PINEHURST: A GROWING PHENOMENON

By Steve Arters West Virginia ’77

What if I told you what began in 2014 as a casual golf outing among brothers from West Virginia Alpha has grown to one of the largest Phi Psi events across the country, and the next chapter will be written later this summer.

This is the story of how my journey intersected with this growing phenomenon known simply as Pinehurst.

Pinehurst, North Carolina, is a photogenic small southern town. Most of its charming shops are living museums honoring the history of golf. The Pine Crest Inn, where the majority of 2023’s 94 attendees stayed, is within walking distance to the legendary Pinehurst Resort and Country Club, host to the 2024 U.S. Open.

In the early years of Pinehurst, I would hear bits and pieces about this every-two-year event whenever I spoke to past attendees. As time passed and the event grew, there were more and more stories of the picturesque settings on and off the golf course, the incredible camaraderie, and endless laughs over drinks.

Family obligations including caring for my elderly mom, Betty, a proud member of the Beta Upsilon Chapter of Kappa Kappa Gamma at West Virginia University, had kept me from experiencing Pinehurst firsthand. At the time, she was speeding through her 90s as one of the oldest living members of her national sorority.

Fast forward to early 2023 when Brother Zach Mendelson ’79 — the mastermind behind Pinehurst — visited San Antonio on business. During dinner on the Riverwalk with our wives, Krista and Suzanne, WVU athletics were a hot topic, and I shared of Betty’s recent passing, just weeks after her 100th birthday.

The discussion eventually shifted to the upcoming Pinehurst outing and its emerging reputation for great times. As we talked, I told Zach, “I think this is the year!”

My First Pinehurst Experience

What’s a day in the life like at 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.”

Each blue-sky day brought interactions with a spectrum of brothers, ranging from recent graduates to contemporaries to those who were in school around the time John F. Kennedy was in the White House.

The four-day experience of sharing meals with brothers not seen in decades, broken up by the day’s activities on the golf course or pickleball courts, was topped off every evening with a journey back into the shadows of faded memories.

Some of the best times of our lives were relived, enhanced, and told more than once, depending on how much laughter the story received the first time. For me, it was reminiscing about many unforgettable experiences and parties in the WV Alpha house.

One night, while gathering in the large dining room for dinner, I grabbed a chair next to pledge brother Dave Hanna ’77, a Pinehurst alumnus. We chatted about that day’s activities for a few minutes before he pulled out his phone and showed me a photo of us together with a couple other pledge brothers at a party circa Founders Day 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, 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.

To me, it illustrates how special even the smallest Phi Psi memories are in our lives, all those years later. After dinner, of course there was at least one group sing-along including a full-lung version of “Take Me Home, Country Roads.”

For some more than others, the daily activities would leave them sore the next day. In fact, one morning, there was a line of chairs with IV bags and nurses to administer to guys needing a liquid recharge for the day ahead.

On the last full day, it was my group’s turn to play pickleball. On the way out to the courts, I mentioned never even picking up a paddle before, although I had played tennis back in the day.

I was assured that was fine; these were only friendly games. But you and I both know once it becomes competitive among brothers, all bets are off. We divided up into two-man teams and spread out over four courts. After only a few warmup volleys and a quick review of the rules, it was time to start.

We were only about two points into the first game when I saw it — that competitive look brothers get when they’re keeping score. It’s that same look the zebra gets when a pride of hungry lions emerges from tall grass. It also was now obvious I may 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, landing on it as I hit the deck. I walked it off, assuring everyone I was fine. But if you’ve played competitive athletics, you know the difference between hurt and injured.

Three games later, I managed a cross-court winner that earned a fist bump from Jim Hamer ’79, one of the best players that day.

By this time, 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. Walking to the “winner’s court,” I told Jim I was going to sit out the next game. My day was done.

An MRI later revealed it was a stretched ACL and kneecap bruise, but no tear. I was running distances again that Halloween. So, this summer I may be back on the court, or I may just order another beer.

There are a handful of other stories from my first Pinehurst I’d love to share, but the magazine’s editor is giving me the wrap-it-up signal. So, here’s a toast to the planning for Pinehurst 2025.

I’ll see you at The Inn this summer.

If you have an alumni event, please let us know: marketing@phikappapsi.com

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.