In Commissioner Tim’s FedEx Cup dream the media world is sitting at his feet listening carefully as he describes how golf’s version of the “Final Four” exploded on to a hundred million TV screens, and how each successive week’s tournament was bigger than the week before. Then, with the fate of all mankind at stake, and a TV audience bigger than the Super Bowl, Tiger came from behind to win the $10,000,000 by one FedEx point with a double-eagle on the final hole.
Now, cut to a beautiful sunset with Tiger and Phil, tears of joy running down their faces, carrying Commissioner Tim on their shoulders and whispering in his ear, “Commissioner Tim thank you for saving golf and America.”
Lastly, with his blackberry filled with offers by the networks to drop the Super Bowl just so they would have the opportunity to air next year’s FedEx Cup, the Commissioner pulls a FedEx Championship tee-shirt over his head that reads “I told You So.”
It could happen, or then again Tiger could skip the first FedEx Cup Tournament.
I’m sure that the golf chairman of some of the regular season tournaments that Tiger skipped in 2007 are tempted to send Commissioner Tim an email saying, “How does it feel?” And, who could blame them?
Like it or not, Commissioner Tim, Tiger is in charge and you’re not. He, and he alone will decide when and where he will play, FedEx Cup or not. He decides which tournament will have TV ratings and which ones will not. He decides who will make their title sponsor happy and who will not. It’s Tiger’s Tour, so get used to it.
Unlike Commissioner Tim, Tiger didn’t ask for the power he has amassed; he won it fair and square, and now that he has it, perhaps only father time will ever take it away. For the most part, Tiger understands his power and has done a reasonable good job in being as fair as possible. However, he can’t play in every tournament even though we wanted him to.
In the reality show called “Tiger’s World” I suspect there is strange karma between Commissioner Tim and Tiger as they gaze at each other across the room. He knows that Tiger owns him and Tiger knows that he knows. In his mind, he doesn’t have to wash Tiger’s car, but he wants to keep his options open. Could Tiger take Commissioner Tim’s job? Probably not, but he could most likely get him fired if he was so inclined. But, Commissioner Tim shouldn’t worry about Tiger taking his job, what he should worry about is Tiger starting his own Tour. Greg Norman tried it a few years back, and gave birth to the World Championship Tournament idea, and Tiger’s drawing power is ten times Norman’s. But then again, Tiger already owns the PGA, so Commissioner Tim listens to what the boss is saying.
For example, for years Tiger, Phil and some of the other big guns have been complaining that the season is too long. However, what Commissioner Tim heard was that the end of the season didn’t have big enough purses. Not exactly the same thing is it?
Now, I don’t think that Tiger was trying to make a point by skipping the first FedEx Cup Tournament, but he did send a message, didn’t he?
Listen to what Kenny Perry had to say about his friend Tiger Woods. "It's pretty cool when a guy thinks he can spot us a week and still win the deal. I think he's great for the game. He could probably skip the first two tournaments and he'll win the last two. You never put anything past him."
Then Perry said what Commissioner Tim really fears. "As goal-oriented as that guy is, I know he wants (to win) that first one. Then, after that, we probably won't see him playing in any more of them."
For Commissioner Tim’s sake, I hope Kenny Perry is wrong, but just in case I’d at least think about washing Tiger’s car and consider making FedEx pay in advance next year.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Golf Is Truly An International Game
Americans are famous for their lack of knowledge about the rest of the world. It’s one of many reasons the people from across both ponds think less of us than we think they should. However, golf may be somewhat of an exception. What golfer hasn’t heard of Ernie Els, Vijay Singh, Sergio Garcia or any one of a dozen other international players… and there is a good reason for that phenomenon. This week’s ranking of the top fifty golfers in the world places only sixteen Americans in that group. Of course, three of those sixteen are the first three, Tiger Woods, Jim Furyk and Phil Mickelson, and five of those sixteen are in the top twenties.
According to the rankings the number two power in the world is Australia with a total of nine players, two of which are in the top ten and three in the top twenty. Third is South Africa with six players, one top ten and four top twenties. The inventors of the great game, the Scots/ English, rank fourth with five players (one Scotsman and four English), no top tens and only two top twenties, followed by the Swedes with four players with one in the top ten.
