The Inaugural · Class of 2026 · Sunday 14 June 2026
The Class of 2026 are about to walk out the gates for the last time. Before they do, their fathers want one proper day on the fairways with them. Four-person Ambrose, mid-morning shotgun, an early dinner in the clubhouse and the silverware that matters — best dressed, best shot, and a few categories the boys will judge themselves.
Most days a father and son spend together get measured in minutes between obligations. This one runs from the first cup of coffee through to dessert.
The mums have had the Mother-Son Lunch on the calendar for years. White linen, fresh flowers, soft napery, indoor voices, finger sandwiches at a sensible hour. The dads have watched on patiently, and paid the bill, for as long as anyone can remember.
Eventually somebody noticed there was nothing of equivalent stature on the calendar for the men of the cohort. This is the equivalent. There is no linen. There is no quartet. There is grass, a flag, a clubhouse and four hours to settle an argument that's been brewing across the kitchen table since the boys were old enough to swing a 7-iron. Not a fundraiser. Not a corporate event. Not a lunch.
It is, very specifically, for the fathers and sons of the Class of 2026 — the year that turned into thirteen years in a heartbeat, and is now down to its final months together.
Best Dressed. Best Shot of the Day. The Apple & Tree. Take On The King. Father-Son Synchronised Shank. Every one of them won on the day — and every one of them filmed. — The Inaugural Field
Run Sheet
Mid-morning rolling start (or shotgun, subject to club confirmation), into an early dinner in the clubhouse with the trophy presentation before sunset. The whole field finishes together.
Teams of four. Two father-son pairs grouped together. Every player tees off — the team picks the best ball and all four play their next shot from within one club-length of that spot. Repeat through to the hole.
No one's score sinks the team. The boy who duffs his drive plays his next from his old man's bomb up the fairway. The dad whose putter has betrayed him plays from where the kid drained it inside the leather. It rewards consistency, generosity and a single moment of brilliance per hole — exactly the format an inaugural mixed-skill field deserves.
On the green: a tee is placed within two inches of the chosen ball — that's where every player putts from. No closer to the hole. No exceptions.
Pace of play: we're keeping the field together so dinner runs to time. Marshals on the course, briefing on the first tee.
Bring two phones, a sense of humour and a willingness to be filmed. The straight trophies are won on the card — every other category is won on tape. No video, no trophy. Videos are handed in when you come off the course; the judging happens over dinner.
The Cardinal Rule
Every trophy other than the Inaugural Cup and Runners-Up requires video evidence handed in at the scoring desk. Best Shot, longest drives, nearest the pin, Take On The King, the lot. Sons film for their dads. Playing partners film the Mutiny. The video reel runs during dessert and the room votes.
Winning team on net Ambrose score. The first names on the wall — for every field that follows to chase.
Second-place team — proof you turned up and brought the game with you.
Voted by the field at registration. Argyle, plus-fours, sun visors, full Payne Stewart — go big. Filmed at the welcome.
The shot of the day, on tape. Approach, putt, recovery — any shot worth replaying. Filmed from behind the golfer with the result visible.
Best matching father-son mishit. Both swings, both ball flights, both grimaces — same frame if possible.
Father-son pair with the most identical swing — or, more often, the most identical grimace. Side-by-side video evidence.
The son who delivers the best piece of constructive advice to his old man immediately after a disastrous shot. Filmed by the other pair in the group. Wisdom from the next generation, on tape.
Best on-course one-liner caught on tape. Sons nominate. The standard is regrettably high.
One nominated Par-5. Filmed from behind the tee with the ball flight and landing visible — or it doesn't count.
Same Par-5. Same rule — film the swing, film the landing. The new guard will have plenty to say about this one.
Two Par-3s. One for the dads, one for the sons. Film the swing and the result on the green — both required.
Voted by peers at dinner. The pair who made the day what it should be — for everyone. No film required for this one. The room will know.
05 / Registration
Field is capped at 30 pairs. First-in, first-served. Confirmation, pricing and payment details will be emailed back to you within a day or two once we lock the catering quote with the club. WhatsApp updates from there.
To be confirmed once we lock the catering and tee-block pricing with Nudgee Golf Club. Indicative range: $180–$240 per pair, including 18 holes, cart, dinner and prizes. Family members joining for dinner only will be quoted separately.
Perfect format for it. Ambrose hides everything. He'll hit a few good ones, pick up a few others, and have plenty to film between holes. Half of him is the camera crew anyway.
The inaugural edition is dads & sons by name and intent. If it lands, a Mums & Daughters companion day in 2027 is already on the whiteboard.
The inaugural field is reserved for fathers and sons of the Class of 2026. That's it. One pair = one Year 12 boy + his dad (or stepdad, uncle, granddad — whoever's been on the touchline for thirteen years). The day is built around this cohort and this moment.
Sons are the official cinematographers for the day. Phone footage, shot from behind the golfer where possible, with the result of the shot in frame. Hand your videos in at the scoring desk when you come off the course — the judging happens over dinner and the reel plays during dessert. No video, no trophy (other than the Inaugural Cup and Spirit of Nudgee).
A small group of Nudgee fathers. Not a school event, not a fundraiser — just dads, sons, and a clubhouse. Contact details below if you'd like to help.