The best things in life are freeexcept golf.

Golf costs money.

Unless you’re a short drive from Sharon, Pennsylvania, in the rolling western reaches of the state where Tom Roskos and Adam Scott (no no that Adam Scott) were raised.

Born seven years apart, Roskos, 47, and Scott, 40, weren’t friends growing up, but they had a lot in common. Both came from modest homes. Both excelled in sports. And they both learned about golf at the Buhl Park golf course, a lush 9 hole layout That was not a bargain price. It was better than that.

For anyone, at any time, the price of a round was nothing. Nothing at all. That is still the case today.

“When you’re a kid, you don’t know any better, so you don’t know how lucky you are to have a free course in your backyard,” Roskos says. “But now, looking back, we appreciate how lucky we were and recognize the importance of keeping a place like this alive.”

How a no-fee camp (one of the few of its kind in the country) came to be is a story of great wealth and generosity. It revolves around early 20th century industrialist Frank H. Buhl, who was born in Detroit but built his life and fortune in Sharon (70 miles north of Pittsburgh), where, at the end of the 19th century, he founded a steel company. that bore his name.

Although Buhl and his wife, Julia, resided in a Romanesque castle, they were not one percent oblivious to local concerns. They made generous donations to the community, funding the construction of the area’s first hospital, as well as a cemetery, a library, and an Episcopal church. Among the Buhls’ other gifts to the public was a 300-acre parcel, which they purchased and transformed into a park, replete with hiking trails, an 11-acre lake, and a 9-hole course that opened in 1914.

Over time, locals began calling the field “Dum Dum”, although it was not thought to be a derogatory name. Most likely it was a term of endearment for a track that welcomed all levels. No elite skill was required. Money wasn’t either. The Buhls had taken care of that part, who endowed the park in perpetuity with the aim of maintaining its free services.

Details like that, which Roskos and Scott missed when they were kids, are a priority for them these days.

In adulthood, as in childhood, they have much in common. From their early days on the Dum Dum course, both continued their careers as certified PGA professionals. In those roles, their paths crossed on multiple occasions. In recent years, they have become more intertwined than ever. Scott is now the director of golf at Buhl Park and Roskos is the executive director, which technically makes him Scott’s boss. But the titles don’t matter. The most important point is this: together, they are stewards of the free 9-hole course that served as a springboard into the game.

Roskos has been in his job the longest, having signed in 2015, by which time the course had seen better days. For all the Buhls’ generosity, the funding they left behind had limits. His donation allocated $650,000 a year for the entire park and all its facilities, not just the field. It was enough money to keep greens fees at zero, but not enough to properly maintain the grounds.

As conditions worsened, the tide slid toward the kind of death spiral that dooms so many cash-strapped operations to ruin. The board of directors overseeing the donation was one vote away from closing Dum Dum.

Recognizing the need for revenue, Roskos spearheaded a series of fundraisers and raised the money to reopen a practice field which had been added to Buhl Park in the 1990s, only to close in 2010. That was something. The ball cubes brought a little dough. But it hardly represented a long-term solution. The budget was still threadbare. There was no clubhouse or pro shop, just a sign-up sheet at the range. Field maintenance was minimal. Fairways and greens were mowed only once a week.

Dum Dum’s course was still limping into 2020, when Roskos and Scott had a chance meeting in an unlikely setting. Scott, who was between golf jobs, was selling cars at a local dealership and Roskos was looking for a vehicle. While chatting in the parking lot, the two began talking about Buhl Park.

“We both agreed that just because a course is free doesn’t mean it has to be bad,” Scott says. “But for it to be sustainable, more parts would have to be run as a business.”

In June of that year, Scott came on board to help with that. The timing was propitious, as golf was on the cusp of a pandemic boom. Building on that momentum, Roskos and Scott sought financial support, raising money from private donations and grants, which they put toward building a small pro shop with two pay-per-play shops. simulator laurels.

More income came in, as did donations, giving way to a more ambitious project: a clubhouse, with three simulators and a free-to-use indoor putting green, equipped with high-tech training tools.

Every bit counts. A large bucket of practice balls at Buhl Park costs $10. The simulators rent for between $20 and $40 an hour, depending on the day and time of year. You can buy snacks and drinks at the pro shop, but a round still costs the same as always: nothing. And a course that once had an annual loss of $250,000 is now close to breaking even. By adding clinics and other offerings, Roskos and Scott envision a day when they could turn a profit, which would be reinvested in the course.

Meanwhile, staffing and maintenance have increased. The streets are well maintained. Vegetables are now cut five times a week. On a recent fall afternoon in Buhl Park, with foliage appearing on the tree-lined layout, the impact of these efforts was evident. The field was full. Two of the simulators were occupied. And the Dum Dum course was getting a lot of action.

A par 34 of just over 2,300 yards, it would never be mistaken for a championship route. But it’s all a golfer like George Mesaros could ask for.

Mesaros, a 65-year-old military veteran who served two tours of duty in the Middle East, was among those in the fall air, enjoying a course he plays four times a week. Standing on the tee box of the 4th hole, a short, straight par 4, he wiggled, swung, split it in half and smiled.

“This place is invaluable to me,” he said. “And the price can’t be beat.”

For more information about Buhl Park or to offer your support, visit buhlpark.org.