THE DH CUP

There are certain traditions in golf that stand the test of time.

The Masters at Augusta National Golf Club.

The Ryder Cup.

The Open Championship.

And somewhere well beneath those sacred institutions — both in prestige and overall human behavior — sits the DH Cup.

Conceptualized in 1999 during the wedding festivities of Drew Roberts, the DH Cup began the same way many legendary ideas begin: with a group of SAE fraternity brothers drinking heavily and dramatically overestimating both their golf ability and organizational skills.

Inspired by the grandeur of the Ryder Cup, the founding members envisioned an annual competition built on honor, camaraderie, tradition, and excellence.

Instead, they accidentally created a traveling circus fueled by trash talk, gambling, Tito’s vodka, and men well past their prime trying to ignore the fact that college was over 30 years ago.

The inaugural DH Cup was contested in 2000.

What started as a modest gathering of friends has since grown into a 12-versus-12 annual battle between Dallas and Houston — a rivalry steeped in history, competition, and wildly selective memory regarding actual past results.

Though careers advanced, families grew, and waistlines expanded, one thing remained beautifully unchanged:

The emotional maturity of the participants.

To this day, arguments over gimmies, breakfast ball legality, and whether a putt was “good from there earlier” continue to echo through clubhouses with the same intensity normally reserved for Supreme Court hearings.

Each year, competitors arrive carrying the hopes of their city and approximately six different anti-inflammatory medications.

Traditions:

The motivational speeches.

The first tee nerves.

The annual declaration from at least one player that he’s “finally figured something out in his swing.”

Coby insuring that everyone knows they are losers.

Over 26 Cups, legends have emerged.

Heroes have risen.

Captains have inspired.

Friendships have strengthened.

Milk jugs have been filled.

And countless golfers have carded an 8 while confidently explaining why they “actually hit it pretty well today.”

The DH Cup has never been about perfection.

It is about brotherhood.

Competition.

Tradition.

Houston sitting in a gay circle listening to Led play his guitar.

And the unwavering belief that this year — despite all available historical evidence — your team finally has the guys to bring the Cup home.

The jackets at Augusta may be green.

But at the DH Cup, the only color that matters is whatever color Meek decides to dye his hair and pubes that year.