As we head towards the British Open, which the Brits arrogantly refer to as The Open Championship (like we refer to baseball’s World Series), let’s take a look at what is going on in the golf world.
After his surprise win in the U.S. Open Lucas Glover is becoming “the guy who won’t go away.” I was willing to bet you that by the time Father’s Day 2010 rolled around, the most wrongly answered golf trivia question would be, “Who won the 2009 U.S. Open?” By the way, did I tell you that I might not be perfect?
There are some things that are definitely might be happening and it’s not all good.
There is definitely growing unrest among the LPGA rank and file. Word has it that there was a “special” dinner held during the recent Jamie Farr Classic. Evidently, the restaurant’s special of the night was “Roast Bivens au jus.” The girls aren’t thrilled with Commissioner Carolyn Bivens’ strategy.
While it would have been difficult to forecast the economic debacle now gripping the country from very far out, the LPGA has been hard hit. Unfortunately, under Bivens’ direction, most of the tournament contracts run out this year. The climate calls for conciliatory communication between the LPGA and their tournament sponsors. Instead, Bivens has maintained a hard line in sponsor negotiations.
The results haven’t been good. It could be that the Tour will lose three tournaments in Hawaii (they’ve lost Kapalua for certain). They may also have none in Florida or Arizona. This is a major disaster waiting to happen.
Here’s something you may want to think about. The big announcement out of the LPGA Daytona, Fla. headquarters has been about a new tournament to be held in Korea in 2010. Given the heavy Korean population already on the LPGA rolls, it’s not a stretch to think that the LPGA is heading towards being part of a hybrid that will fold the Asian LPGA and the US LPGA tours into one.
This won’t be a victory, but it will be a solution. However the odds are that Bivens won’t be a part of it. The players view her more as a major part of the problem and definitely not the solution.
As a contrast, the PGA Tour will have the bulk of their sponsorship contracts expire at the end of the 2010 season. Don’t be surprised if purses drop in the new contracts for part if not the entire term. Players will still make a great living because they won’t lose many sponsors. However, I can see a major restructuring of the FedEx Cup.
What may suffer if the economy doesn’t come around in short order are the Nationwide and Champions Tours. The only thing they have going for them are the relatively inexpensive purses. Their Golf Channel TV exposure isn’t all that attractive and the schedule breaks don’t allow a build up of continual interest. They should survive, but who knows in what form.
Yet again, out thoughts and prayers are with the Mickelson family as word has come out that Phil’s mother has also been diagnosed with breast cancer. Two of the most important women in Phil’s life have been diagnosed with this terrible disease. NO family deserves this.
Bartender, sorry but this bearer of bad news has again lost his thirst. It has to get better. By the way, allow me to be the first to prematurely congratulate Tiger on his latest addition to the Major trophy case. Maybe next time, he can favor us with a goblet of claret.
See you on the first tee,
Jack
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
My heart and mind not on U.S. Open...
I realize that my mind should be at Bethpage Black and I should be telling you who is going to win this week’s U.S. Open and why. Sorry, but I can’t get there. My mind is divided right now and one place it isn’t is Bethpage Black.
You see my mind is in a hospital room in Jackson, Miss., and a home in San Diego and my heart is split between the two.
You’ve probably read, or heard about the tragic car accident that befell golfer Ken Green. His RV plunged off the side of a highway in Mississippi following a front tire blowout and plunged 20-something feet before crashing into a tree. The crash killed Green’s brother and his girlfriend as well as Ken’s German shepherd, Nip. It also left Green with a right leg so mangled that it had to be amputated. His right orbital bone is so smashed that extensive surgery is required to reconstruct it and there’s a deep gash on the side of his head that is described as “troublesome.”
His medical charts alone are enough to sicken you. It’s what is not written that is the real tragedy.
You see, Ken Green isn’t your typical 50-year old professional golfer who glided with seamless effort from the PGA Tour to the Champions Tour. Ken Green’s trip to the Champions Tour was through a mine field where demons grabbed for a piece of his very being every step of the way. He was in the abyss of living hell.
After a painful divorce which left him almost penniless, Green had his first bout with the demon that threatened at times to end his life, clinical depression. When you type it or say it, the phrase seems harmless enough. In truth, it’s a cover up for a demon telling you that “I’m going to make you hate yourself so much that you’ll take your own life.”
There was a day when that demon would usually win. Even with all the tremendous steps that have been made in treating this disease, it’s not a case where if you take a pill it will clear up in a day, or two. Quite often it’s two steps ahead and one step or even more back. It takes determination and it takes love from others.
For years, Green lingered in the morass. He lost his golf game that had earned him five PGA Tour victories. He lost his money and he lost friends. Most of all, he lost his mind. Only through sheer guts and determination coupled from love and assistance from his family and friends like his buddy Mark Calcavecchia did he get through.
His game started to come back as did control of his life. Through a lot of help from Calcavecchia, he was able to gain sponsors exemptions into Champions Tour events. When his RV left the road in Mississippi he had won $123,906 in limited action. He had more sponsor exemptions in his pocket and he was on his way to gaining some playing status for the 2010 season. Some think it was more money than he’d made in the entire last decade. Life was getting better and now this.
He’s said through a spokesperson that he’s going to fight back and play again on the Champions Tour with help of a prosthesis. This is a good sign. He’s going to need that spirit to face what lies ahead for him. He’d better walk the straight white line when he’s back on his feet. The demons have his scent and they’ll be after him. I pray they lose again.
Ironically, back in the mid-80s when Green was at his peak, he was asked what would be a mark of success that would tell him that he’d made it?
“If when I die, at the end of the national news broadcast, they flashed my picture and said, ‘Pro golfer Ken Green died today.’ I think that would be great,” he answered.
You’ve made a lot of national broadcasts, Kenny, and you’re still alive. Let’s keep it that way.
