Not small at all: Welcome to the world of professional mini golf

A weekend trip to The Tennessee Open in Jefferson City, TN will show you there is nothing small about the world of professional mini golf.

I confidently step up to the sixth tee, adrenaline-filled and ready to continue my move up the leaderboard. “The Mountain Hole,” they call it — marked by the signature plot of raised ground players must navigate on their approach shots. I come up short. Once, twice, again and again, until I walk off the hole with a devastating 6. Meanwhile, my playing partner — a 13-year-old prodigy who’s built like an NFL linebacker — calmly sinks a hole-in-one. I’m through 60 holes with 48 left to go in an all-day grind at the annual Tennessee Open.

This is professional miniature golf.

The Tennessee Open is my gateway into the obscure world of pro mini golf. Twelve states are represented in the tournament. (My journey from New York ranks me as the furthest traveler, just barely edging out one player’s drive from Kansas City, Missouri). The field is divided into three distinct categories: the real pros, the first-timers, and the locals, all battling for a crack at the $2,000 purse. The host course, Mossy Creek Mini Golf in Jefferson City, TN, is the upcoming site of the 2022 US Pro Mini Golf US Open, an event held annually since 1998, attracting some of the best men and women mini golfers around the globe. The US Pro Mini Golf Association (USPMGA) also includes a Mini Golf Masters in Myrtle Beach, SC, with a plump $25,000 purse and, you guessed it, an honorary Green Jacket. There is even a Mini Golf Hall of Fame.

The Tennessee Open attracts some of the biggest names in the mini golf community. There’s former Masters and US Open champ Joey Graybeal; the triumvirate of old friends Tim Tally, Gary Hester, and Fred Stewart, who have been playing in tournaments together for over 50 years; and a mini-golf power couple of two legends in the sport — Vanette Block, a 2018 gold medal world champ in a World Adventure Golf competition held in the Czech Republic, and her boyfriend Rick Baird, one of only five people in recorded history to score a perfect 18. Upon my arrival, everyone makes sure to tell me about Rick. They talk about him as if he were a god, and he might as well be one — the long white hair and matching mustache give him an air of wordless authority.

I arrive at Mossy Creek Friday morning at 9 a.m. for the practice round. Many of the top players have been here well in advance getting ready for the tournament, but Friday is when the stragglers like me show up for the first time. You might be wondering — what is it that makes a mini golf course pro level?

“We didn’t feel like we needed a pirate ship to stand out,” Kyle Cutshaw, owner of Mossy Creek, tells me. “You won’t see a ton of holes where you just hit it and it bounces around and comes down somewhere.” There are very few gimmicks on the course, if any; instead, they are replaced by rolling hills, steep slopes, and holes that, in some cases, stretch nearly 50 feet long. Even though we’re just putting, the wide fairways and the beautifully manicured turf makes it feel like the closest I’ve ever gotten to playing Augusta. Mossy Creek even comes with its own Amen Corner, as the players tell me how much they fear the risk-reward stretch on holes 11, 12, and 13.

Kyle, whose big personality is as much of a reason to visit Mossy Creek as the course itself, originally worked as Dean of Students at a small liberal arts school in Virginia. He returned to his hometown of Jefferson City in 2017 to build Mossy Creek, fulfilling a need in the area for family entertainment, while also embracing his own childhood love of mini-golf. When he was a kid, his parents used to drop him off at local mini-golf courses while on family vacations and pick him up at the end of the day.

“I would get there when they opened, get that all-day pass, and play as much as I could until I was worn out,” he says. This is not an uncommon backstory in the professional mini-golf community; many told me that they spent days at a time at the mini-golf course as kids, practicing and participating in small local tournaments. Hardly anyone on the mini circuit plays real golf regularly, realizing from a young age that they were drawn to just one aspect of the game. “The putting stuck with me,” Clayton Craft, two-time winner of the amateur division, explains. “Because it was an athletic event that fit well for me. I’m not the biggest, strongest guy, and it fit.”

Pro mini golf is a close-knit community of legends, champs and characters

Upon my arrival to the course, I am introduced to “The Johns” — John Powell and John Kropinak, two longtime friends on the pro mini golf tour who couldn’t be more different. Powell wears a loud, wide-brimmed hat that matches his energetic and talkative persona; Kropinak is soft-spoken and hesitant to sit down for what would be his first-ever interview. But when they practice, they practice as if they were competing together as a team. They each readily compare their notes on a hole without worrying about giving up some sort of competitive advantage — which brick to hit it off, how hard to swing, where to aim. They show me exactly how to play every single shot on every single hole. Amateur champ Craft tells me that this collaborative aspect is his favorite part of mini golf: “There’s a lot of good friendships. You respect each other; you go to the courses, you learn the shots, you help one another when you can, and you’re rooting for each other.” Everyone wants to win the tournament, but the main goal is consistent improvement.

