It was a perfect day at the Pebble Beach Pro-Am golf tournament. The rain that had been predicted held off, and the chatter of fans blended with the soft thwack of golf clubs striking balls. I was standing on the 6th fairway with a friend, watching Rory McIlroy’s group approach, when I noticed a guy standing nearby in a “Pine Mountain Lake” hat. It stood out amidst the sea of corporate logos and colorful golf gear.
Without thinking too much about it, I leaned over and asked, “Hey, have you played the Pine Mountain Lake course?”
The man turned to me with a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling. “Oh, I’ve played it all right. Me and my brothers grew up there. We had a house right on the 2nd tee box.”
I was taken aback. “No way,” I said. “Do you know the Lazzeronis?”
He paused, looked at his brothers, then back at me. With a grin that was both proud and nostalgic, they all replied, “We are the Lazzeronis!”
It had been over 30 years since I’d last seen them, but hearing their names brought a flood of memories. Our grandparents had been best friends and Santa Clara neighbors, living across the street from each other on Wilson Court since the 1950s. In the 1980s, both couples moved to Pine Mountain Lake, and I spent many summers and holidays up there with my grandparents. Whenever my siblings and I visited, we’d always stop by the Lazzeroni house. It was there, amidst the tall pines, that we met the three brothers—the Lazzeroni grandkids—who were small children at the time. My grandparents spent their golden years in Pine Mountain Lake, passing the time on the golf course, playing card games in their dining room, or spending time outside in the shade of the trees, always with their best friends, the Lazzeronis.
It was a different era—a simpler time. And in that moment, standing on the 6th fairway at Pebble Beach, I felt like a kid again.
We stood there for a while, reminiscing about the old days, laughing as though no time had passed at all. It was as if the years had melted away. The warmth, the camaraderie, and the love for golf made for a great moment at Pebble Beach.
Eventually, one of the brothers reached into his bag and pulled out cigars for all of us, lighting them with the kind of casual confidence you only have at a place like Pebble Beach. As we puffed away, taking in the views of the course and the increasing breeze from the ocean, it felt like nothing had changed. The moment was a reunion of sorts, a brief but powerful reminder of how some connections—and memories—never fade.
Eventually as the cigars burned off, we parted ways, each of us returning to our respective paths at Pebble Beach. But that moment stayed with me, a highlight of my trip to the AT&T Pro-Am. Not because of the famous golfers or the prestigious event, but because of the unexpected encounter with the Lazzeronis—who, in that moment, were the best company I could’ve asked for.
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