Meanwhile, on the west coast sits, by all accounts, just a great lady. If she wasn’t so humble and down to earth, she might be the target of every catty remark made around golf. She has it all. She’s bright, beautiful, wealthy, has great healthy children and a husband who truly loves her. Yes, one would think, she has everything.
A few weeks ago she received news that she has even more. Amy Mickelson has breast cancer. I don’t know where the shock came from. Unfortunately, I know people and families who have been devastated by this despicable disease, but it wasn’t supposed to happen to her.
To his credit, Phil immediately cut short his playing schedule, taking an “indefinite leave of absence” from the PGA Tour. This came as no surprise because in the 1999 U.S. Open at Pinehurst, he left his cell phone on during play because Amy was due to have a baby at anytime. Phil swore he’d walk off the course immediately if the call came that Amy was in labor. Looking out for her man, Amy didn’t go into labor until the following day, so Phil finished second in a battle with Payne Stewart at Pinehurst.
Phil returned to the Tour last week at Amy’s insistence and he’s in the field at Bethpage some 3,000 miles away. He says the four to five hours he spends between the ropes gives him an opportunity to think about something other than his wife’s disease.
I’m sure that playing is cathartic for Phil, but I wonder what it will be like for him starting Thursday on his first tee. Back in 2002 at Bethpage, the vaunted, tough New York fans adopted him as their hero. It was a different time back then. New York was still recovering from the shock of 9/11. They needed their own hero. Tiger belonged to the world. Phil belonged to New York.
I hope Phil understands that all the pink shirts, hats, visors and pants being worn in what is predicted to be a huge gallery following him isn’t just New York having a bad clothes day. It will be a transference of energy through him to Amy telling them both that New York and the world for that matter is praying for her and to a lesser degree him as well to help see them through what could be difficult days to come.
Some have offered in print that it would be great if Phil could win this week. I have to believe that Phil would gladly give up all wins past and future if Amy could win her battle with cancer.
Bartender, take the rest of the day off. I’m just not in the mood if you know what I mean.
See you on the first tee,
Jack
You see my mind is in a hospital room in Jackson, Miss., and a home in San Diego and my heart is split between the two.
You’ve probably read, or heard about the tragic car accident that befell golfer Ken Green. His RV plunged off the side of a highway in Mississippi following a front tire blowout and plunged 20-something feet before crashing into a tree. The crash killed Green’s brother and his girlfriend as well as Ken’s German shepherd, Nip. It also left Green with a right leg so mangled that it had to be amputated. His right orbital bone is so smashed that extensive surgery is required to reconstruct it and there’s a deep gash on the side of his head that is described as “troublesome.”
His medical charts alone are enough to sicken you. It’s what is not written that is the real tragedy.
You see, Ken Green isn’t your typical 50-year old professional golfer who glided with seamless effort from the PGA Tour to the Champions Tour. Ken Green’s trip to the Champions Tour was through a mine field where demons grabbed for a piece of his very being every step of the way. He was in the abyss of living hell.
After a painful divorce which left him almost penniless, Green had his first bout with the demon that threatened at times to end his life, clinical depression. When you type it or say it, the phrase seems harmless enough. In truth, it’s a cover up for a demon telling you that “I’m going to make you hate yourself so much that you’ll take your own life.”
There was a day when that demon would usually win. Even with all the tremendous steps that have been made in treating this disease, it’s not a case where if you take a pill it will clear up in a day, or two. Quite often it’s two steps ahead and one step or even more back. It takes determination and it takes love from others.
For years, Green lingered in the morass. He lost his golf game that had earned him five PGA Tour victories. He lost his money and he lost friends. Most of all, he lost his mind. Only through sheer guts and determination coupled from love and assistance from his family and friends like his buddy Mark Calcavecchia did he get through.
His game started to come back as did control of his life. Through a lot of help from Calcavecchia, he was able to gain sponsors exemptions into Champions Tour events. When his RV left the road in Mississippi he had won $123,906 in limited action. He had more sponsor exemptions in his pocket and he was on his way to gaining some playing status for the 2010 season. Some think it was more money than he’d made in the entire last decade. Life was getting better and now this.
He’s said through a spokesperson that he’s going to fight back and play again on the Champions Tour with help of a prosthesis. This is a good sign. He’s going to need that spirit to face what lies ahead for him. He’d better walk the straight white line when he’s back on his feet. The demons have his scent and they’ll be after him. I pray they lose again.
Ironically, back in the mid-80s when Green was at his peak, he was asked what would be a mark of success that would tell him that he’d made it?
“If when I die, at the end of the national news broadcast, they flashed my picture and said, ‘Pro golfer Ken Green died today.’ I think that would be great,” he answered.
You’ve made a lot of national broadcasts, Kenny, and you’re still alive. Let’s keep it that way.
Meanwhile, on the west coast sits, by all accounts, just a great lady. If she wasn’t so humble and down to earth, she might be the target of every catty remark made around golf. She has it all. She’s bright, beautiful, wealthy, has great healthy children and a husband who truly loves her. Yes, one would think, she has everything.
A few weeks ago she received news that she has even more. Amy Mickelson has breast cancer. I don’t know where the shock came from. Unfortunately, I know people and families who have been devastated by this despicable disease, but it wasn’t supposed to happen to her.
To his credit, Phil immediately cut short his playing schedule, taking an “indefinite leave of absence” from the PGA Tour. This came as no surprise because in the 1999 U.S. Open at Pinehurst, he left his cell phone on during play because Amy was due to have a baby at anytime. Phil swore he’d walk off the course immediately if the call came that Amy was in labor. Looking out for her man, Amy didn’t go into labor until the following day, so Phil finished second in a battle with Payne Stewart at Pinehurst.
Phil returned to the Tour last week at Amy’s insistence and he’s in the field at Bethpage some 3,000 miles away. He says the four to five hours he spends between the ropes gives him an opportunity to think about something other than his wife’s disease.
