Sunday’s final round of the U.S. Women's Open marks a year since Jean Reynolds of Newnan climbed the leaderboard as an underdog qualifier with a spunky style and a Georgia Bulldogs headcover. The performance helped earn her full-time pro status, but she’s not in the current Open because of the recent loss of perhaps her biggest fan -- her grandfather.
I grew up tagging along behind my father and two older brothers, to the practice range late in the afternoon. I have fond memories of us and my grandfather David Reynolds -- we called him “Da” -- hitting practice balls and telling stories.
My family is extremely tight. We all live in Newnan. For 107 years, my dad’s family ran Reynolds Furniture, on the court square there, all the way back to my great-grandfather, who was Da’s father. I was named Jean after Da’s mother.
Da was also a very good golfer. He was always in good shape and very active for his age. He grew up going to the Masters when you could just walk in. He followed Ben Hogan and Arnold Palmer and stood right under the big oak near the clubhouse.
I think Da was the first person in our family to play golf. He lived on the fifth hole at Newnan Country Club. My dad grew up shagging balls and caddying. My brothers, Garnet and John, and I followed his footsteps.
I can’t think of anyone who is more like me than Da. We’re not the tallest people in the world. I’m 5-2, and Da was 5-6 or 5-7. Da was very athletic; I’m athletic. He was very quick witted; I’m the same way. Both of us are stubborn, and our sense of humor
Da liked to go watch me play more than give me pointers. The 2009 Open, at Saucon Valley in central Pennsylvania, was such a special week because he was there to see me play on the highest level.
I had been playing on the Duramed Futures Tour and did not qualify for the Open until the end of June. I decided to rent a house at the Open, and it was just an executive decision that everyone was driving up from Newnan. Anytime I have family and friends around, I’m more comfortable, and that week I was so relaxed.
Da didn’t walk the entire course, but on certain holes, he would give me a wink. Every day he told me how proud he was of me. All the volunteers and members were so good to my grandparents and family, and Da loved every minute of it.
I still carry in my bag a lucky buckeye that a good friend of Da’s gave him and he gave to me. Da used to keep a buckeye on a table in the den as his special token.
Da continued to play up until a couple months before he passed. He had had hip surgery last fall, and got a staph infection. He had beaten all the odds pretty much and was in a rehab place in Peachtree City. My father, aunt and grandmother stayed with him every day for a month. I had no doubt when I flew to Pittsburgh to qualify for this year’s Open that I’d see him when I got back home.
The last time we spoke, he was having difficulty talking. He told me he loved me and hoped I was hitting it well. It was always a sweet moment between us when he asked me how I was hitting the ball. He was always so respectful and such a gentleman. The last thing I remember him saying was that he loved me.
On June 2, there was a rain delay at the Open qualifier. To pass the time I checked my phone messages. There was one from a friend who thought I already knew that Da had died.
Then I called my mom, and she broke the news, and I was devastated. I was just ready to get as far away from the golf course as possible.
I’m 25. I’ll have plenty more Opens, but as far as moments like that, I needed to be with my family. This is the first time I have lost someone in my family.
Da was 86. He is buried at Oak Hill Cemetery, which is just a small-town cemetery, but it’s gorgeous.
Da was real big on patience. He taught me the etiquette of the game. He said I could learn a lot about someone on a golf course, and it’s true. I learned about him that way.
-- As told to Michelle Hiskey
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