There were years I spent in rooms where men spoke in numbers that stopped meaning anything once the sun went down. Growth. Exits. ARR. I had been good at those rooms. I helped build things that other men later bought for more money than most people see in a lifetime.
But something started to feel off. The work was winning, but it didn’t feel like it belonged to me anymore.
So I walked away. Not dramatically. Just walked. I picked up a bag and started caddying on the Sunshine Tour (actual photo below). I learned the game the way it’s meant to be learned — from the dirt, the wind, and the quiet conversations between player and looper. I learned when to speak and when to let the silence do the work.
Out of those loops came small, practical problems that needed solving. A better way to keep a glove accessible. Towels that actually dried something. Headcovers that didn’t look like souvenirs. That’s how Smiley Golf Inc. began — honest gear born from real rounds.
But even then, I knew the game needed more than better gear. It needed something for the men who couldn’t quit it. The ones who kept showing up even after the game had taken their money, their pride, and their weekends.
The name was already waiting. It just needed a home on the course.