I’m sure that playing is cathartic for Phil, but I wonder what it will be like for him starting Thursday on his first tee. Back in 2002 at Bethpage, the vaunted, tough New York fans adopted him as their hero. It was a different time back then. New York was still recovering from the shock of 9/11. They needed their own hero. Tiger belonged to the world. Phil belonged to New York.
I hope Phil understands that all the pink shirts, hats, visors and pants being worn in what is predicted to be a huge gallery following him isn’t just New York having a bad clothes day. It will be a transference of energy through him to Amy telling them both that New York and the world for that matter is praying for her and to a lesser degree him as well to help see them through what could be difficult days to come.
Some have offered in print that it would be great if Phil could win this week. I have to believe that Phil would gladly give up all wins past and future if Amy could win her battle with cancer.
Bartender, take the rest of the day off. I’m just not in the mood if you know what I mean.
See you on the first tee,
Jack
Friday, May 15, 2009
What we missed at The Players...
Sorry for the delay this week good people. The final round of the Players Championship left me comatose. Henrik Stenson put the pedal to the medal and the rest of the field emulated a bad NASCAR driver and turned right and piled up on the wall.
I will, however, give NBC immense credit for not bowing to temptation and putting Tiger Woods on the screen every time. It’s just a shame that they didn’t have anything better to replace him.
Sunday’s viewing reminded me of golf last year post—U.S. Open. We got to see some interesting players and learn more about them than we would if Tiger had been able to keep his ball on planet Earth.
There were a couple of things that we missed over the weekend that could have been interesting to see.
On Saturday, the cameras could have caught the utter disgust Masters champion Angel Cabrera showed towards playing partner Kevin Na. It seems Cabrera took exception towards Na’s pace of play. Granted, you might not want Na as a pace car, but he’s certainly gets the ball in the air quicker than noted lava flows Ben Crane and Sean O’Hair.
Reports from someone who was there said the atmosphere turned nasty. Although not able to convey his message in English, Cabrera got his point across via body language. At times it appeared that the pair might come to blows. Unless Na is proficient in Korean martial arts disciplines, the odds favor the Argentinean in less than one round.
Gee, you don’t think that the fact that Cabrera was en route to a not so smooth 77 had any bearing on his demeanor do you? The fact is, as so often happens on the PGA Tour, there was no where to go. They were in place on the course and no PGA Tour official warned them as they did Ian Poulter and Brian Davis on Sunday.
Reports from colleagues who cover the South American Tour as well as the European Tour have, “he has a great game when he’s putting good,” as the response to the question, “what type of guy is Angel Cabrera?” Reading between the lines, one can assume this is what Sergio Garcia will be like when (or if) he grows up.
Speaking of pace of play, I’ve heard some complaints about Aaron Baddely’s tour of TPC Sawgrass on Sunday. Many were shocked that it took him three hours and five minutes to shoot a 66 while playing alone.
First of all, he was playing with a marker who attested his score on every hole. Secondly, and this is perhaps the most telling reason, it’s an unspoken response to an incident that occurred a few years ago.
Mark Calcavecchia and a fellow player were to lead off the final round. They decided to see how fast they could complete their round. They walked off the 18th green one hour and 20 minutes after striking their first tee shot and almost four hours ahead of the second group, which in all fairness was a threesome.
According to reports, in an outburst of incredible hypocrisy, they were fined by the PGA Tour for making a farce out of tournament play. The result is why we now have an unwritten rule concerning the minimum amount of time to be taken to complete a round of golf under these circumstances.
*****
Sometimes it’s nice to be old enough to have flashbacks. A great occurred yesterday when I read that Christy O’Connor was selected by the veterans committee for induction into the World Golf Hall of Fame. The flashback didn’t include any of his 24 European Tour victories or his 10 Ryder Cup appearances, including a winner in 1957.
The flashback was to a Monday in June 22-years ago. It was the week of the Irish Open at Portmarnock Golf Club just outside of Dublin. In those days, the driving range wasn’t open on Monday of a tournament week for some reason, but there at the far end of the range was Christy O’Connor hitting balls while his caddie shagged them for him. O’Connor, at the age of 64, had been given a sponsors invitation to play. Surprisingly to everyone but himself, he went on to make a serious run at making the cut. But his quest was denied by the raging winds from the Irish Sea.
A month earlier, I had read an article in which Sam Snead was quoted as saying that Christy O’Connor may have been the best ball striker ever hit a golf ball. I ambled over to where Christy was hitting balls and waited for an opportunity to introduce myself. When I did, I quickly mentioned the Snead quote and asked him what he thought constituted a great ball striker.
He stopped for a second and said, “He’s a man who can control his golf ball in any conditions.” When pressed farther, he added as he looked at his clubs, “you have to be able to hit every one of those 140-yards.” I asked if he could do it. He looked at me and looked at his clubs and waved his caddie in and had him walk 140 paces out on the range.
He started at the driver and worked his way down through the bag. The caddie never moved more than three paces. I thought he might have a problem hitting his wedges that far, but he deftly hit the equator of the ball with the leading edge of the blade and it went 140-yards.
As he reached for his putter and raked a ball into address position, he looked and said, “What do you think, Jack?” I quickly replied, “Christy, its good, pick it up.”
We headed to the bar in the clubhouse where we were joined by Christy’s pal, Harry Bradshaw, the former Ryder Cupper and Pro Emeritus and they regaled me and those around us with wonderful tales about golf before we knew which end of the club was which. It was a day I never want to forget. That day, Christy entered my Hall of Fame and I’m happy the rest of the world finally got the message.
Bartender, a tall glass of gin, one ice cube and a tonic on the side, no lemon or lime (“If I wanted a fruit salad, I’d have asked for one,” says C. O’Connor) for the man known as “Himself”, World Golf Hall of Famer Christy O’Connor. Also a glass of water to wash down the mood elevator of your choice for Señor Cabrera. Me? Just a chair at Mr. O’Connor’s table. I know he has more stories to tell and I don’t want to miss one.