While I watch John and John in their element, I notice one thing right away: the tee box. Before hitting their first putts, they each set their ball down a specific distance away from the railing – using either their foot or their putter head to mark the correct spot. John Powell gives me one explanation: “It’s just finding what fits your eye.” But the quiet Kropinak offers a more detailed analysis: “If you start one inch left or one inch right, it could mess up the whole hole.” What John No. 2 is describing is what separates the pro mini golfer from the recreational one.

“There’s as little luck involved as possible,” Kyle explains. “They want something that can be repeatable, that will really make sure that skill will determine the winner.” The key to mini golf is studying the hole and knowing exactly what type of shot to play to give yourself the best chance at an ace (hole in one).

Vanette Block, the aforementioned world champ, is a bit blunter in her explanation. “If somebody says, ‘Well, I’m sort of putting it here and sort of aiming over there,’ then it’s obvious they’re not a serious player.” She puts me to work, and it soon becomes clear that I am not yet a serious player. “No, no. Again,” she tells me as she brings my ball back to the tee box on the first hole. She makes me repeat the hole over and over again until I play the putt correctly, and then we move on to the next one. By the end of our training session, I’m in dire need of a bottle of water and a nap. “It’s fun, but this is 100 percent work,” Vanette says. “We’ll be out there eight or nine hours a day and get blisters on our feet. And we still don’t feel like it’s enough. We’re not afraid to grind.” Clearly. I left the course at 5:30, an eight-hour shift of playing mini golf with a half-hour for lunch. Meanwhile, some players stayed as late as 11 p.m. and arrived at 7 a.m. the next morning.

2020 TN Amateur Champion plays hole three in 2021 TN Open.

2020 TN Open Amateur Champion Clayton Craft just lips out on hole #3.

Posted by Mossy Creek Mini Golf on Saturday, August 28, 2021

Tournament day is an even tougher grind — six grueling rounds of mini golf in blistering 95-degree heat. Players are significantly less chatty than the day before. To make matters more intense, the famous Mossy Creek sound system is shut off, so as not to disrupt the players. During the practice rounds, I must have heard John Mellencamp’s “Jack and Diane” about 10 times, followed by some form of Miley Cyrus or The Beatles. During the tournament, there was no chance at such joyful distraction.

Pro mini golfers wear golf collared shirts and bring their own putters. Their most important equipment, though, are their “Deuce Charts.” “Deuce,” as in the second shot. A deuce chart – like the greens books that you might see a PGA player use — are carefully designed diagrams that detail the exact break of every possible second putt they may have left (this assumes they didn’t already make a hole in one, of course). These second putts are especially important at a course like Mossy Creek, where a miss can shoot your ball back down to the tee box in many cases. Last year’s Smoky Mountain Match Play winner Joey Graybeal shows me his deuce chart. It may look like incomprehensible scribbles to me, but to him, it’s the key to shooting low scores.

Before the tournament begins, a larger cast of characters emerges. There is a group of volunteers that are mostly Kyle’s family (at one point, an eight-year-old girl working the scoring tent frustratedly hands me back my scorecard and tells me it won’t count if I don’t sign it), a man on-site with a leaf blower who clears off loose impediments on each hole in between groups and a small group of elderly spectators who stayed all day and then mysteriously left just before the final round started. As Kyle gives opening remarks, I learn one particularly useful piece of advice. When the ball nestles up against a brick, players are allowed to use an “official separator” – an 8-inch-long sheet of paper that will eventually become destroyed by sweat in my back pocket – to give themselves more space for their swing.

2020 Champ tees of to start 2021 TN Pro Mini Golf Open.

2020 TN Open Mini Golf Open Champion Fred Stewart tees off to start the 2021 event.

Posted by Mossy Creek Mini Golf on Saturday, August 28, 2021

The first group on the tee is announced: Fred Stewart — last year’s winner — and Graybeal. There’s some applause, and both are given fist bumps by the other players as they make their way down the ramp to the first hole. Stewart hits a perfect putt that careens off three different bricks and stops one inch short of going in the backdoor. “He got robbed!” one person shouts. Stewart flings his arms into the air in exasperation, taps in for par, and we’re officially off.

In my first three rounds, I’m paired with two first-timers: Ethan Alewaine, who came up from Georgia with his brother, and David Heaton, who made the short drive from Tellico Plains, TN with his son. The three of us develop a nice rapport, cheering each other on whenever one of us makes a good putt. There’s about a 40-year age gap between us, but we’re all playing the same sport and having the time of our lives. “I like that everyone can play. Everyone’s got a chance,” Ethan tells me. Vanette, now playing in the group behind us, offers a similar sentiment: “I like that I’m a girl and can compete with the boys.” I see her punctuate her final round with a rare hole-in-one on the difficult 18th to prove it.

I quickly realize I won’t win. When I make a 3, others make 2; when I make 2, others make an ace. I’m also getting dehydrated. Shade is a luxury at Mossy Creek, and I don’t find nearly enough of it. By my fourth round, Kyle sees me aimlessly wander over to the water cooler. “You’re on a death march!” he proudly exclaims. Yes, Kyle.

