TAYLORVILLE, ILLINOIS | Dave Ryan learned to play golf on a nine-hole course in central Illinois. Par was 33, later expanded to 35. The greens and tees were irrigated. Sort of.
Forget all the impediments and obstacles at Taylorville Country Club, Ryan loved this little course, which may explain how he grew up to become a national champion.
In 2016, Ryan won the U.S. Senior Amateur. He was 62 years old. In a three-year period, 2016 through 2018, he amassed a spectacular U.S. Senior Am record, winning once and losing twice to former national champions (Sean Knapp and Chip Lutz) making Ryan arguably the best senior amateur golfer that most observers have never heard of. Today, in his mid-60s, he remains a factor in the U.S. Senior Am, designed for golfers who are at least 55 years old.
If you play against Ryan, you might call him “Deadly Dave.” Otherwise, you can call him “Plain Old Dave.”
Ryan is a quiet, serious guy. He is plain-spoken and thoughtful. There is an unimposing manner about him. Playing golf, he seems to sneak up on his opponents. If he talks at all, it’s for sure that he means what he says. He grew up in Taylorville, a rural town of 10,000 where he still lives with his wife Amy, that is bursting at the seams with quiet folks.
On the other hand, the high school mascot is a tornado. As if to verify that identity, a real-life tornado roared through Taylorville on Dec. 1, 2018, an event that disrupted ordinary life. In addition to becoming weather experts, the residents have mastered the art of ordering old-timey hamburgers from Bill’s Toasty Shop or speculating why the original George’s Candy Shop closed some 50 years ago.
This is Hometown, USA, and it is because of people like Dave Ryan that I love amateur golf. Anything can happen when amateurs get together to play for all the marbles.
Pardon me, but marbles are indeed an accurate description here because amateur golfers throughout the world are prohibited from accepting prize money and limited to $750 in merchandise awards in any single tournament.
Contrast $750 with the first-place checks in golf’s four major championships in 2018. The winners of the Masters and PGA Championship (Patrick Reed and Brooks Koepka) took home $1.98 million apiece. The largest check, $2.16 million, was awarded to Koepka at the U.S. Open. The smallest, $1.89 million, was handed over to Francesco Molinari in the Open Championship.
To satisfy the mathematician in each of us, let’s make it clear that Molinari’s “smallest” payout was 2,520 times greater than the $750 value of any amateur prize in any legitimate tournament.
To repeat, amateurs don’t play for cash. They play, if you will, for marbles.
Heading into the 2019 golf season, why do I look forward with such anticipation to the amateur schedule? The answer is simple enough: Amateurs are fun to watch and their results can be totally unpredictable.
At the nine-hole Taylorville Country Club, Ryan caddied for a colorful local golfer named Bob Frisina. As a teenager, Ryan started playing in money games. Taylorville golfers were always looking for ways to entertain themselves, so they pretended to be golf pros as they tossed their $5 bills into the pot. Plenty of marbles there.
What we know for sure is that a savvy man from the corn and soybean fields was smart enough and talented enough and feisty enough to win a national championship.
Despite his reserved nature, Ryan possessed a daredevilish streak. From the ninth tee, nobody could match his skill at airmailing a golf ball over the practice green and hooking it back into the fairway. This would serve him well in the 2016 U.S. Senior Amateur at Old Warson Country Club in St. Louis, where he made a hole-in-one on the narrow, 327-yard, drivable par-4 14th hole.
“I couldn’t believe that it went in,” Ryan said. “You’re not supposed to make a hole-in-one on a par-4. I couldn’t see it, but they told me it rolled in just like a putt. I guess it was a perfect shot.”
That ace allowed Ryan to draw even with his opponent, two-time Senior Amateur champion Paul Simson. Eventually Ryan would win in extra holes.
The par of 33 at Taylorville CC was hardly a suitable number to challenge a future stud golfer like Deadly Dave. Regardless, he played and practiced with dedication. Along the way, the future would not be kind to Ryan’s boyhood course. The Taylorville Park District decided to build a new course at Lake Taylorville, and the old course turned to weeds.
So Ryan said goodbye to the baked-out, rinky-dink, pitty-pat test of golf that was squeezed between the corn and soybean fields. Today, he plays at Illini Country Club in Springfield.
Officially he lists his profession as family business, which is one way of saying he plays a lot of golf. He won four Illinois Senior Amateur titles before abandoning that championship for regional and national competition.
When Ryan won the U.S. Senior Am, it was easy to speculate that all those years at Taylorville Country Club prepared him for his assault on a national title.
On the same day at Old Warson, Ryan defeated Simson and Tim Jackson at match play. Both were multiple national champions, and both were overwhelming favorites to beat Ryan. It didn’t happen. After Simson fell in 20 holes in the quarterfinals, Jackson lost, 1 down, in the semifinals.
Ryan was riding high. There was additional drama in the Jackson match. Here is the story behind the story:
Playing the par-4 eighth hole, Ryan and Jackson each faced a 3-foot par putt. “Good-good?” Jackson asked. “Sure thing,” replied Ryan, as both putts were conceded.
“Good-good” exists in match play but not medal play. It is a dual concession and generally is reserved for short putts. Refusing to accept a dual concession such as “good-good” is largely unheard of in North American golf.
Fast forward to the par-4 14th. Once again, Jackson and Ryan faced 3-foot par putts.
“Good-good?” Jackson inquired again. “No, I want to see those balls hit the bottom of the cup,” Ryan answered somewhat defiantly.
Jackson, appearing to be agitated, missed his putt. Ryan sank his putt to win the hole.
To be fair, Ryan’s putt was less treacherous. It was more uphill while Jackson’s was more sidehill. In the end, a strong argument could be made that the match was decided on that hole.
After his victory, Ryan reluctantly confirmed the story. He did not want to be perceived as a putt ’em all guy.
Jackson, the veteran Tennessee gentleman, did not use the 14th as an excuse for his loss. “I missed,” he said, “and when we got to 17 and 18, he made two crucial putts (for a birdie at 17 and par at 18) to win the match.”
There can be a distinct psychological element to match play. Some spectators said that Ryan used psychology to his advantage on the 14th green. Others contended that he simply faced an easier putt.
What we know for sure is that a savvy man from the corn and soybean fields was smart enough and talented enough and feisty enough to win a national championship.
Perhaps he imagined he was back at Taylorville Country Club, where all things were possible. Golf: What a great game.