See you on the first tee,
Jack
I will, however, give NBC immense credit for not bowing to temptation and putting Tiger Woods on the screen every time. It’s just a shame that they didn’t have anything better to replace him.
Sunday’s viewing reminded me of golf last year post—U.S. Open. We got to see some interesting players and learn more about them than we would if Tiger had been able to keep his ball on planet Earth.
There were a couple of things that we missed over the weekend that could have been interesting to see.
On Saturday, the cameras could have caught the utter disgust Masters champion Angel Cabrera showed towards playing partner Kevin Na. It seems Cabrera took exception towards Na’s pace of play. Granted, you might not want Na as a pace car, but he’s certainly gets the ball in the air quicker than noted lava flows Ben Crane and Sean O’Hair.
Reports from someone who was there said the atmosphere turned nasty. Although not able to convey his message in English, Cabrera got his point across via body language. At times it appeared that the pair might come to blows. Unless Na is proficient in Korean martial arts disciplines, the odds favor the Argentinean in less than one round.
Gee, you don’t think that the fact that Cabrera was en route to a not so smooth 77 had any bearing on his demeanor do you? The fact is, as so often happens on the PGA Tour, there was no where to go. They were in place on the course and no PGA Tour official warned them as they did Ian Poulter and Brian Davis on Sunday.
Reports from colleagues who cover the South American Tour as well as the European Tour have, “he has a great game when he’s putting good,” as the response to the question, “what type of guy is Angel Cabrera?” Reading between the lines, one can assume this is what Sergio Garcia will be like when (or if) he grows up.
Speaking of pace of play, I’ve heard some complaints about Aaron Baddely’s tour of TPC Sawgrass on Sunday. Many were shocked that it took him three hours and five minutes to shoot a 66 while playing alone.
First of all, he was playing with a marker who attested his score on every hole. Secondly, and this is perhaps the most telling reason, it’s an unspoken response to an incident that occurred a few years ago.
Mark Calcavecchia and a fellow player were to lead off the final round. They decided to see how fast they could complete their round. They walked off the 18th green one hour and 20 minutes after striking their first tee shot and almost four hours ahead of the second group, which in all fairness was a threesome.
According to reports, in an outburst of incredible hypocrisy, they were fined by the PGA Tour for making a farce out of tournament play. The result is why we now have an unwritten rule concerning the minimum amount of time to be taken to complete a round of golf under these circumstances.
*****
Sometimes it’s nice to be old enough to have flashbacks. A great occurred yesterday when I read that Christy O’Connor was selected by the veterans committee for induction into the World Golf Hall of Fame. The flashback didn’t include any of his 24 European Tour victories or his 10 Ryder Cup appearances, including a winner in 1957.
The flashback was to a Monday in June 22-years ago. It was the week of the Irish Open at Portmarnock Golf Club just outside of Dublin. In those days, the driving range wasn’t open on Monday of a tournament week for some reason, but there at the far end of the range was Christy O’Connor hitting balls while his caddie shagged them for him. O’Connor, at the age of 64, had been given a sponsors invitation to play. Surprisingly to everyone but himself, he went on to make a serious run at making the cut. But his quest was denied by the raging winds from the Irish Sea.
A month earlier, I had read an article in which Sam Snead was quoted as saying that Christy O’Connor may have been the best ball striker ever hit a golf ball. I ambled over to where Christy was hitting balls and waited for an opportunity to introduce myself. When I did, I quickly mentioned the Snead quote and asked him what he thought constituted a great ball striker.
He stopped for a second and said, “He’s a man who can control his golf ball in any conditions.” When pressed farther, he added as he looked at his clubs, “you have to be able to hit every one of those 140-yards.” I asked if he could do it. He looked at me and looked at his clubs and waved his caddie in and had him walk 140 paces out on the range.
He started at the driver and worked his way down through the bag. The caddie never moved more than three paces. I thought he might have a problem hitting his wedges that far, but he deftly hit the equator of the ball with the leading edge of the blade and it went 140-yards.
As he reached for his putter and raked a ball into address position, he looked and said, “What do you think, Jack?” I quickly replied, “Christy, its good, pick it up.”
We headed to the bar in the clubhouse where we were joined by Christy’s pal, Harry Bradshaw, the former Ryder Cupper and Pro Emeritus and they regaled me and those around us with wonderful tales about golf before we knew which end of the club was which. It was a day I never want to forget. That day, Christy entered my Hall of Fame and I’m happy the rest of the world finally got the message.
Bartender, a tall glass of gin, one ice cube and a tonic on the side, no lemon or lime (“If I wanted a fruit salad, I’d have asked for one,” says C. O’Connor) for the man known as “Himself”, World Golf Hall of Famer Christy O’Connor. Also a glass of water to wash down the mood elevator of your choice for Señor Cabrera. Me? Just a chair at Mr. O’Connor’s table. I know he has more stories to tell and I don’t want to miss one.
See you on the first tee,
Jack
Monday, May 4, 2009
Kelly wins, The Players Championship looms, Daly makes cut, and Quail Hollow
Jerry Kelly wins in New Orleans. The Players Championship is on the horizon and John Daly makes the cut in the Spanish Open. Let’s not forget that the people who run the Quail Hollow Championship (nee Wachovia Championship) get it right.
Kelly’s win at the Zurich Championship may not have been one for the ages, but you can score one for the good guys. Kelly had been on a seven year hiatus from the winner’s circle before winning last week. He had become what is known as a “field filler.” That’s the type of player who may not have the chance of a snowball in hell of winning, but in order to have a full field for the tournament, you hope he enters. His biggest plus for the tournament sponsor has always been that he gives good Pro Am. You never have a bad time in Jerry Kelly’s company and that’s a very big deal in the eyes of tournament sponsors.
In addition, he’s also immensely popular with his fellow pros and that can’t be said about everyone on any professional Tour. In fact that can’t be said about more pros than you might think.