If you’ve been watching the majors you know that both Argentina and Spain have two players each. Likewise, our Canadian friends up north have two players, and unlike the ladies’ Tour, which is dominated by Koreans, the men’s Tour only has one.
It’s a bit of a surprise, because they are such rabid golfers, but the Irish have only one player in the top fifty; Padraig Harrington is the number six ranked player in the world, which is exactly the same number for the country that claims the number seven player in the world, Vijay Singh from Fiji.
Certainly golf doesn’t come close to soccer in the number of players participating around the world, and I guess it really doesn’t challenge soccer in the number of countries participating either, but it makes you proud to know that the top ten players in golf represent seven different countries and that they have 850,000,000 frequent flyer miles collectively.
World Rankings
1 Tiger Woods
2 Jim Furyk
3 Phil Mickelson
4 Ernie Els
5 Adam Scott
6 Padraig Harrington
7 Vijay Singh
8 Sergio Garcia
9 Geoff Ogilvy
11 Luke Donald
12 Choi Kyung-Ju
13 Rory Sabbatini
14 Steve Stricker
15 Justin Rose
16 Zach Johnson
17 Retief Goosen
18 Trevor Immelman
19 Angel Cabrera
20 Paul Casey
21 Niclas Fasth
22 Stewart Cink
23 Scott Verplank
24 David Toms
25 Stuart Appleby
26 Nick O'Hern
27 Andres Romero
28 Charles Howell-III
29 Arron Oberholser
30 Richard Green
31 Aaron Baddeley Aus
32 Ian Poulter
33 Brett Wetterich
34 Woody Austin
35 Robert Allenby
36 Stephen Ames
37 Richard Sterne
38 Rod Pampling
39 Tim Clark
40 Anders Hansen
41 Boo Weekley
42 Colin Montgomerie
43 Davis Love-III
44 Jose M Olazabal
45 Robert Karlsson
46 Mike Weir
47 John Senden
48 Carl Pettersson
49 Hunter Mahan
50 Chris DiMarco
According to the rankings the number two power in the world is Australia with a total of nine players, two of which are in the top ten and three in the top twenty. Third is South Africa with six players, one top ten and four top twenties. The inventors of the great game, the Scots/ English, rank fourth with five players (one Scotsman and four English), no top tens and only two top twenties, followed by the Swedes with four players with one in the top ten.
If you’ve been watching the majors you know that both Argentina and Spain have two players each. Likewise, our Canadian friends up north have two players, and unlike the ladies’ Tour, which is dominated by Koreans, the men’s Tour only has one.
It’s a bit of a surprise, because they are such rabid golfers, but the Irish have only one player in the top fifty; Padraig Harrington is the number six ranked player in the world, which is exactly the same number for the country that claims the number seven player in the world, Vijay Singh from Fiji.
Certainly golf doesn’t come close to soccer in the number of players participating around the world, and I guess it really doesn’t challenge soccer in the number of countries participating either, but it makes you proud to know that the top ten players in golf represent seven different countries and that they have 850,000,000 frequent flyer miles collectively.
World Rankings
1 Tiger Woods
2 Jim Furyk
3 Phil Mickelson
4 Ernie Els
5 Adam Scott
6 Padraig Harrington
7 Vijay Singh
8 Sergio Garcia
9 Geoff Ogilvy
11 Luke Donald
12 Choi Kyung-Ju
13 Rory Sabbatini
14 Steve Stricker
15 Justin Rose
16 Zach Johnson
17 Retief Goosen
18 Trevor Immelman
19 Angel Cabrera
20 Paul Casey
21 Niclas Fasth
22 Stewart Cink
23 Scott Verplank
24 David Toms
25 Stuart Appleby
26 Nick O'Hern
27 Andres Romero
28 Charles Howell-III
29 Arron Oberholser
30 Richard Green
31 Aaron Baddeley Aus
32 Ian Poulter
33 Brett Wetterich
34 Woody Austin
35 Robert Allenby
36 Stephen Ames
37 Richard Sterne
38 Rod Pampling
39 Tim Clark
40 Anders Hansen
41 Boo Weekley
42 Colin Montgomerie
43 Davis Love-III
44 Jose M Olazabal
45 Robert Karlsson
46 Mike Weir
47 John Senden
48 Carl Pettersson
49 Hunter Mahan
50 Chris DiMarco
Monday, August 13, 2007
Tee It Up With Barry
Like it or not Barry Bond is now baseball’s all-time leading homerun champion with 756 dingers. With a hat size akin to a basketball, and late career numbers that read like they were written on a prescription pad, baseball will not plant an asterisk beside his name even though he maybe be indicted later this year for the BS he told the grand jury.