But I bounce back with a nice ace on hole 15, a curling putt off a steep uphill slope that hits off the third brick from the left and swings down into the cup. I unleash a Tiger Woods-style fist pump. No one else celebrates an ace this much; they simply expect to make a hole in one. But the pressure gets to me on hole 16, and I disastrously leave my first putt up on the top bank. The key to professional mini golf is managing nerves and sticking to the routine. “Your hands go numb,” Vanette says, as she recalls her gold medal win, “You hope and pray that your automatic muscle memory takes over and you can make it.”

No one is better at this than Joey Graybeal.

Graybeal strolls casually around his stomping ground at Mossy Creek wearing a neon green shirt and a UTenn hat. It’s the kind of shirt, and he’s the kind of guy, where you only need to see it once to know it’s his trademark outfit. It’s round 5 and Graybeal is sweating bullets. “It’s just physical endurance at this point,” I hear a volunteer say as I reach for my ninth bottle of water. Graybeal gingerly walks up the lengthy hole 10 and removes a couple of leaves from around the cup. It’s a joy to watch him work as he paces around the hole, studying his deuce chart to figure out the best place to leave it. He slowly walks back to the tee and putts it to less than a foot, right underneath the cup.

He’s locked in a tight battle with a local Jefferson City guy, Kenny Jarnigan, someone who’s played the course hundreds of times but doesn’t compete on the pro circuit. Kyle tells me they’ve been trying to get Jarnigan to sign up for years … he’s that good. Jarnigan and Graybeal go back and forth the whole day, separating themselves from the pack. I ask longtime mini-golf pro Tim Tally — and one of the few mini golfers that actually plays golf — who he thinks has the edge. “I think Joey’s got it,” he says, “He’s already won the Masters, so he can handle the pressure.” Well, heading into the final round with a 1-stroke lead, it’s on Graybeal to prove Tally right.

Graybeal, from nearby Bristol, Tennessee has been playing mini-golf for 46 years. He’s achieved nearly everything there is to achieve in the sport, but the Tennessee Open is the trophy he wants his hands on most. “Because it’s my home state, I probably never want a trophy as bad as I want that one because it’s shaped like my state,” he says, referring to the winner’s plaque that has been molded to look like the state of Tennessee.

Leading by just 1 stroke, Graybeal knew that his victory was far from decided; so rather than play conservatively, he chose to step on the gas. “I turned to my girlfriend in the car, I said, ‘I need that good start. I gotta make three or four of these in the beginning.’” That he did, going on to ace four of the first five holes and never looking back.

After finishing my last round, I quickly climb up to the porch to watch the final group. Pretty much everyone is here by now, including Vanette, who gives me the play-by-play from her rounds. She’s proud of the ace I made on hole 1 after all our practice the day before, and we begrudge our similarly ill fates on hole 4. Graybeal steps up to the long 18th hole and knocks it to three feet. He doesn’t have to stress over it; he can 4-putt from there and still secure the win over Jarnigan. Instead, he rolls in the three-footer and points up to the sky in cheerful exhaustion. Everyone applauds and rushes down to congratulate him. He’s got the biggest smile on his face and is ready to pose for as many pictures as we can take. “It’s gonna take the place of The Master’s and the US Open, believe it or not,” he says of his plans for the trophy, “Because it’s that big to me; it’s my home state.”

Nearly everyone I talk to tells me they don’t play for the money, but that doesn’t stop the top 11 finishers from lining up like giddy schoolchildren when their names and cash prizes are called. Kyle brings them up one by one and hands them their winnings, from which they immediately pay back 25 dollars to register for the following day’s match play. As for me, I finished three spots outside the cash line. It’s a result worthy enough of respect among my new peers.

As Graybeal parades off into the sunset, I notice Danny Baddeley — 12th place finisher — getting private putting lessons from the legendary Rick Baird. Bear in mind we’ve just played over eight straight hours of mini-golf. But Baddeley is determined to play better than his last name suggests. He’s already beginning his preparation for next year’s US Open. Mini golf is more than a hobby to these men and women; it’s part of who they are. For Fred Stewart, a retired meat manager at Kroger, mini-golf has been the biggest constant in his life. “I was just good at it as a kid. We didn’t have a lot of money,” Stewart remembers. “I mean, it kept me out of trouble.” Stewart, originally from Richmond, VA, now travels around the country playing mini golf with his girlfriend and two dogs by his side. He’s moved a couple of times in his life but always makes sure he’s no more than a 10-minute drive from a mini-golf course.

I came home from Tennessee with putting confidence, a few more country songs downloaded on my playlist, and a newfound place in the mini-golf community. Vanette offered me a coveted spot in her mini-golf Facebook group, of which I am now officially a “Mini Golf Enthusiast.” She was also kind enough to give me one of her Team USA patches, which she designed for the US mini-golf national team members. With the Mini-Golf Masters coming up in October, players will arrive weeks in advance to perfect their deuce charts and study the three separate courses they will have to navigate at Aloha Mini Golf in Myrtle Beach, SC. They’ll compete for glory and the green jacket in a burgeoning sport that deserves a not-so-miniature spotlight.