The only downside of Kelly’s victory was that it pointed out Charles Howell’s lack of ability to finish the job. Howell should have won. He’s technically the better player, but Kelly has the heart of a hockey player (which he was in college) and he never stops grinding. You have to believe that if he had to do it, he could miss hitting all 18 greens in regulation and still post a sub par round.
**********************************
It’s a wonderful thing that the PGA Tour has stopped trying to force feed the media and the public that the Players Championship is really the fifth major. Yes, they draw a tremendous field. Yes, the purse is fantastic. Yes, they’re trying to build tradition by holding the championship at the same venue. That might work, but not in our lifetime and that includes the infant in your lap to whom, as a dutiful, parent you’re reading this wonderful piece of golf writing. It just won’t work.
The Stadium Course is like an aging starlet. While it all may look great, the truth is, nothing is real. The land was a swamp before Pete Dye saw something no other human being could have seen and turned it into a quirky, unconventional golf course.
The Players Championship is what it is. It’s a wonderful tournament with three diverse, if not weird finishing holes (there’s really no flow or rhyme or reason why they’re there). Having written that, I fall in line with those who want a three-hole playoff in case of a tie at the top on Sunday. In that context these holes would work.
**********************************
John Daly, Loudmouth pants and all, made the cut in the Spanish Open. Could this be the start of a comeback for Daly? It could be only if he gets through the next month without incident. Never forget that he’ll always be a train wreck in progress. He’s the next Miller Lite away from disaster and he’s two words (I do) from starting a marriage destined to be his fifth appearance in divorce court.
Much has been said about JD dropping 40-plus pounds after having the Lap Band procedure. However, according to a source who should know, there was no procedure. If this is correct, that’s the best news ever. It shows that somewhere along the road, Daly has acquired a modicum of self control. Who cares what the reason is. The fact he’s done it is a big step towards regaining his life.
**********************************
May all tournament sponsors take note of the strategy employed by the tournament committee of the Quail Hollow Championship. Maybe it was the fact that until this year the event was known as the Wachovia Championship, but the committee was looking at the added pressure on the discretionary dollar.
They felt that the public would rather cheer for golfers making birdies than golfers sweating out pars. Thus, they reduced the rough from four to two inches giving players a chance to reach greens from the cabbage. In turn, however, they did quicken the pace of the greens and make the putting surfaces firmer, so a birdie still had to be earned but was attainable.
Kudos to a tournament committee that remembered that to the spectators, a golf tournament is still entertainment. By the way, combining the greens of this year and the rough of years past and there sits a U.S. Open course begging to be played. USGA, please take notice.
Bartender, back up an ice cold beer with a shot of brandy (a Cheese Head state favorite spirit) for Mr. Kelly. Please take a can of Slim Fast from the cooler for Mr. Daly. Add a magnum of champagne for the Quail Hollow Championship tournament committee. Also, if you could, reach back into your earlier hippie days and grab a tab of acid for Mr. Dye and maybe he can envision another version of the Stadium Course. Me? Make that two cans of Slim Fast.
See you on the first tee,
Jack
Kelly’s win at the Zurich Championship may not have been one for the ages, but you can score one for the good guys. Kelly had been on a seven year hiatus from the winner’s circle before winning last week. He had become what is known as a “field filler.” That’s the type of player who may not have the chance of a snowball in hell of winning, but in order to have a full field for the tournament, you hope he enters. His biggest plus for the tournament sponsor has always been that he gives good Pro Am. You never have a bad time in Jerry Kelly’s company and that’s a very big deal in the eyes of tournament sponsors.
In addition, he’s also immensely popular with his fellow pros and that can’t be said about everyone on any professional Tour. In fact that can’t be said about more pros than you might think.
The only downside of Kelly’s victory was that it pointed out Charles Howell’s lack of ability to finish the job. Howell should have won. He’s technically the better player, but Kelly has the heart of a hockey player (which he was in college) and he never stops grinding. You have to believe that if he had to do it, he could miss hitting all 18 greens in regulation and still post a sub par round.
**********************************
It’s a wonderful thing that the PGA Tour has stopped trying to force feed the media and the public that the Players Championship is really the fifth major. Yes, they draw a tremendous field. Yes, the purse is fantastic. Yes, they’re trying to build tradition by holding the championship at the same venue. That might work, but not in our lifetime and that includes the infant in your lap to whom, as a dutiful, parent you’re reading this wonderful piece of golf writing. It just won’t work.
The Stadium Course is like an aging starlet. While it all may look great, the truth is, nothing is real. The land was a swamp before Pete Dye saw something no other human being could have seen and turned it into a quirky, unconventional golf course.
The Players Championship is what it is. It’s a wonderful tournament with three diverse, if not weird finishing holes (there’s really no flow or rhyme or reason why they’re there). Having written that, I fall in line with those who want a three-hole playoff in case of a tie at the top on Sunday. In that context these holes would work.
**********************************
John Daly, Loudmouth pants and all, made the cut in the Spanish Open. Could this be the start of a comeback for Daly? It could be only if he gets through the next month without incident. Never forget that he’ll always be a train wreck in progress. He’s the next Miller Lite away from disaster and he’s two words (I do) from starting a marriage destined to be his fifth appearance in divorce court.
Much has been said about JD dropping 40-plus pounds after having the Lap Band procedure. However, according to a source who should know, there was no procedure. If this is correct, that’s the best news ever. It shows that somewhere along the road, Daly has acquired a modicum of self control. Who cares what the reason is. The fact he’s done it is a big step towards regaining his life.
**********************************
May all tournament sponsors take note of the strategy employed by the tournament committee of the Quail Hollow Championship. Maybe it was the fact that until this year the event was known as the Wachovia Championship, but the committee was looking at the added pressure on the discretionary dollar.
They felt that the public would rather cheer for golfers making birdies than golfers sweating out pars. Thus, they reduced the rough from four to two inches giving players a chance to reach greens from the cabbage. In turn, however, they did quicken the pace of the greens and make the putting surfaces firmer, so a birdie still had to be earned but was attainable.
