her word? That checks out. Anyone who spends their days fixing other people’s swings and still loves the game deserves a medal… or at least a strong drink. But I respect it. The hard way usually means the right way. And people who carry the traditions while quietly rewriting them tend to leave the game better than they found it. I’ll allow it — with respect.”

Tom Schrepferman

Tom Schrepferman is the kind of player who doesn’t need to say much — because the way he shows up already says it. An executive, marketer, and weekend golfer with a deep appreciation for both music and the rhythm of the game, Tom carries himself with a steady, traditional presence. His code is simple, but not easy: REAL. RISE. GIVE. GOOD. JUST. He believes in doing things the right way, even when it’s not the easy way. On the course, he keeps his emotions in check, respects the traditions, and lets consistency do the talking. Off the course, he’s the same — grounded, reliable, and always showing up for others. He’s not chasing attention. He’s building something that lasts.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“REAL and JUST on the same card? That usually filters people out pretty quickly. But he doesn’t strike me as someone trying to impress — more like someone who already decided who he is a long time ago. Traditional, composed, and apparently allergic to unnecessary noise. I respect that. The ones who stay steady tend to be the ones still standing at the end. Quietly dangerous.”

Jonah Amodt

Jonah Amodt plays the game the same way he lives his life — present, steady, and ready when it’s his turn. A weekend golfer with a grinder’s mindset, he’s built around a code that doesn’t chase shortcuts: TIME. SHOT. HARD. CALM. SOUL. WORK. RISE. He respects the moment, whether it’s a casual round or a swing that actually matters, and when it’s time, he takes his SHOT without hesitation. There’s a calm to him that doesn’t break under pressure — the kind that comes from putting in the work long before anyone’s watching. He’s not loud about it, but there’s depth there. The kind of player who keeps showing up, keeps getting better, and knows that whatever comes next… he’ll rise to meet it.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“TIME and CALM usually mean one of two things — either you’ve figured something out, or you’re very good at pretending you have. But I’ll give him this: WORK and HARD don’t lie. That combination tends to expose the real ones eventually. If he keeps taking his SHOT when it matters and doesn’t rush the moment, he might be onto something. Quiet confidence… dangerous trait. I’ll allow it.”

Robert Kacer

Robert Kacer doesn’t chase the moment—he understands it. The kind of weekend golfer who reads a round the way others read headlines, he plays with a steady hand and a quiet edge, grounded in TIME and fueled by SHOT. There’s no panic in his game, no wasted motion—just patience, preparation, and the willingness to take his swing when it matters. He respects the grind (WORK), embraces the climb (RISE), and carries himself with a calm that feels earned, not practiced. The underdog story isn’t just one he enjoys—it’s one he’s lived, one measured in fairways found, pressure handled, and moments seized when others hesitate.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“He’s got that unsettling calm—the kind that makes you think he’s either completely at peace… or about to ruin your day. Guys like Kacer don’t say much, which is usually how you know they’ve seen it all before. TIME, SHOT… yes, very poetic. Annoyingly effective, too. I’d keep an eye on him—right up until he quietly takes your money.”

William Smith

William Smith plays the game the same way he moves through life—loose, fearless, and entirely unbothered by how it’s “supposed” to go. A weekend golfer and fan from afar, he’s just as comfortable grinding through a round as he is kicking back and watching it unfold on a screen somewhere. His four-letter word says it all—**** it. Whatever happens, happens. And somehow, that mindset becomes an edge. No overthinking, no panic—just stepping up and taking the swing when it’s there. Some days it’s dialed, some days it’s chaos—but either way, he’s in it, fully, and that’s the point. There’s a quiet confidence in not needing it to be perfect—just real.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Ah yes… the ‘**** it’ philosophy. A dangerous game—usually ends in disaster or brilliance, occasionally both on the same hole. Smith seems oddly at peace with either outcome, which I suppose is admirable… or deeply concerning. Hard to tell. Still, anyone who can walk that line without flinching has my reluctant attention.”

Matthew Osborne

Matthew Osborne carries himself like someone who understands that golf was never just about golf. A weekend player by schedule but a club man by bloodline, he treats the game the same way he treats life — with reverence for tradition and just enough edge to reshape it when necessary. His word is FLOW: effortless when it’s working, dangerous when it’s not, and impossible to fake either way. Somewhere between old-school country club etiquette and modern-day confidence, Matthew belongs to the lineage of golfers who learned the game through stories, handshakes, and inherited habits that don’t show up on scorecards. The legends he tells aren’t always about birdies — they’re about people, moments, and the strange way golf teaches you exactly who you are.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Descendant of the Club’ is either deeply respectable or the kind of thing someone says right before explaining why they never rake bunkers. Still, Osborne has the look of a man who knows where the good whiskey is hidden and when to keep his mouth shut on the 18th green. FLOW, huh? Convenient word for someone trying to disguise competitive instincts under calm restraint. Annoyingly composed. Probably dangerous.”

Adam Liebman

Adam Liebman carries himself like the kind of guy who knows exactly when to lay up — and almost never does. Investor by trade, weekend golfer by necessity, and executive by temperament, Adam plays the game the same way he approaches life: decisively, confidently, and with just enough swagger to make traditionalists nervous. His four-letter word is SHOT — not because he believes every gamble pays off, but because he respects the courage it takes to step into one anyway. “You take yours. No fear.” That’s not branding language for Adam. It’s policy. Somewhere between boardrooms, fairways, and late-night debates about underdog victories, he’s built a reputation for betting on conviction over consensus. The sort of man who honors old traditions while quietly rewriting the rules beside them.

Mr. Judge’s Note:“Liebman worries me a little. Any man smiling that confidently while carrying around the word SHOT is either dangerous or selling a startup. Possibly both. Still, I’ll admit this: the man understands commitment. No hedging, no dithering, no fifteen-minute practice swings before the moment arrives. He picks his line and swings like he means it. Reckless? Occasionally. American? Irritatingly so. But golf clubs — and countries, for that matter — were built by people willing to take one clean shot before anyone else thought it was wise.”