This year the tournament, named for Rich Moriarity, who died of a heart attack in 1986, turned 20. It has drawn golfers to Missoula like garishly-garbed, nicknamed moths to the fire. John (Spike) Kriskovich was there, after he ran his record in bar fights to 41-0. Rod (Tito) Tomita is a regular, as is Curt (Skinny) McGinness. And so on.
And it hasn't truly ended; by the time you read this, 58 or so people who graced Highlands on June 24 will be in Ireland. A majority of them will be golfing.
“It's like a potato chip,” he said Wednesday from Seattle. “You can't have just one.”
That's why Jim McElwain, lately of the Oakland Raiders and currently on the Fresno State University football staff, was on standby for a flight out of California to the tournament (he didn't find a seat and missed the tourney). It's why Todd Moriarity's old friend Mike Erickson timed his trip back from Japan around the Open.
“The nice thing about it is the way people support it,” Moriarity said. “Everybody's been doing it. For 20 years.”
Rich Moriarity was only 52 when he passed. He was a railroad cop who'd just gone into work on his day off.
“He had to carry a gun, it was law enforcement, and he was always good friends with the police,” said Todd, before showing some Irish black humor. “There was no warning. Aside from the fact that he smoked and drank and was overweight.”
Todd was 23 at the time, and his younger brother Shannon (Camper) Moriarity was 12 or 13. The wake was held at the old Mansion, in the pro shop. Richard Hoffmaster, who most people know as Shadow, closed it for the day. And the policemen honored the tournament's patriarch with a quick 18.
A tradition was born. If there seemed liked a surplus of planes flying into Missoula on June 23, the Moriarity Irish Open may be the reason.
“You know what,” said Todd Moriarity. “There were probably 6-8 people that called me who usually come, but because of Ireland they couldn't. They couldn't do both.”
Right, back to the Motherland. In 2003 Moriarity and friends Bob Smith, Scott Orlich and Tomita and their wives went to Ireland for 10 days. In the midst of some pints at the Marine Links Hotel pub, Moriarity jokingly asked proprietor Mike O'Nagle where would be a good place for the 20th Moriarity Open.
“He asked me how many people we'd have, and I said, ‘Between two and 200,' ” Moriarity said. “ ‘Montanans are crazy.' ”
Moriarity told him about his father, his uncle Pat, and “The Baghole” tradition of high score on Highlands No. 7 carrying everyone else's clubs to the eighth tee (You can learn more about the Moriarity Open at www.baghole.com.)
“He said, ‘You should have it here,' ” Moriarity said.
Back in the States, he put out the word: If we save $50 a month for the next four years, we could all do this. Including air fare, it came out to $2,200 per person. That's if you felt like playing three rounds of golf at the famed Ballybunion Golf Club. If not, you could save $300-400.
And so the Moriarity Open, with little fanfare yet unbelievable support, just got a lot bigger. And bigger is better.
“I always think that it's not about dying, it's about living,” Todd Moriarity said. “Every day might be your last - don't take your good times and your good friends for granted.”
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