Sorry Hank.
For an athlete, probably any athlete, the temptation to use steroids or some other kind of performance enhancing drug is obvious and perhaps even rational. In baseball it may only take one great year to get that big contract and the same goes for football. Now you’re set for life, even if that life turns out to be a shorter than expected. But according to Robert Earl Keen, when you’re 30 years old, “The road goes on forever and the party never ends,” or at least that’s the way it feels.
If you’re keeping score, track and field, baseball, football, cycling, gymnastics, swimming, even snowboarding (although those drugs may just be for fun) have all been touched by drug problems… the exception is golf. Is that logical?
Imagine you’re the 125th player on the PGA Tour. You’ve bounced back and forth between the PGA and the Nationwide Tours. You’ve made a few bucks but never enough to make life secure. Rightly or wrongly, you believe that the only thing holding you back is that your average driving distance is 265 instead of 295. Are you tempted?
What would you do for fame and fortune?
Has your doctor ever prescribed steroids? Mine has. There are no needles; in many cases it’s a clear gel that rubs on like suntan lotion. It’s not scary, nor does it feel dangerous, and it definitely doesn’t feel wrong. In my case, the steroid was to build bone density, however I did notice a bit more zip in my step, and over time (six months) I became more aggressive to the point I stopped using the drug on my own.
Perhaps golfers are immune to the temptations, or perhaps the Commissioner is. I suspect that like baseball, golf has figured out that the fans come to see the long-ball, and as good as some of the Punch and Judy players are, what we really want to see is someone hit the ball ten miles. And, just like baseball, as long as you will pay for it (no matter what “it” turns out to be) the sport will do everything in its power to serve it up. You want full contact golf? Well, if you’ll pay to see it, the WWA and PGA will start merger talks tomorrow.
We like to think that we have changed over the past 30,000 years; we’ve become more civilized, after all we now have doctors at ringside, but that doesn’t change the fact that men still hit each other in the head for our pleasure. I say this while fully admitting that I like a good a boxing match as much as the next guy. I don’t know, perhaps it is Neanderthal, brain-stem stuff that draws us to the car-wreck and the long-ball, and maybe it will take another 30,000 years for us to appreciate the finer things that life has to offer. Until then we’ll tee it high and watch it fly.
Are professional golfers using steroids? More than likely. Do I want to see Tiger and the boys peeing in a cup before each round, frankly no. However, I do hope that those players that are tempted will get some good advice from their doctors and others who know the real dangers of steroids.
Sorry Hank.
For an athlete, probably any athlete, the temptation to use steroids or some other kind of performance enhancing drug is obvious and perhaps even rational. In baseball it may only take one great year to get that big contract and the same goes for football. Now you’re set for life, even if that life turns out to be a shorter than expected. But according to Robert Earl Keen, when you’re 30 years old, “The road goes on forever and the party never ends,” or at least that’s the way it feels.
If you’re keeping score, track and field, baseball, football, cycling, gymnastics, swimming, even snowboarding (although those drugs may just be for fun) have all been touched by drug problems… the exception is golf. Is that logical?
Imagine you’re the 125th player on the PGA Tour. You’ve bounced back and forth between the PGA and the Nationwide Tours. You’ve made a few bucks but never enough to make life secure. Rightly or wrongly, you believe that the only thing holding you back is that your average driving distance is 265 instead of 295. Are you tempted?
What would you do for fame and fortune?
Has your doctor ever prescribed steroids? Mine has. There are no needles; in many cases it’s a clear gel that rubs on like suntan lotion. It’s not scary, nor does it feel dangerous, and it definitely doesn’t feel wrong. In my case, the steroid was to build bone density, however I did notice a bit more zip in my step, and over time (six months) I became more aggressive to the point I stopped using the drug on my own.
