After my talk in Sydney yesterday, an inspector I was chatting with said, “You like the movie Caddyshack?” because I use a couple of pics from the movie.

He said it was his favorite.

I probably went into too much detail about why Caddyshack had personal significance, so I’ll attempt to be brief:

My first job was as a caddy at a private golf course in Brantford when I was nine years old – about 1972.

I’d bike out to the golf course, wait in the caddyshack until my name was called to haul ridiculously sized golf bags around the course for a couple of bucks.

But I got OK at it, got a couple of regulars – Ladies Day on Wed., Vern on Saturday and Sunday – and even traveled to a couple of tournaments with the club pro as his caddy.

Like Brian Doyle-Murray in the movie, we caddies had an overseer who was, um, weird. And liked the bottle.

One morning when he thought he was particularly astute, he called on the sound system to the caddyshack, and started giving everyone nicknames – sorta like George W. Bush did with reporters.

I became Boog Powell, after the famed Baltimore Orioles first baseman.

It stuck all through high school.

And just like in the movie, we caddies got to golf the fancy-pants private course on Monday mornings, as long as we started before 8 a.m.

But Nolan Ryan’s got nothing on Boog Powell

“The Nolan Ryan Beef Cookbook” is scheduled for May 2014.

I look forward to the food safety tips.

But can it really beat Boog Powell’s 1986 tome, Boog Powell’s Mesquite Cookery.

I have a copy.