Kudos to a tournament committee that remembered that to the spectators, a golf tournament is still entertainment. By the way, combining the greens of this year and the rough of years past and there sits a U.S. Open course begging to be played. USGA, please take notice.
Bartender, back up an ice cold beer with a shot of brandy (a Cheese Head state favorite spirit) for Mr. Kelly. Please take a can of Slim Fast from the cooler for Mr. Daly. Add a magnum of champagne for the Quail Hollow Championship tournament committee. Also, if you could, reach back into your earlier hippie days and grab a tab of acid for Mr. Dye and maybe he can envision another version of the Stadium Course. Me? Make that two cans of Slim Fast.
See you on the first tee,
Jack
Friday, April 24, 2009
McIlroy says No Thanks to PGA Tour
When a 19-year old young man with a world of game decides he’s going to turn professional, he’s confronted with a myriad of choices. The decisions he’s forced to make could quite possibly be responsible for the success or failure thereof that will follow. Is this a fair burden for a teenager to bear? Probably not. Hey kid, welcome to the real world of professional golf.
In the past week, the PGA Tour offered a special membership to Northern Ireland’s Rory McIlroy. To the surprise of many, he respectfully declined the offer. In this corner, the belief is that he showed wisdom and maturity beyond his years. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he had the counsel of Tubby Chandler, golf’s super agent in the European theater.
Even though a player such as Mark O’Meara, a close friend of Tiger Woods, has said that McIlroy’s development is ahead of Woods at that age, Rory is staying home. At this stage of his career, it’s a wise move. He should get used to the professional routine on more familiar turf. There is a lot to learn. He has to learn how to travel and what is an effective practice routine as opposed to what is a realistic one. He’s much better off doing this near his support group than trying to get along alone some 4-5,000 miles away from home.
A decade ago, a 19-year old was faced with similar decisions and he choice was to be a world player. On the surface, it appears that Sergio Garcia made the right decision. He’s won seven times on the PGA Tour and eight times on the European Tour with his resume filled in with four more wins on other tours. He’s amassed a fortune in excess of $30 million. Yet, there are those and at times Sergio is among them that feel he has underachieved in some areas.
Garcia’s biggest win was the 2008 Players Championship in a playoff with Paul Goydos. The first thing he said in his acceptance speech was to thank Woods for not being there. Following a much less than stellar Masters this year, Sergio proceeded to blame the course and the setup for his lackluster play. Someone in his entourage wrote an apology that Sergio delivered and if you think this apology to Augusta was heartfelt, then when was the last time you heard Garcia use the word “iconic” when describing a golf course—or an icon for that matter?
I know it’s unfair, but in this day a professional golfer’s resume is judged by the number of majors won and not the body of work.
There is a school of thought that Garcia’s problems stem from the fact that he tried to do too much too early. This led him away from the progression of experience that includes building a mental toughness that deals effectively with adversity. His physical game has developed tremendously. His mental game…maybe not so much. Unfortunately, it’s the latter that can be the difference between winning and losing a major. Just ask Kenny Perry.
This brings us back to the shaggy, curly-haired Irish kid. McIlroy will play in the WGC events and maybe a selected few events around the three majors held in the U.S., but he will be a European Tour member first and foremost until his physical and mental development reaches the point where he can handle it comfortably. Rest assured that he’ll be here and that he’ll be a great performer when he does. It just won’t be right now.
Bartender, I’d love to buy a pint for Mr. McIlroy, but I don’t want to go to jail either, so please pour him a rock shandy (an Irish concoction of lemonade and orange soda). Also, the usual for Senor Garcia, a small wheel of Spanish cheese and a bottle of Spanish red whine.
See you on the first tee,
Jack
In the past week, the PGA Tour offered a special membership to Northern Ireland’s Rory McIlroy. To the surprise of many, he respectfully declined the offer. In this corner, the belief is that he showed wisdom and maturity beyond his years. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he had the counsel of Tubby Chandler, golf’s super agent in the European theater.
Even though a player such as Mark O’Meara, a close friend of Tiger Woods, has said that McIlroy’s development is ahead of Woods at that age, Rory is staying home. At this stage of his career, it’s a wise move. He should get used to the professional routine on more familiar turf. There is a lot to learn. He has to learn how to travel and what is an effective practice routine as opposed to what is a realistic one. He’s much better off doing this near his support group than trying to get along alone some 4-5,000 miles away from home.
A decade ago, a 19-year old was faced with similar decisions and he choice was to be a world player. On the surface, it appears that Sergio Garcia made the right decision. He’s won seven times on the PGA Tour and eight times on the European Tour with his resume filled in with four more wins on other tours. He’s amassed a fortune in excess of $30 million. Yet, there are those and at times Sergio is among them that feel he has underachieved in some areas.
Garcia’s biggest win was the 2008 Players Championship in a playoff with Paul Goydos. The first thing he said in his acceptance speech was to thank Woods for not being there. Following a much less than stellar Masters this year, Sergio proceeded to blame the course and the setup for his lackluster play. Someone in his entourage wrote an apology that Sergio delivered and if you think this apology to Augusta was heartfelt, then when was the last time you heard Garcia use the word “iconic” when describing a golf course—or an icon for that matter?
I know it’s unfair, but in this day a professional golfer’s resume is judged by the number of majors won and not the body of work.
There is a school of thought that Garcia’s problems stem from the fact that he tried to do too much too early. This led him away from the progression of experience that includes building a mental toughness that deals effectively with adversity. His physical game has developed tremendously. His mental game…maybe not so much. Unfortunately, it’s the latter that can be the difference between winning and losing a major. Just ask Kenny Perry.
This brings us back to the shaggy, curly-haired Irish kid. McIlroy will play in the WGC events and maybe a selected few events around the three majors held in the U.S., but he will be a European Tour member first and foremost until his physical and mental development reaches the point where he can handle it comfortably. Rest assured that he’ll be here and that he’ll be a great performer when he does. It just won’t be right now.
