COLUMBUS — Hylton “JJ” James does not look a day over 79. But he is. By 125 days. And if, God forbid, the 80-year-old Korn Ferry Tour caddie doesn’t make it to his next April birthday he wants his last breath to be on the golf course.
Drop right there, like a 30-foot birdie putt.
“I’ll caddie until I drop dead. I’m serious about that,” James said, standing in what little shade was available at the Ohio State Scarlet Course after finishing caddying for Ben Kohles at the Nationwide Children’s Hospital Championship.
“Who cares?” James continued. “You don’t know how you’re going to die, and then once you die you don’t know that you died anyway. You don’t get up and say, ‘Well, I didn’t want to die on the golf course. I wanted to die around the corner at a bar somewhere.’ I’d rather die here than at some hospital and convalescent home.”
If talk of death makes you uncomfortable, especially for James, know that the great-grandfather from Brooklyn fears worse things than the coffin. Like double bogeys and three-putts.
“Three-putts are just wasteful. You’re on the green and you leave with a bogey,” he muttered.
That is the club-toting caddie talking. The one who wipes irons clean and helps determine wind direction and club choice while carrying a 35-pound bag of clubs in 90-degree heat — just two years removed from heart bypass surgery.
Caddie Hylton “JJ” James says, “I’ve never thought of myself as a great caddie. A good caddie. A journeyman. I know what I’m doing and if a guy plays his game I’ll do my part.” Photo by Adam Cairns/Columbus Dispatch
But there also is James the therapist and counselor, who cajoles and cares for his player when no one else will.
“I’ve told my guys when things get heated, ‘I’m not here to harm you. In fact, I’m the only person on this golf course that gives a bleep about you,’ ” James said. “The rest of these guys could care less if Ben Kohles shoots 80, 90 or 100.”
Since leaving his job as a Los Angeles nightclub manager in 1985 to carry clubs, James has learned lessons that come from spending long and often lonely hours with the PGA Tour and Korn Ferry Tour players, walking more than 25,000 miles along the way.
Before Kohles, who James has been with for five years, there was Mike Hulbert, Robert Wrenn and former Ohio State player Chris Perry. Somewhere in there were Isao Aoki and Joe Osaki, Charlie Hoffman, Bo Van Pelt, Charlie Reimer, Chez Reavie, Kelly Kraft, Tag Ridings and Chase Wright.
But Kohles might be the most special of them all, not necessarily for his talent but for how he touched James emotionally like few other players would.
Following heart surgery in May 2019, James obviously needed time off. Less obvious was how Kohles would handle the situation. Turns out with loyalty and compassion.
“Ben stood by me when 99 percent of the pros on this tour or any tour would have let me go when I had the heart attack,” James said, tearing up. “They woulda said, ‘JJ, you oughta go home now, and if you get a little better maybe we’ll be back together.’ Instead, he came to me and said, ‘Don’t worry about the bag or money. I’ll use other caddies and when you get well and are ready to go, this is your job.’ That’s where the emotion comes from. I caddie for him like he’s my grandson.”
Kohles, who James predicts will become a contending PGA Tour player within two years, clearly has a soft spot for his caddie. And like his bag man, Kohles does not worry about what happens if James collapses on the course.
“He’s happy doing what he’s doing,” said the 31-year-old, who won the Nationwide Children’s Hospital Championship in 2012. “And there’s no better way he’d rather go, anyway, so I’m not worried about it.”
I asked James what makes a good caddie.
“A great player,” he said. “Tiger Woods woulda won the same amount of tournaments with me, too. And that’s no putdown on Steve (Williams). It’s just that he’s a great player. So that’s pretty much it. I’ve never thought of myself as a great caddie. A good caddie. A journeyman. I know what I’m doing and if a guy plays his game I’ll do my part.”
I asked Kohles why James? What does an 80-year-old bring to the table?
“Comedy,” he said. “He brings comic relief sometimes, when I need it. I get upset at him, too, but that’s the nature of it. Everyone gets mad at their caddie.”
James knows when the anger is coming, but after working with so many irritable golfers — “Charley Hoffman and I are good friends, but he’ll wear you out on the golf course,” James said — he mostly lets it slide off, knowing there are bigger problems than whether his player missed a fairway.
That perspective comes into play when calming Kohles, who like most players gets upset when things go sideways.
“I’m 80. He’s 31,” James said. “I don’t get as ramped up as fast as he does. I’m like, ‘Son, settle down. There’s a lot more important things than this.’ People are dying in Afghanistan. People are dying from COVID. And these kids on these plaques …”
More tears. The dam burst as James recalled reading signs posted around Scarlet that tell the stories of cancer patients at Nationwide Children’s Hospital.
“I passed one and got emotional,” he said. “This little kid has leukemia. And a lot of these (players) are running around bitching about their score or the course or whatever. Give me a break.”
Please make it to 81 and far beyond, JJ. More than just golfers need you.