This post appeared on the LinkedIn social media site and I thought it was really good! It was written by the gentleman below and I thought it was worth sharing.
The February Superintendent
There is a version of this
profession that the public rarely sees.
It does not wear stripes
or tournament polish.
It does not carry the
urgency of summer mornings or the pressure of member expectations.
It lives in February, with
March just visible on the horizon but not yet arrived.
The February
superintendent is not growing grass.
He is holding ground.
The snow is thinning in
places and stubborn in others. The air still bites, yet the light has shifted
just enough to suggest change. The course is quiet, not asleep, but waiting.
These are not weeks of visible progress. They are weeks of inspection, of walking
surfaces that offer little color yet reveal everything about structure,
drainage, and decision making.
In June, skill is on
display.
In February, character is.
There are no applause
moments here. No perfect greens, no tournament speeds, no dramatic recoveries. Instead,
there are small observations. A low spot that held moisture longer than
expected. A collar that wintered better because of a decision made months
earlier. A fairway that carries weight more confidently than last year. These
are quiet confirmations, the kind only noticed by the person who made the
choices when no one else was looking.
This is also the
season of restraint.
The discipline of not
acting too soon.
Of allowing the ground to come back on its own terms rather than forcing momentum simply because March is approaching and expectations begin to stir. The February superintendent understands that impatience can undo months of preparation faster than any storm.
There
is leadership here as well, just less visible. Staff return gradually.
Equipment is checked without urgency. Conversations are shorter but more
deliberate. The tone set now often echoes through the entire season. Calm in
February tends to produce calm in July.
What defines this period
is not productivity.
It is awareness.
The February
superintendent is measuring stability, not speed. Reading soil, not schedules.
Making decisions that will only be judged weeks or months later. Much of the
profession’s best work happens here, in the stretch where little seems to be
happening at all, while March stands just around the corner, waiting to test
every quiet decision made now.
Golfers will
remember the summer surfaces.
Superintendents will
remember February.
Because February is
not about presentation.
It is about posture.