Bartender, I’d love to buy a pint for Mr. McIlroy, but I don’t want to go to jail either, so please pour him a rock shandy (an Irish concoction of lemonade and orange soda). Also, the usual for Senor Garcia, a small wheel of Spanish cheese and a bottle of Spanish red whine.
See you on the first tee,
Jack
Monday, April 13, 2009
Masters brings intimacy between golfers and gallery
I guess it began two years ago. I actually started to lose interest in the Masters. They say it’s a tradition like any other although I never quite figured out the meaning of that phrase—until last Friday.
In the coverage of the final holes of Gary Player and Fuzzy Zoeller in the Masters, it finally hit me. The answer came from both Zoeller and Player and the galleries. There was an intimacy between the golfers and the people on the other side of the ropes that you don’t find in any other tournament.
I recalled walking the course with another writer during my first trip to the Masters in 1983. As we looked at the massive early week galleries and my friend pointed out that, if we came back the next day, the next year, or the next decade that the same people will be sitting in the same place. It was just what people did.
You’d have to think that after 52 years in Player’s case, or 31 in Zoeller’s case that they would recognize this as well. Because these two players in particular have never had an aversion to chatting with the galleries anywhere that the recognition factor would only heighten. No, these people weren’t just a collective gallery, they were friends of longstanding.
By the way, other players who normally wouldn’t say mud on a golf course even if they had a mouth full tend to be a bit more open at the Masters. I can tell you that you won’t find this two-way relationship at the other three majors. It’s easy to dismiss this by thinking that the reason is the Masters is played at the same course every year. That might be a contributing factor, but it’s certainly not the only one.
There really is an aura at Augusta National that breeds an intimacy between golf, golfers and fans that hasn’t been found anywhere else and most likely never will although it seemed that the tournament committee tried to quell it for the past two years by turning the course into a survival program.
This year, they gave the golfers, the galleries and the people glued to their TVs at home, the real Masters back. All they had to do was set up the course that was fair and they did. Of course, it didn’t hurt that the Saturday night rain softened the greens. Everyone caught a break on Sunday when Tiger and Phil were paired together and both brought their “A” games. Another ingredient was that both were so far back, they had to fire at every pin. You can do that on a fair setup at Augusta National.
Yes, this Masters brought back memories of some of the best of all time and that was before Angel Cabrera two-putted for par on the second playoff hole. For me, the memories that will last forever occurred on Friday afternoon. The South African golfers who had already finished came back to the 18th green to greet Player for one last time. Trust me; you wouldn’t see this anywhere else.
Another was the greeting Fuzzy got at the 18th hole. From tee to green it was a steady wave of applause and cheering. By the time he and his daughter Gretchen who caddied for her father reached the green, both were unsuccessfully fighting back tears. As the TV camera panned the gallery it showed that many were having the same problem.
It’s that shared emotion found only at the Masters that makes it a tradition unlike any other.
Bartender, please have a single malt scotch delivered to Mr. Player and vodka and tonic delivered to Mr. Zoeller. They’ll both be on the balcony outside the champions locker room where they can now be found during the weekend of the first full week in April resting comfortably while their friends on both sides of the ropes will be celebrating the tournament that they helped build in the minds and hearts of golfers everywhere.
See you on the first tee.
Jack
In the coverage of the final holes of Gary Player and Fuzzy Zoeller in the Masters, it finally hit me. The answer came from both Zoeller and Player and the galleries. There was an intimacy between the golfers and the people on the other side of the ropes that you don’t find in any other tournament.
I recalled walking the course with another writer during my first trip to the Masters in 1983. As we looked at the massive early week galleries and my friend pointed out that, if we came back the next day, the next year, or the next decade that the same people will be sitting in the same place. It was just what people did.
You’d have to think that after 52 years in Player’s case, or 31 in Zoeller’s case that they would recognize this as well. Because these two players in particular have never had an aversion to chatting with the galleries anywhere that the recognition factor would only heighten. No, these people weren’t just a collective gallery, they were friends of longstanding.
By the way, other players who normally wouldn’t say mud on a golf course even if they had a mouth full tend to be a bit more open at the Masters. I can tell you that you won’t find this two-way relationship at the other three majors. It’s easy to dismiss this by thinking that the reason is the Masters is played at the same course every year. That might be a contributing factor, but it’s certainly not the only one.
There really is an aura at Augusta National that breeds an intimacy between golf, golfers and fans that hasn’t been found anywhere else and most likely never will although it seemed that the tournament committee tried to quell it for the past two years by turning the course into a survival program.
This year, they gave the golfers, the galleries and the people glued to their TVs at home, the real Masters back. All they had to do was set up the course that was fair and they did. Of course, it didn’t hurt that the Saturday night rain softened the greens. Everyone caught a break on Sunday when Tiger and Phil were paired together and both brought their “A” games. Another ingredient was that both were so far back, they had to fire at every pin. You can do that on a fair setup at Augusta National.
Yes, this Masters brought back memories of some of the best of all time and that was before Angel Cabrera two-putted for par on the second playoff hole. For me, the memories that will last forever occurred on Friday afternoon. The South African golfers who had already finished came back to the 18th green to greet Player for one last time. Trust me; you wouldn’t see this anywhere else.
Another was the greeting Fuzzy got at the 18th hole. From tee to green it was a steady wave of applause and cheering. By the time he and his daughter Gretchen who caddied for her father reached the green, both were unsuccessfully fighting back tears. As the TV camera panned the gallery it showed that many were having the same problem.
It’s that shared emotion found only at the Masters that makes it a tradition unlike any other.
Bartender, please have a single malt scotch delivered to Mr. Player and vodka and tonic delivered to Mr. Zoeller. They’ll both be on the balcony outside the champions locker room where they can now be found during the weekend of the first full week in April resting comfortably while their friends on both sides of the ropes will be celebrating the tournament that they helped build in the minds and hearts of golfers everywhere.
