What it’s like to caddy World No. 1 Royal County Down, host of Irish Open

Whenever an amateur golfer receives an invitation to play a highly regarded course, butterflies dash around their stomachs, and chills trickle up and down their spines. It’s a feeling of excitement, nervousness, giddiness, and disbelief all wrapped up in one.

It’s a beautiful thing, really, and another reason why this four-letter sport is so brilliant. You can sometimes play the best courses in the world, the courses in which the pros exact their brilliance, the courses that shine through your television. Whether it be Augusta National, Pine Valley, or Pebble Beach, anyone who has played courses like these has experienced this sensation—one that comes very rarely, if ever.

I felt this way before playing Royal County Down, which Golf Digest voted the best course in the world.

It is hosting the Irish Open this week, and Rory McIlroy holds a one-shot advantage going into the final round. Perhaps he will seal the deal in his home country, capturing his second career Irish Open victory and exact revenge on this beautiful golf course. McIlroy missed the cut in 2015, the last time this course hosted the Irish Open, thanks to an opening round of 80.

McIlroy also lost the 2007 Walker Cup at Royal County Down. The United States team, led by a young Rickie Fowler and 23-year-old Dustin Johnson, defeated McIlroy and Team Great Britain and Ireland by the narrowest margins that year. Pictures of these matches are located all over Royal County Down’s renowned clubhouse, a delight to everyone who passes through. Images of Jack Nicklaus and Tiger Woods taking on Royal County Down are circulated about, too.

So many little traces such as this make any visitor smile from ear to ear. The topography of the Mourne Mountains, the Irish Sea, and the golf course obviously do, too, but the most underrated part of Royal County Down?

Rory McIlroy putts on the 15th green at Royal County Down during the 2024 Irish Open.

Photo by Jan Kruger/Getty Images

The caddies.

Loopers on this golf course have no choice but to be top-notch. Visitors from all over the world spend a pretty penny to travel to Newcastle, Northern Ireland, which, quite frankly, is not the easiest place to get to. But all those trains, planes, and automobiles are worth it once you are there. Yet, you have more nerves walking from the putting green to the first tee than you did at any point during your journey. I know I did.

Nevertheless, during that short walk to the first tee, you are introduced to your personal guide, historian, and coach—the person who will lead you through the most heavenly golf course on the planet. Royal County Down has 75 caddies for the summer months and a smaller number for the members who play year-round. They all can carry a bag in the traditional sense, but they can also forecaddie for an entire group—an all-important job for all the blind shots this golf course possesses.

So, when I played, I felt lucky to know I would have a caddy for the day. But I had no idea what luck I had drawn with Kyle.

Kyle is currently 24 years old and hails from Hillsborough, a small Northern Irish town about 30 minutes north of Newcastle. Many caddies live in town, but not Kyle, which does not bother him whatsoever. He loves this golf course too much to care. Instead of loathing his commute, he embraces it daily, driving to Royal County Down with a smile, wondering who he might loop for that day. Sometimes, it’s a scratch golfer like himself. Other times, it’s a hack who can barely advance the ball more than 75 yards. Or, on the rarest of occasions, Kyle will have a player who decided to turn Royal County Down into his personal saloon for the day. Once, on the par-4 15th hole, which features a blind tee shot and a rather steep hill, a player got so intoxicated off a bottle of Jameson that he fell into the slope trying to climb it. A buggy from the pro shop had to drive out to pick up the inebriated visitor and bring him back in.

Harry Styles was a part of his group one time, creating a buzz around the property. Rumors circulated among the caddies and their group chats about who would play that day because everyone felt a heightened security presence. Could it be Tiger? Rory? Maybe Bryson DeChambeau? Nope. It was Styles, an avid player and fan of the game overall. He even attended The Masters this past year. Kyle even called him a “pretty good” player.

Another time, Kyle looped for a member of the 1982 North Carolina basketball team. It was not Michael Jordan or James Worthy. But this individual told Kyle he was standing on the free-throw line when Jordan hit “the shot” over Georgetown in the National Championship game. Presumably, it was Matt Doherty, but Kyle did not remember his name. And who could blame him? He began caddying at Royal County Down in 2017 and has caddied there every summer since then. That’s more names, golf bags, and rounds looped than one could count, but he loves every minute of his job.

Looking back towards the clubhouse, with the par-3 10th hole in the foreground.

Photo by David Cannon/Getty Images

How he started at Royal County Down is a funny story, too.

During the late spring of 2017, after finishing his second year of high school, Kyle and his father went to watch the Irish Amateur at Royal County Down. He immediately felt attached to the place and knew he had a future there. So after spotting the caddy cottage, he approached the caddy master and asked, “So what’s the craic?”

He went on to explain that he was now of working age, looking to make some money, and that he was an avid golfer. He had always wanted to be a caddy, especially at a golf course such as this, but his experience was limited.

The caddy master then told him to arrive at the club at 9 a.m. Tuesday the following week.

Kyle did just that. So after receiving his red bib (red for caddies and yellow for forecaddies), the caddy master gave him only one bit of advice: “There’s your fella over there. Introduce yourself, and just get along with him all day.”