Perhaps golfers are immune to the temptations, or perhaps the Commissioner is. I suspect that like baseball, golf has figured out that the fans come to see the long-ball, and as good as some of the Punch and Judy players are, what we really want to see is someone hit the ball ten miles. And, just like baseball, as long as you will pay for it (no matter what “it” turns out to be) the sport will do everything in its power to serve it up. You want full contact golf? Well, if you’ll pay to see it, the WWA and PGA will start merger talks tomorrow.
We like to think that we have changed over the past 30,000 years; we’ve become more civilized, after all we now have doctors at ringside, but that doesn’t change the fact that men still hit each other in the head for our pleasure. I say this while fully admitting that I like a good a boxing match as much as the next guy. I don’t know, perhaps it is Neanderthal, brain-stem stuff that draws us to the car-wreck and the long-ball, and maybe it will take another 30,000 years for us to appreciate the finer things that life has to offer. Until then we’ll tee it high and watch it fly.
Are professional golfers using steroids? More than likely. Do I want to see Tiger and the boys peeing in a cup before each round, frankly no. However, I do hope that those players that are tempted will get some good advice from their doctors and others who know the real dangers of steroids.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Gentlemen Start Your Engines
I am not a NASCAR guy and frankly I wouldn’t know the NEXTEL Cup from any other athletic cup, and as of this moment, I feel exactly the same way about the FedEx Cup. Perhaps it is because I have never experienced the excitement of a FedEx Cup fight to the finish, and once I do, I will buy the tee shirt. But for now, I’m still skeptical.
I’m not sure why I feel this way, maybe it’s because it feels contrived, like a made for TV stunt that serves no real purpose. A playoff system makes sense for football and other team sports, but isn’t every golf tournament a playoff, and doesn’t the money list tell us who the best golfer was in any given year? Which number is most important: Tiger’s $5,214,385 in winnings, or his 20,899 FedEx points?
Another thing that bugs me is that this exclusive playoff system is limited to the best 144 players, or in other words, just about everyone. The first cut is to 120 players, which means only 24 players are eliminated. Which begs the question: did those 24 ever have a chance in the first place?
A week later, the field is cut to 70 players, or about the same number of players that normally make a Friday cut each week. The following week 70 becomes 30 and we’re ready for the Tour Championship, which if I recall, used to be the top 30 money winners. It will be interesting to see how many of the top 30 money winners and the 30 players making the cut are the same. Sure, there will be a few blind hogs finding an acorn, but I’ll be surprised if the top 30 money winners are not well represented.
Perhaps my skepticism is because I have never believed that this tournament is about trying to identify the best player; it about money, for both the player and the PGA. And the money is big, really big. Each of the four tournaments has a purse of $7,000,000, plus, when all is said and done, the overall points leader picks up a cool $10,000,000. Then there is TV money, sponsor money, ticket sales, concessions, and of course tee shirt sales.
An oddity of the tournament (and NASCAR) is that the winner of the playoffs and the winner of the $10,000,000 points leader bonus may not be the same person, which creates all kinds of interesting scenarios.
Imagine some kid from out of nowhere is leading the Tournament, but the guys in second and third place are dueling for the points lead and the $10,000,000. Now, the kid from out of nowhere can’t possibly catch the points leader, but the points leader could catch the kid from out of nowhere. A birdie ties the kid, but it’s a dangerous shot and brings 6 into the equation. A par retains the points lead and the $10,000,000 prize.
Can you say lay up?
Frankly, I could never imagine a situation where a golfer might get booed, but this could be the case. I don’t like the idea of golfers playing for second place, or trying to stay in the top ten so they could be the overall points winner. I understand that golf is how these guys make a living, but I hate the thought of a business decision deciding a tournament. It’s enough to make Dale Earnhardt turn over in his grave.
On the other hand, if Tiger kicks everybody’s butt, wins the tournament and the $10,000,000 points bonus and all is right in the universe, who cares? Which brings me back to where I started; what’s the point?
But I’m trying to keep an open mind.
I’m not sure why I feel this way, maybe it’s because it feels contrived, like a made for TV stunt that serves no real purpose. A playoff system makes sense for football and other team sports, but isn’t every golf tournament a playoff, and doesn’t the money list tell us who the best golfer was in any given year? Which number is most important: Tiger’s $5,214,385 in winnings, or his 20,899 FedEx points?