See you on the first tee.
Jack
Friday, April 3, 2009
Not even Tiger is bigger than the game...
I’ve got to admit it. I am somewhat an Internet junkie. Sports (golf in particular) sites are of special interest. I’m particularly fond of Golf.com, although after this morning, not so much.
While I’m not in the habit of writing critiques of other writer’s work, this morning a column typed by Michael Walker, Jr. Senior Editor of Golf Magazine caused me to burp uncomfortably. Mr. Walker proudly proclaimed that Tiger Woods is bigger than the game of golf.
I take exception to that statement and not in a casual way. This is not a new theory by the way. There are a lot of pundits who echo Mr. Walker’s feelings and they all seem to have a definite commonality. They share one very definite trait. None of them have as much as one gray hair. We can also add that none of them EVER saw Jack Nicklaus in his prime. By the way, the writers of Jack’s era never and I mean never would dare write that the Golden Bear was bigger than the game of golf. Writers of that time certainly had their faults, but shortsightedness wasn’t one of them.
Everyone gushes over the TV ratings when Tiger plays. The TV networks go so far overboard that if Tiger is playing on the weekend, in contention or not, their focus is on him. Forget the leaders. God forbid they should cover the story of the tournament. I might also add that the only place where a human could possibly have a lower profile than the Witness Protection Program is to be the third member of the threesome in the final group on Sunday with Tiger near the top.
This is not to say that Tiger isn’t a great golfer. The numbers confirm his status. However, and I can’t say this enough, he’s not the greatest of all time—yet. He may well become the greatest of all time if his health holds up. After numerous knee injuries, that’s not a guarantee. It’s a probability, but certainly not a guarantee. Having said that, he will NEVER be bigger than the game. No one ever has and no one ever will.
There have been stars before Tiger who’s reputation in the game was at least the equal of Tiger during their era. Sam Snead and Byron Nelson were two of the greatest players of all time, yet the dominant player of their era was Ben Hogan. I’m not going to go off on a tangent about what Hogan could have done had he not been in a near fatal car crash. The fact is, he was in an accident and that fact can’t be changed. When you think about it, that fact enhances Hogan’s lore. His accomplishments post-crash speak volumes about his dominance.
Speaking of dominance, Young Tom Morris dominated the British Open to the point where other players wouldn’t play if he was entered. Was he bigger than the game? No, and his father was credited with the reinvention of the game and he wasn’t bigger than the game either.
People cite TV ratings as the true measuring stick. Truth is, if it wasn’t for the charisma of Arnold Palmer golf on TV may have been delayed for years.
As a final point, if Tiger is in fact bigger than the game, why haven’t people flocked to golf courses to try the game he’s mastered? They haven’t, even in better financial times, they stayed away. Folks, Tiger is a great player, but bigger than the game? It hasn’t happen yet and it never will.
Bartender, please pour a shot of Sodium Pentothal for Mr. Walker and a goblet of nectar of the gods for Mr. Woods and add a dose of humility as well. He doesn’t need it, but an ounce of prevention can keep him from believing some of the drivel being written about him.
See you on the first tee.
Jack
While I’m not in the habit of writing critiques of other writer’s work, this morning a column typed by Michael Walker, Jr. Senior Editor of Golf Magazine caused me to burp uncomfortably. Mr. Walker proudly proclaimed that Tiger Woods is bigger than the game of golf.
I take exception to that statement and not in a casual way. This is not a new theory by the way. There are a lot of pundits who echo Mr. Walker’s feelings and they all seem to have a definite commonality. They share one very definite trait. None of them have as much as one gray hair. We can also add that none of them EVER saw Jack Nicklaus in his prime. By the way, the writers of Jack’s era never and I mean never would dare write that the Golden Bear was bigger than the game of golf. Writers of that time certainly had their faults, but shortsightedness wasn’t one of them.
Everyone gushes over the TV ratings when Tiger plays. The TV networks go so far overboard that if Tiger is playing on the weekend, in contention or not, their focus is on him. Forget the leaders. God forbid they should cover the story of the tournament. I might also add that the only place where a human could possibly have a lower profile than the Witness Protection Program is to be the third member of the threesome in the final group on Sunday with Tiger near the top.
This is not to say that Tiger isn’t a great golfer. The numbers confirm his status. However, and I can’t say this enough, he’s not the greatest of all time—yet. He may well become the greatest of all time if his health holds up. After numerous knee injuries, that’s not a guarantee. It’s a probability, but certainly not a guarantee. Having said that, he will NEVER be bigger than the game. No one ever has and no one ever will.
There have been stars before Tiger who’s reputation in the game was at least the equal of Tiger during their era. Sam Snead and Byron Nelson were two of the greatest players of all time, yet the dominant player of their era was Ben Hogan. I’m not going to go off on a tangent about what Hogan could have done had he not been in a near fatal car crash. The fact is, he was in an accident and that fact can’t be changed. When you think about it, that fact enhances Hogan’s lore. His accomplishments post-crash speak volumes about his dominance.
Speaking of dominance, Young Tom Morris dominated the British Open to the point where other players wouldn’t play if he was entered. Was he bigger than the game? No, and his father was credited with the reinvention of the game and he wasn’t bigger than the game either.
People cite TV ratings as the true measuring stick. Truth is, if it wasn’t for the charisma of Arnold Palmer golf on TV may have been delayed for years.
As a final point, if Tiger is in fact bigger than the game, why haven’t people flocked to golf courses to try the game he’s mastered? They haven’t, even in better financial times, they stayed away. Folks, Tiger is a great player, but bigger than the game? It hasn’t happen yet and it never will.
Bartender, please pour a shot of Sodium Pentothal for Mr. Walker and a goblet of nectar of the gods for Mr. Woods and add a dose of humility as well. He doesn’t need it, but an ounce of prevention can keep him from believing some of the drivel being written about him.
See you on the first tee.
Jack
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
