Last Monday night, Carter Jenkins was sitting at home with his parents in North Carolina when a message came through on his father’s phone. It had been a long week even before the longest day in golf arrived: US Open qualifying.
In this annual test of nerves, skill and stamina, Jenkins went through 36 holes and then a seven-man playoff. In the end, the world number 294, who plays on the Korn Ferry Tour, achieved his first major championship.
But he was still conflicted: Hours earlier, while he was at the Durham course, his parents were in nearby Raleigh, celebrating the life of another young golfer. Grayson Murray, the two-time PGA Tour winner who, just nine days earlier, had taken his own life. He was 30 years old. “Devastating,” Jenkins says.
Jenkins and Murray grew up together. They were teammates in high school and partners in crime on the golf courses around here. Murray once caddied for Jenkins. He most often emptied his friend’s wallet.
“We never played for pride; we were always trying to make a buck or two,” Jenkins recalls. “He hit my tail seven times until Sunday.”
Carter Jenkins, who grew up with the late Grayson Murray, will play his first major this week.
Murray, a two-time PGA Tour winner, tragically took his own life recently; he was only 30 years old.
However, for years, until his suicide, Murray was locked in a battle with himself. He was open about his struggles with alcohol, anxiety and depression. Jenkins ran into him a few weeks ago; They chewed the fat, as always.
“It seemed like he was excited about the opportunities that were coming his way,” Jenkins recalls. “We talked about this week, whether he was going to be in the Open or not… we went our own way and that was it.”
That was it. “I hated not being able to be (at the funeral) in person for his family,” Jenkins says.
Fortunately his family was there and they recorded it on television. So, after reserving his place at Pinehurst, Jenkins headed to his house and sat alone. “I went ahead and saw it,” he explains. “Just when it was still at the forefront of my mind.”
Soon, that text message arrived. “Grayson’s dad texted my dad congratulating me,” Jenkins says. “Just hours before, he had held a funeral for his son.”
Jenkins and Murray, photographed in 2013, were high school teammates in North Carolina.
The 28-year-old adds: “They are wonderful people and I think that says a lot about who they are.”
The message also served as evidence of something Jenkins had felt that day.
“I knew Grayson was looking down on me,” he says. ‘It’s hard to put it into words. They are more feelings, emotions. I knew he was there… I could feel that he would have been proud of me as were his parents. And I guess he manifested himself later. With that text.
Jenkins reached out to Murray’s parents shortly after their son’s death. “It took me a couple of days to even realize what I was going to say, until I got to the point where I realized: There’s nothing I can say.”
This Monday, Jenkins arrived at Pinehurst No. 2 for the biggest week of his career so far. He felt “emotionally revived.” These are uncharted waters but familiar territory. He has played here many times. He is about an hour’s drive from Wildwood Green, where he and Murray spent their youth.
“The best memories are how much better he was than everyone,” Jenkins says. ‘The things he could do at 14, 15 years old…’ On the field (the control, the consistency) and on the field, where Murray was throwing punches from one end to the other, while the others could only watch.
“He was a very, very special individual.” And he made them all better. The only drawback? “He was a competitive son of a bitch,” Jenkins says. It made you want to punch him in the face every once in a while!
Jenkins, 28, ran into his childhood friend just weeks before taking his own life.
Last week, the Memorial Tournament paid tribute by putting Murray’s name on the board.
When they were kids, they did nothing but play golf. Their daily routine took them to school, to class and to bed.
They never talked about those demons. “Everyone has them; if you say you don’t have them, then you’re blessed or you’re lying to yourself,” Jenkins says. “He never tried to hide who he was. He never tried to hide from anything.
And the tragic truth? “He was back to being that happy kid again,” Jenkins says. ‘I’ve tried to understand that general question: why? I’ve gotten to the point where you’ll never know. Instead, there is only one consolation. “I feel better knowing that he is completely at peace now,” he adds.
On May 25, Jenkins was near here, at his home in Raleigh. He had just finished a workout when he received a couple of text messages. One from his caddy, saying, ‘Do you know what happened to Grayson?’
All Jenkins had seen was that he had withdrawn from the Charles Schwab Challenge in Texas the day before. “I don’t know why,” he told his caddy. ‘Then the next message I opened was in a group chat of my friends. And it was the article. Now I knew it.
“It was like my mind went blank,” Jenkins explains. ‘It was like a complete out-of-body experience. I didn’t even know what to think. What to say. To do. I sat there for five minutes. Jenkins finally found a way to get past all the shock and disbelief. “The only thing I could do at the time, try to clear my head, was go to practice. Try to get into my own little bubble,” he says. Golf has become a place of refuge.
Murray, who died aged 30, celebrates after winning the Sony Open in Hawaii earlier this year.
Murray’s golf bag, and a bib with his name on it, are on display at the Raleigh Country Club in May.
‘This puts everything into perspective: golf is already a game of life. And now I feel it even more,” he explains. “You really understand how golf has its ups and downs…just like life.”
But? ‘It doesn’t define you. It doesn’t make you who you are. It’s not what people remember.
“Everyone remembers Grayson as a phenomenal golfer, yes. But I also remember him as a genuinely happy and kind-hearted child and friend. That’s what matters most to me.’
So golf has allowed Jenkins to “disconnect” from some of the tragedy. “But it’s also good to know that… this game isn’t what life is really about.”
Fortunately, during this terrible time, Jenkins has been surrounded by the “comforts” of home. Friends and family have been close. Some have come out to observe it. He has seen his nieces and nephew. “I get some of Mom’s home cooking,” Jenkins adds. ‘Again, perspective…’ Mom’s spaghetti and meatballs, or her Mexican chicken, bring childhood memories to the surface.
The same goes for weeks like this one, when Jenkins will compete in his first major on a course he’s been to “countless” times.
It’s been that kind of period: juggling old experiences and new ones. Golf is a game of life.
A locker in the Pinehurst clubhouse has been dedicated to Murray and his ‘accomplishments’
“I’m really trying to come to terms with it,” Jenkins says. “This isn’t how I’m supposed to be here.” Murray was. A locker in the Pinehurst clubhouse has been dedicated to him and to his “accomplishments that earned him a place in the 124th US Open Championship.”
Instead, Jenkins will play without his old friend. Fortunately he has a new companion: ‘perspective’.
“Sure, you can look up and down, if you want, and see any number of players who have achieved much more than me,” he says. “You may feel intimidated or understand that we are all playing the same game.”
Jenkins adds: ‘My caddy and I… will go over our routines and our businesses. But, above all, we are going to enjoy the week and spend it smiling.”