Another thing that bugs me is that this exclusive playoff system is limited to the best 144 players, or in other words, just about everyone. The first cut is to 120 players, which means only 24 players are eliminated. Which begs the question: did those 24 ever have a chance in the first place?
A week later, the field is cut to 70 players, or about the same number of players that normally make a Friday cut each week. The following week 70 becomes 30 and we’re ready for the Tour Championship, which if I recall, used to be the top 30 money winners. It will be interesting to see how many of the top 30 money winners and the 30 players making the cut are the same. Sure, there will be a few blind hogs finding an acorn, but I’ll be surprised if the top 30 money winners are not well represented.
Perhaps my skepticism is because I have never believed that this tournament is about trying to identify the best player; it about money, for both the player and the PGA. And the money is big, really big. Each of the four tournaments has a purse of $7,000,000, plus, when all is said and done, the overall points leader picks up a cool $10,000,000. Then there is TV money, sponsor money, ticket sales, concessions, and of course tee shirt sales.
An oddity of the tournament (and NASCAR) is that the winner of the playoffs and the winner of the $10,000,000 points leader bonus may not be the same person, which creates all kinds of interesting scenarios.
Imagine some kid from out of nowhere is leading the Tournament, but the guys in second and third place are dueling for the points lead and the $10,000,000. Now, the kid from out of nowhere can’t possibly catch the points leader, but the points leader could catch the kid from out of nowhere. A birdie ties the kid, but it’s a dangerous shot and brings 6 into the equation. A par retains the points lead and the $10,000,000 prize.
Can you say lay up?
Frankly, I could never imagine a situation where a golfer might get booed, but this could be the case. I don’t like the idea of golfers playing for second place, or trying to stay in the top ten so they could be the overall points winner. I understand that golf is how these guys make a living, but I hate the thought of a business decision deciding a tournament. It’s enough to make Dale Earnhardt turn over in his grave.
On the other hand, if Tiger kicks everybody’s butt, wins the tournament and the $10,000,000 points bonus and all is right in the universe, who cares? Which brings me back to where I started; what’s the point?
But I’m trying to keep an open mind.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Thanks Padraig and Sergio and Carnoustie
For your sake, I hope you watched the Open at Carnoustie, Scotland this past week because it was great theater. It started with Sergio Garcia’s amazing 65 in the first round and his declaration that he wanted to win one for Seve Ballesteros, and for three and a half rounds it looked like he would do just that. But unlike Ben Crenshaw when he won the 1995 Masters for his mentor Harvey Penick, Sergio failed to call his shot, and by the time he made the turn on Sunday his lead had disappeared.
Then came Andres Romero, looking all of twelve years old, with ten birdies, a two shot lead and only two holes to play. You could see the headlines, “Second Argentinean Wins Major.” It was Snoopy striking out Joe DiMaggio; Russell Crow out rebounding Bill Russell; and Carl Lewis losing the 100-meter sprint to Jerry Lewis. Unfortunately, by the end of the day, the stars realigned themselves and young Mr. Romero shot three over on the last two holes.
However, throughout the day Irishman Padraig Harrington stalked the course with the relentless steadiness that he is famous for. Hole after hole Padraig watched each pretender fall by the wayside one-by-one until he alone stood at the top of the mountain. This would be his moment. This would be the return of Irish and European golf. Standing on the 18th tee he could almost hear the cheering emanating from his favorite pub in County Cork. Then with the ghost Jean Van de Velde lurking in the tall grass, and Harrington home free with a three shot lead, he unexplainably pulled out his driver.
At that point there was only two possible outcomes. The first was a fabulous long drive down the middle directly toward the Claret Jug and immortality, or the second which was a miserable miss hit that comes tantalizing close to accidentally skipping across the bridge only to hit the railing and fall hopelessly into the water.
Well, it wouldn’t have been nearly as exciting if he had hit it 285 yards down the middle, would it?
But Padraig was not through. He had another chance at immortality. His three shot lead was now basically two and all he had to do was take his drop, then lay up his third shot, hit his fourth shot on the green and two putt for all the glory. Simple enough. But for some reason, and to everyone’s amazement, he reaches into his bag and pulls out a long iron and proceeds to hit a second ball into the water. Suddenly his Irish brogue was sounding very French and the ghost of Jean Van de Velde was about to be replaced by an Irishman.
