Pinehurst N.C.
What if I told you that a casual golf outing among brothers from West Virginia Alpha has transformed into the largest national Phi Kappa Psi event in the United States, aside from various Founders Day celebrations? It has, and the next chapter will be written later this summer.
This is a first-time, first-person story on how my journey intersected with this growing phenomenon known simply as Pinehurst, which began in the Summer of 2014. If you’ll allow me to reflect on my experiences, I’ll try to make it worth the read.
Back in the day, along with other family obligations, I was also caring for my elderly mom, Betty, a proud member of the Beta Upsilon Chapter of Kappa Kappa Gamma at West Virginia University. At that time, she was speeding through her 90s as one of the oldest living members of her national sorority.
I’d hear bits and pieces about the every-two-year event whenever I spoke to one of the attendees. As time passed, there were more and more stories of the picturesque settings on and off the golf course, the incredible camaraderie and endless laughs over drinks.
Fast forward several years, and Brother Zach Mendelson ’79—the mastermind behind Pinehurst—was in San Antonio, Texas, on business in early 2023. We had dinner on the Riverwalk with our wives, Krista and Suzanne, and of course, WVU athletics was a hot topic.
Eventually, the discussion shifted to the upcoming Pinehurst event and its emerging reputation for good times. I was saddened to report that Betty had passed away about six months earlier, just weeks after her 100th birthday. But as we talked, I told Zach, “You know what? I think this is the year!”
Pinehurst, N.C., is a picturesque small Southern town. Most of its charming shops serve as living museums that celebrate the history of golf. The Pine Crest Inn, where most of the 94 attendees of 2023 stayed, is within walking distance of the legendary Pinehurst Resort and Country Club, which hosted the 2024 U.S. Open.
A Growing Phenomenon
What’s a day in the life like at Phi Psi Pinehurst? What’s that line from the Toby Keith song? Oh yeah, “I ain’t as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was.” Some of the best times of our lives are relived, enhanced, and shared multiple times, depending on how much laughter the story got the first time.
Each blue-sky day you interact with a spectrum of brothers, ranging from those who just graduated, to your contemporaries to those who were in school around the time John F. Kennedy was in the White House.
The four-day experience of enjoying meals with brothers you haven’t seen in decades, broken up by the day’s activities on the golf course or pickleball courts, is topped off every evening with a journey back into the shadows of our faded memories.
For me, it was reminiscing about many unforgettable experiences and parties in the WV Alpha House. The pickup basketball games after class in the driveway have now grown in stature to resemble a Game 6 in the NBA Playoffs.
Another highlight was getting to room with Brother John “Chach” Giamalis ’71 – a former roommate at various locations in Morgantown – and constantly laughing about shared memories that seem like a lifetime ago.
Some daily activities predictably leave guys sore the next day, some more than others. In fact, one morning, there was a line of chairs with IV bags and nurses to administer to guys who needed the liquid recharge for the day ahead. After dinner, of course there’s at least one group sing-a-long that includes a full-lung version of “Take Me Home, Country Roads.”
Here are a couple of personal experiences from my first Pinehurst. One night, we gathered in the large dining room area of The Inn for dinner. With open seating available, I took a chair next to Pledge Brother Dave Hanna ’77, a Pinehurst alumnus. We chatted about the day’s activities for a few minutes before he pulled out his phone and showed me a photo of us together with a couple of other pledge brothers at a party around Founders Day in 1977.
It was one of those seminal moments framed by a flash. I hadn’t seen that photo in probably 40+ years, yet not only did I remember everyone in the photo, of course, but also the area in the House where it was taken. Considering how much life had happened in the interim, the speed of recollection would be like instantly finding a random dusty book in a Harry Potter-esque library. Party on memory.
But, to me, it illustrates how special even the smallest Phi Psi memories are in our lives, all those years ago.
Then on the last full day, it was my turn to play pickleball with the designated group going out that day. When I signed up and even on the way out to the courts at the country club, I mentioned a few times I’d never even picked up a paddle before, although I had played tennis back in the day.
I was assured that was fine; these were only friendly games. We divided up into two-man teams and spread out over four courts. After only a few warm up volleys and a quick review of the rules, it was time to start. OK, great, let’s have some fun.
But you and I both know that once it gets competitive among brothers, all bets are off. We were only about two points into the first game when I noticed It— that competitive look brothers get when they’re keeping score. It’s the same look a zebra gets when a pride of hungry lions emerges from tall grass. It was also clear that I might have been the only one who had never played pickleball before.
A point or two later, I lunged for a backhand volley when my left knee buckled, and I landed on it as I hit the ground. I started to walk it off, assuring everyone I was fine. But if you’ve played competitive athletics, you know the difference between being hurt and being Injured. Three games later, I managed a cross-court winner that earned a fist bump from Brother Jim Hamer ’79, one of the best players that day.
But my knee was screaming at me that if I wanted to be able to walk through the airport terminal the next day, that was my last shot. As we were walking over to the “winner’s court,” I told Jim I’m going to sit out this game. I was done for the day.
More than a week later, I was able to see our family’s go-to sports medicine specialist, who has worked with the San Antonio Spurs. An MRI revealed that I had a stretched ACL and a bruised kneecap, but no tear. The good news is that I was running distances again by Halloween. So, this summer, I may be back on the court, or I may just order another beer.
There are several other stories from my first Pinehurst that I’d love to share, but the magazine’s editor is signaling me to wrap it up. So, here’s a toast to the planning for Pinehurst 2025, a simple golf outing among brothers that has evolved into a nationwide Phi Psi celebration.
Live Ever, Die Never. I’ll see you at The Inn this Summer.
Steve Arters is a digital marketer in San Antonio and former reporter / editor for The Associated Press in Dallas. Known as “Scoop” by his Phi Psi brothers since his sports writing days for WVU’s student newspaper, The Daily Athenaeum.
