Golf’s greatest trophy isn’t necessarily the Claret Jug, the Wannamaker, a green jacket or anything else coupled with millions of dollars and World Ranking points. It’s the thing you believe you can and should win. Each time you grip a club, it sits on a shelf in the mind.

It’s the thing you believe you can and should win. Each time you grip a club, it sits on a shelf in the mind.

For the four Jureller brothers out of Country Club of Buffalo, N.Y., now scattered to opposite ends of that state, Connecticut and Georgia, the trophy is their father’s watch: a Rolex Oyster Perpetual Datejust purchased by their mother in 1969 for his birthday. Did she have any inkling the power this small object would exert maintaining the family bond? (Though she’s a force, too. Age 85 and texts all her children every day.)

Dr. Paul D. Jureller II was a reserved oral surgeon who smoked inexpensive cigars, drank Schmidt’s beer by the case and never bought a thing for himself that cost more than $100. Though he quietly prized the watch, wearing through many bands, each night placing it atop his wallet on his dresser. The youngest son, Rich, 53, vividly remembers carefully moving it every time he needed two singles for lunch money.

“He was an unassuming man, and not easy to talk to in a meaningful way, but he believed in the importance of family,” Rich says. “Selfless and generous,” is how the oldest, Paul, 59, sums him. As healthy young adults, it was frustrating and heartbreaking watching a string of medical issues, ending with cancer, take their father in December 2002 at age 64.

The following summer and the summer after, the boys started the “Jureller Open.” The prize was a gaudy polo shirt embroidered with their father’s initials, which Art won both times. (An important golf footnote is that Art’s twin sister, Anne, would marry Carl Alexander, the esteemed director of golf at the Golf Club of Purchase, who would provide free equipment and tips to his brothers-in-law ever after.)

Sometime before the third edition, Rich said, “Hey, whatever happened to dad’s watch?” Absent a will, their mother had given it to the namesake. But Paul readily agreed it was better to retire the shirt and let the winner take yearly possession of the watch henceforth.

MORE: My wife is brand new to golf—here’s what she’s taught me

They play 36 holes gross medal, with a triple-bogey max per hole as a sensible guardrail for middle-handicappers.

Brothers who grew up battling in hockey and all neighborhood sports, none will ever accept a stroke from another. What’s remarkable is how none has become dominant. Each has won at least three times. Not to cast shade on Carl’s teaching, but two rounds in the low 90s still gets it done most years. There was once speculation Dave, the only brother without children, had the best opportunity to separate himself, but the time-intensive parenting years have since passed for all. Though Dave is the reigning watch owner as well as the recordholder of a sizzling 166 in 2020. Sister Anne doesn’t play golf, but has a good swing, so may become a threat yet.

The Open has become a de facto family reunion for aunts, uncles, cousins and even golf buddies, especially when the Open travels to fun destinations. All the brothers’ colleagues, in the fields of law, education, sports management and commercial development, know about the watch. The awarding ceremony usually fetches a sizable audience, though is somewhat muted whenever a brother successfully defends.

I joined the brothers for a game at The Country Club of Troy (N.Y.), where Paul is a member. Art told me about recently watching “Pulp Fiction” with his teenage daughter, who excitedly saw a parallel of her family’s story when Christopher Walken’s soldier-character delivers a monologue and watch from the bowels of history to a boy next of kin.

“What’s so cool is how many people now celebrate our dad’s legacy,” Rich said. “He wasn’t a magnetic guy, but he did the right things and gave us every opportunity.”

“Somehow, we all came out pretty normal,” Paul grinned at the bar.

What will become of the watch when the brothers can no longer tee it? So far, their collective five daughters have not shown interest in golf. “Maybe they’ll come up with their own contest, or maybe they’ll marry good guys who are golfers,” Art says. “All that matters is that the family comes together.”

This article was originally published on golfdigest.com