From golf caddie to baseball dad

A golfer at Sunset Ridge Country Club approached John Hendricks and remarked excitedly: “I understand you’re the dad.”

“Older brother,” Hendricks shot back as the two laughed.

Hendricks really did spawn Cubs starting pitcher Kyle Hendricks, but suffice to say he’s like no other father of a pro ballplayer making more than $4 million this season.

“He likes to stay busy,” Kyle said in an understatement.

John’s idea of a good day is to awaken at 4 a.m. and report for a job at O’Hare-Midway Limousine Service that requires him to deal with airport traffic for about eight hours.

Three days a week, he supplements that by reporting to Sunset Ridge, the club in Northfield that counts Northwestern coaches Pat Fitzgerald, Chris Collins and Joe McKeown as members. There Hendricks performs glamorous tasks such as transporting bags, cleaning clubs, picking up range balls and, if there’s a need, caddying.

Why does he do this?

“I can’t sit at home and watch Ellen DeGeneres.”

There’s a bit more to it.

John, 60, and wife Ann Marie are helping to put daughter Tori through graduate school at Belmont University in Nashville. She’s working on a doctorate in occupational therapy.

He doesn’t want to saddle her with student loans, just as he doesn’t want Kyle to feel any financial obligation toward him.

“Dad will take care of himself,” he tells Kyle.

For decades, John ran golf clubs in California and served as a teaching professional. He even qualified for the 1991 PGA Championship at Crooked Stick, shooting 83-80.

He has played with Michael Jordan at the Merit Club, in Libertyville, Ill., risking $150 on a $50 Nassau: “He harasses everybody and calls it ‘The Jordan Factor.’ After he missed a putt, I called it the ‘The Pro Factor.’ I ribbed him the whole way. I gave him three (shots) a side at his home course, and he beat me out of $50. I saw him later and said: ‘You’re so cheap you probably still have that $50.’”

John is what you would call effusive. He loves to entertain and make people laugh.

“He thrives being around people,” said Greg Kunkel, the caddiemaster at Sunset Ridge. “I had him caddie for a big insurance executive who said: ‘That was the greatest experience I’ve ever had.’”

Kunkel met John after Hendricks moved to the area four years ago.

“He played here as a guest, we hit it off and he started coming back and hanging out with me,” Kunkel said. “I told him: ‘You should work for me.’ He said: ‘I’m in.’

“He’s always talking to people and making them happy. A lot of positive energy.”

Said John: “I don’t want to run the club. I’ve done that for 30 years. I don’t want the responsibility. I’m just here to make everyone’s job easier.”

John grew up near White Bear Lake, Minn. (“Go, Bears!” if you remember “Fargo”), and said he prefers Midwestern people to those on the West Coast. Less pretentious.

“They get a kick out of it when they find out I’m Kyle’s dad,” he said. “They say: ‘Really? What are you doing here?’”

Kunkel gives John the day off when Kyle is pitching — as he did Tuesday night at Wrigley Field, giving up three runs in five innings and taking the loss as the Diamondbacks beat the Cubs 5-1. But it might be better to have John thinking about yardages rather than exit velocities.

“When he first broke in, I literally could not eat or drink on days he pitched, not even a sip of water,” said John, who pitched through high school. “Now if he’s on a roll, I can sit there no problem. If he’s struggling somewhat, I get a little anxious. He says: ‘Don’t worry, just be a dad.’”

When he watched his son pitch at Dartmouth, John would sit by himself, near the left-field foul pole. Now at Wrigley, John watches from the family section but despises small talk. It’s the only time.

“My friends know how I am,” he said. “I’m into the game. I can’t even sit with my wife. I say: ‘That was a horrible pitch,’ and she says: ‘Oh, he’ll be fine.’”

Kyle said he genuinely appreciates the feedback.

“When I get out of a game or talk to him the next day, he’s always giving me something to think about. And sometimes I need to vent to him,” he said.

What Kyle always took from his dad was the need to work hard.

“When he was playing golf, same thing,” Kyle said. “Up at the crack of dawn, playing 36 holes, that’s what he did. That’s something he instilled in me. He would say: ‘He who works the hardest always gets rewarded the most.’”

John still lives by that credo.

One day in July, he arrived at Sunset in his driver’s uniform: dress pants and a white dress shirt. Ready to ride.

After 1-2 p.m., he was available to caddie.

“I want to lose 15 pounds, that’s my goal,” he said. “In two months, I’ve lost 10 pounds. Carrying a bag up and down the hills, bending over to look at putts. … People don’t realize that walking a golf course is like going 6 miles. First time I caddied, I got done and went straight to the Advil bar.”

Teddy Greenstein is a Chicago Tribune writer.