There was a box under the Christmas tree with a US Women’s Open flag sticking out of it. That’s how James Peterson found out he was a volunteer.
The Donegal sophomore, who plays for the golf team, was thrilled that winter morning. He had no idea where that gift would take him five months later.
When Peterson arrived to work as a standard bearer at Lancaster Country Club for the first round Thursday, another surprise was waiting. He was placed with the group featuring Nelly Korda.
“I was pretty ecstatic,” Peterson said. “I didn’t know what to say at the moment.”
For the next 5-and-a-half hours, Peterson carried a sign that delivered stunning news to every spectator who hadn’t yet heard.
James Peterson, a Donegal sophomore, working as the standard bearer for Nelly Korda's group during the first day of the U.S. Women’s Open at Lancaster Club on Thursday May 30, 2024.
Korda, the world’s No. 1 player who won six of her last seven LPGA events, was struggling through a dreadful round.
Standard bearers don’t get their assignments until they show up at the course that day. Peterson arrived at 7:45 a.m. Korda teed off 27 minutes later.
Getting to walk these 18 holes with the odds-on favorite was part happenstance and part luck.
Brian Wassell, a LCC club member and the committee chair of the standard bearers, chose Peterson to join the threesome that included Korda, Nasa Hataoka and Megan Khang because of a gut feeling more than anything.
“James had a great personality,” Wassell said. “He was awake. He got here early. I thought he looked like a good kid and I thought he would enjoy that opportunity.”
Peterson emerged from the tent carrying the sign with Korda’s name in block letters. One of the first people to greet him was his dad, Gary.
“His jaw,” James said, “just about touched the ground.”
The morning took an unexpected turn on the hole that tortured players throughout the first round. Korda’s third hole of the day. The par-3 12th.
Korda put three consecutive shots into the water. Her chances of winning the most prestigious tournament in women’s golf all but disappeared.
Peterson watched in disbelief like everyone else.
“I had to keep track of the number,” he said. “I had to talk to my walking scorer with me. I was like, ‘Am I right? Is this gonna be a 9 or a 10?’”
Peterson was right. It was a 10.
Part of the fun of this event for local golfers is thinking along with great players as they navigate a familiar course. No. 12 turned Korda into a mortal.
“I could relate for once,” Peterson said. “I could watch somebody do what I do sometimes. At least she’s human.”
Once Korda’s score dropped to plus-9, Peterson had a problem. The numbers in his bib only went up to plus-8. For an entire hole, until a plus-9 was found, he had to leave the score blank and answer constant questions about it.
Some spectators looked at Peterson’s sign with skepticism. They refused to accept that the information was correct.
“They were all asking me what was happening,” Peterson said. “They were like, ‘Are you doing your job right?’ I was like, ‘I am. Don’t worry.’ I was sad doing it.”
Korda’s final hole was No. 9. By that point, word had spread and some of the shock had faded. As she wrapped up what she called “a bad day in the office,” fans remained encouraging.
“A lot of golf left,” one said after Korda hit her approach shot.
Once Korda sank her final putt, to record a bogey, she walked through a large crowd of supporters who wanted a glimpse of the sport’s most dominant figure.
Peterson placed his pole onto the ground, fished two numbers out of his pocket and made one more update.
Plus-10.
Peterson carried the 25-pound sign for the final steps of a journey that lasted about six miles. His legs were heavy and his shoulders were sore.
“That was amazing, I’m not gonna lie,” he said. “I was there for the ride.”
That gift on Christmas wasn’t a box with a flag on it. It was a story Peterson will tell for the rest of his life.
