Greg McAloon’s golf ball doesn’t fly as far as it used to. At 91 years old, he reckons 150 yards is about all he can manage off the tee these days. But it still flies straight, and that’s always been the point.

McAloon isn’t a Ballan local, at least not by address. He’s spent most of his life on a small property in Springbank, about 20 kilometres from the township. But in spirit, and certainly in sporting terms, there’s no name more synonymous with Ballan Golf Club, a volunteer-run course located between Ballarat and Bacchus Marsh, nestled along the banks of the Werribee River.

Since joining the club in 1963, McAloon has seen it all: two holes-in-one, countless trophies, a best round of “68 off the stick”, and more than six decades of change in the course, the clubhouse, and the people.

Ballan Golf Club’s story began in 1924. Originally a modest nine-hole course carved out of farmland along the banks of the Werribee River, it has since expanded to a full 18-hole layout, with shady tree-lined fairways, river crossings and short steep hills. The club is run entirely by volunteers, with around 70 financial members keeping the course and community spirit alive. For much of its history, Ballan had a healthy contingent of junior players and women golfers, some of whom remain as life members. But in recent years, numbers have declined, members have passed, and today, there are no current female members.

For McAloon, who worked at McCain’s, the frozen food manufacturer, during the day and raised a family on the land, golf was his outlet. He joined the club at 29 and quickly became a regular, competing in weekend comps and social rounds with whoever turned up. It became a way to unwind, stay active, and connect with the community.

“I always had a golf stick in me hands,” he says.

Drawn partners, not chosen ones — that’s how it used to be, and it’s how McAloon believes it should still be.

“In those days, when your number came out, that’s who you played with. You played with everyone in the club,” McAloon says. “Those were good days.”

“It was a good way to get to know people,” he says.” You can’t have cliques.”

Back then, the clubhouse was a small timber building, and membership hovered around 25 to 30. Nearly as many women played as men. There were farmers, engineers, police officers. People who came not for prestige, but for the company, and the challenge of a short but testing par-62 layout.

McAloon found both. He worked his way down to a 14 handicap and won titles across C-Grade, B-Grade, and team events like the Fairbairn Cup. His proudest individual highlight might be those two aces: one more than 30 years ago, the other just 12 years back, at age 79.

But it’s not just the scores that matter. It’s the rhythm of it all — the physical, mental, and social routine of being at the club. Golf has never just been about scores or trophies for McAloon. It’s been about movement, routine, and purpose — the same principles that keep him working outside every day. The 91-year-old still chops wood for his heater and stove, maintains a thriving veggie patch, and fills the soil with barrow-loads of manure from his grandkids’ ponies. His voice beams with pride as he rattles off what’s growing this season: carrots, parsnips, pumpkins, tomatoes, rhubarb and “spuds” — 20 acres of them.

“You’ve got to have the physical ability,” he says. “And why I’ve still got it is because I work all the time. I can’t sit inside all day.”

The physical strength he has built working the land has served him well on the course. He never imagined still playing into his nineties, but a mixture of stubbornness, routine, and a trusty golf cart means he rarely misses a round. At Ballan, carts have quietly extended the game for those who once might have packed away their clubs. For McAloon, it’s the perfect blend of accessibility and challenge that makes golf a unique sport, a sport where age slows you down but doesn’t sideline you completely.

“If we didn’t have carts, the club wouldn’t exist,” he says matter-of-factly. “You’ve got people playing well into their 70s now because of it.”

More recently, other adjustments like the new preferred lie rules for wet Ballan winters and changes to the course rating have helped keep it playable for members of all abilities.

Greg doesn’t like the cold much anymore, not since the hip replacement — the one the doctor said would last 30 years.

“Well, 30 years is nearly up,” he jokes.

But even on winter mornings, he’ll still come down to the course when he can, scorecard in hand, stories to share, and Jack Daniels to be drank.

On the wall of the Ballan clubhouse hangs a black-and-white photo from decades ago. Of all the faces staring back, only two are still around — McAloon and his brother-in-law, who no longer plays. Part of aging is living through loss. Friends and fellow members have come and gone—mates like Jack Papworth, Tom Clifford and Col Swan. To McAloon, they’re not just former players, they’re pillars of the club’s history.

Last year, Ballan Golf Club celebrated its centenary. More than a hundred people turned out to play a commemorative round, with Golf Australia officials among them. Before tee-off, McAloon was invited to speak. His voice caught as he remembered those who came before him, men who helped build the club up from scratch. It was a moving moment, one that summed up his place in the club’s long and proud history.

Just recently, he travelled to Rich River with family and played a round alongside his grandkids.

“Three of us played.” He grins. “And I tell you what, I’m always very straight”

McAloon knows he’s no longer the longest hitter. But his short game? Still sharp. And his impact on the club? Lasting. As of last year, he’s brought his handicap back from 31 to 19, a fitting reminder that improvement doesn’t come with an expiry date.

Article: Cam Burt is a second-year Media and Communications (Sports Media major) student at La Trobe University. You can follow him on Twitter @coachcavcam.

Cover photo: supplied by author.