That minor instruction worked wonders. He never looked back.

Over time, Kyle learned every nook and cranny, every slope, and every break. But most importantly, he learned every sightline off the tees. This golf course has so many blind tee shots. You often have to hit your ball over a dune with the fairway stretched out on the other side. It’s incredibly uncomfortable, so much so that it leads some to pray before every tee shot. I know I did.

So, after introducing himself on the first tee, Kyle explained how, as a forecaddie, he would stand on top of the dune for the blind tee shots some 200 yards in front of us.

“You have to hit it over my head,” he said with a grin.

After making a mess of the par-5 1st hole, I arrived at the par-4 2nd, looking to bounce back. But the first blind tee shot of the day frightened me more than a deer in headlights. And there stood Kyle, perched atop a dune, with his hand in the air. He looked to be standing in the middle of nowhere, but that was where I needed to go. Did I follow his lead? Absolutely not. I ripped a gross duck hook off the tee, a straight 90-degree pull, which buried deep into the side of the dune. Immediately after impact, my left arm came up, and I pointed left—something we have seen Jordan Spieth do all too often. I tried to play a big high draw, my typical ball flight, but the nervousness of the moment led me to swing too quickly, hence, the duck hook.

What would have taken me an eternity to find that golf ball took Kyle about 40 seconds, the first sign that he knew what he was doing. He threw a towel down next to my ball, and there it was: my Taylormade 4, with its customary purple dot next to the line—a small emblem for my alma mater, Holy Cross.

“Take your medicine, Jack,” Kyle said.

“Take like a 9-iron, hack it out of there, and put it back in play.”

Well, that’s what I did. And then I tried to get too cute with a sand wedge and skulled it over the green. After weeks of anticipation, I began my round at Royal County Down with two double-bogies, laughing to myself in disgust. Kyle must have been rolling his eyes after I told him I was a 5-handicap.

But something happened on the 3rd hole that made me realize Kyle was a unique and knowledgeable caddy.

With the wind racing down the Mourne Mountains and coming from behind me, I somehow put that ugly duck hook behind me and hit an absolute bomb off the 3rd tee. My big, towering, high draw found the middle of the fairway, and a little boost of confidence entered my head. This hole measures 475 yards, however. I still had 220 yards left, and by the time we reached the 3rd hole, it started to rain.

“Get your rain gear on,” Kyle said.

So I put my FootJoy pullover on, got my umbrella out, and trudged to my ball. I thought about nothing but swing thoughts and how I could replicate that same trajectory for the rest of the round.

When I finally got to my ball, Kyle gave me my number: “Hit your 180 club.”

“180?” I thought. “That’s my 6-iron, and there is no way in hell that I can hit a 6-iron 220 yards, even if the wind is behind me! In a driving rain, no less!”

I decided to trust Kyle, and I pulled out my 6-iron.

“Aim for the pole behind the green,” Kyle said.

The 3rd hole at Royal County Down.

Photo by Jan Kruger/R&A via Getty Images

“Don’t even think about the flag.”

The pin sat on the right side of the green that day, preventing us from seeing it from the fairway. A dune blocked our view, which explains why a tall, black and white spiraled post—a Royal County Down staple—stands behind the third green, serving as a target for us hackers.

So, I aimed for the post with my 6-iron and gave it a good wail.

It sounded perfect off the blade.

I absolutely flushed it, but there was no way it would make it, right? Nope. Kyle was right. My ball stopped about 15 feet away from the flag, making me feel like a PGA Tour pro because I just hit a 6-iron 220 yards. The wind helped, but that does not take away from my accomplishment—the last one that I would really have that day. I two-putted for par and walked giddily over to the 4th tee, Kyle’s favorite spot on the property.

The par-3 4th is stunning. It faces the Mourne Mountains, the Irish Sea is to your left, and the entire golf course is before you. The word incredible does not do it justice.

The job that Kyle did that day can be described as that, too. We shared stories about our upbringing, our favorite bars in Killarney, and who we thought could win this year’s Irish Open. Tom McKibbin was Kyle’s pick, and I loved it. McKibbin is an up-and-coming Northern Irish golfer who has won on the DP World Tour before. Kyle has played with him a few times, too. I said I would love to see Shane Lowry play well, and Kyle nodded in agreement.

But we talked about so many different things, experiences, and passions, turning a terrible round by yours truly into a memorable one. He was my compass, showing me where and how to play certain shots. I feel like I let him down with my 91, though, the worst score I have had in quite some time. But it was the best 91 of my life because I had Kyle guiding me through Royal County Down, one of the most beautiful places on the planet.

Yet, Kyle is not alone. From everyone I have spoken with, those fortunate enough to play Royal County Down have had a remarkable experience with their loopers. Maybe that’s the charming Irish hospitality. Or it’s that these caddies get to walk along the shores of the Irish Sea, smiling up the Mourne Mountains in disbelief, saying, “Yes, I get to work here every day.”

Jack Milko is a golf staff writer for SB Nation’s Playing Through. Be sure to check out @_PlayingThrough for more golf coverage. You can follow him on Twitter @jack_milko as well.