TMZ - Michael Jordan's golf course in Florida features flying drones that deliver food and booze straight to the fairways ... and video captured by tennis star Caroline Wozniacki at the place this week shows it's all AWESOME!!!
The course -- which just opened in 2019 after YEARS of planning, developing and constructing -- is insane ... it's called The Grove XXIII and it's built on a huge plot of land in Hobe Sound, FL.
The holes are super sleek, and the club has a dope 15,000-square-foot clubhouse ... but the coolest part has got to be the drones!! ...
The problem for you normies looking to experience it? MJ's club is SUPER EXCLUSIVE -- it reportedly has less than 100 members!!
I'll be the first to admit, I'd love to try The Grove XXIII. (Which just as an aside gets it's name from Jordan's number, in case you only know Roman numerals from Super Bowls, "Star Wars" sequels and Stations of the Cross.) Here's a little of the description from Golf Digest:
Seen from the patio, The Grove XXIII’s holes spool and unspool against the open backdrop of undeveloped pasture—the sea. And from the golf course, the clubhouse is never out of sight, a modernist stand-in for Stanford White’s omnipresent, wood-framed landmark.
[The course] twists in an ingenious double-helix routing that can be played in four nine + nine combinations, and in shorter three- to six-hole loops. The key to the flexibility is the clustering of greens and tees, and a crossover junction after the fourth and 13th holes. Walking off the fourth green, for instance, play can continue on at the fifth, or it can switch over to the 14th and finish in the opposite direction, so each nine can be broken into sections. In fact, it’s possible to play continuous internal circuits without ever returning home, enhancing the likelihood of ongoing presses, overtimes and emergency holes.
The layout sounds incredible and the photos make it look like heaven with four nine + nine combinations. The kind of place that makes me want to live a life free of sin and to repair ball marks on the green that are not mine so the golf gods will send me there to play for eternity in the afterlife.
The club is the Jurassic Park of golf and MJ is the John Hammond who spared no expense. And not that it matters because I don't imagine I'm one of his 100 closest friends or most elite, connected clientele. But like Jordan's Ian Malcolm, I have to say I do not approve. Of the course? Absolutely. Of the booze drones?
Gee, the lack of humility before nature that's being displayed here, uh… staggers me. You stood on the shoulders of geniuses to accomplish something as fast as you could, and before you even knew what you had, you patented it, and packaged it, and put beers and sandwiches into it. You stood on the shoulders of geniuses to accomplish something as fast as you could, and before you even knew what you had, you patented it, and packaged it, and slapped it on a plastic lunchbox.
I mean, what are we doing here? Did the beer cart need replacing? Do we have to replace one of the simple joys of a round of golf with the oohs and ahhs of watching a drone descend from the sky with your order?
I'm no Luddite. I understand the marketplace. Machines come along that do tasks that used to be done by manual labor. It's progress. I don't argue we need to go back to pricing guns and manual cash registers every time I go to the self checkout or weep for the the loss of tollbooth attendants every time I speed past the transponder readers on the turnpike. Time marches on. But where on Earth has been this demand to replace the humble, noble profession known as the Beer Cart Girl.
When have you ever not been happy to see the familiar green canopy of the Beer Cart coming up the path toward your foursome? Felt that swell of excitement as you try to imagine what brands she's carrying. Enjoyed the nervous banter as she goes through her selection. Even the bitter pang of being told she's out of your first two choices. That adrenaline rush of convincing yourself there's a 0.001% chance she's attracted to you. And more than anything, that sweet, blissful Schadenfreude of watching your least self-aware buddy hit on her, humiliating himself before you did because you have filter he does not. As you milk his utter humiliation for the rest of the round and remind him she's in the pro shop right now, turning him into a war story of yet another creep she encountered on the links.
That's what Beer Cart Girl represents. And I for one do not want to live in a world where that experienced is replaced by a machine. Just another interaction between humans that's been eliminated by the annoying whirr of a battery powered motor. No thanks, Jordan. You might have been the GOAT, but I'm putting Larry Bird back ahead of you. And if this movement you've started catches on, I might take you out of my Top 10.
I'm sure once the novelty wears off, Caroline Wozniacki will agree with me.