When the smoke had cleared Padraig was one stroke behind Sergio Garcia, who appeared to be waiting to make good on his promise to Seve. All that stood between him and keeping his promise was the 18th hole at Carnoustie.
By now, sitting in front of my television sipping on a Diet Dr. Pepper and munching on a Pringle, my own emotions had been torn asunder and I couldn’t imagine what Sergio and Padraig were feeling. It had already been Friday The Thirteenth III and I didn’t know if I could stand Jason coming back to life one more time. Go ahead Sergio, bring back my faith in the golf gods, make par and they’ll start writing songs about you in Spain, Dreams Do Come True.
He had used a Tiger-like Old Course strategy of playing it safe all week and hitting long irons off many of the dangerous tees; now all he had to do was make two more swings, two putts and his place in golf history would be secure. I bet the mayor of his hometown had already started mapping out the route for the parade.
The number one handicap hole at Carnoustie is the 499 yard 18th. The burn swings across the fairway twice, once at about 209 yards and the second time only twenty yards from the green. For Garcia, with a one shot lead there was no need to do anything foolish like hit a driver, so smartly he pulled out his trusty 3-iron, the one that had served him so well all week long. He would place it safely in the middle of the fairway and make a second shot onto the green, two putts and start celebrating. But the golf gods had one more trick up their sleeves. Sergio would have to stand on the tee and wait fifteen minutes before hitting his tee shot. Fifteen minutes to think about it.
Perhaps it wasn’t the ghost of Jean Van de Velde that caused Sergio to hit his tee shot fat resulting in his ball being about twenty yards short of where he had intended, but he was still in the fairway, a long ways away, but nonetheless, in the fairway.
It was at that point that I knew one of difference between me a Sergio Garcia, you see, I’ve always know that the golf Gods had a sick sense of humor, so I was not surprised when Sergio had to wait another fifteen minutes to hit his second shot. And I don’t care who you are, standing there waiting for fifteen minutes to hit your second shot for the Open Championship is difficult beyond belief. Not surprisingly, it was not Sergio’s best shot that found the bunker in front of the green, but even as the golf gods snickered, he was still not dead. All he needed to do is to hit the bunker shot close, one putt and start counting the $1,542,450, but it was not to be.
After Sergio missed the ten-foot putt to win, he was devastated, and who could blame him. He was one inch left from immortality and failed. Sure, there was a four-hole playoff, but it’s hard to play those last four holes with a stake in your heart.
As I sat there in my easy chair emotionally drained, I felt for Sergio and Andres Romero and all of the others that had a shot and came up short. Wow, I thought, this was a great golf tournament; an emotional roller coaster with incredible ebb and flow and Tiger wasn’t even on the first page of the leader-board. Is that possible, a great golf tournament without Tiger in contention? I guess the answer is yes.
Then came Andres Romero, looking all of twelve years old, with ten birdies, a two shot lead and only two holes to play. You could see the headlines, “Second Argentinean Wins Major.” It was Snoopy striking out Joe DiMaggio; Russell Crow out rebounding Bill Russell; and Carl Lewis losing the 100-meter sprint to Jerry Lewis. Unfortunately, by the end of the day, the stars realigned themselves and young Mr. Romero shot three over on the last two holes.
However, throughout the day Irishman Padraig Harrington stalked the course with the relentless steadiness that he is famous for. Hole after hole Padraig watched each pretender fall by the wayside one-by-one until he alone stood at the top of the mountain. This would be his moment. This would be the return of Irish and European golf. Standing on the 18th tee he could almost hear the cheering emanating from his favorite pub in County Cork. Then with the ghost Jean Van de Velde lurking in the tall grass, and Harrington home free with a three shot lead, he unexplainably pulled out his driver.
At that point there was only two possible outcomes. The first was a fabulous long drive down the middle directly toward the Claret Jug and immortality, or the second which was a miserable miss hit that comes tantalizing close to accidentally skipping across the bridge only to hit the railing and fall hopelessly into the water.
Well, it wouldn’t have been nearly as exciting if he had hit it 285 yards down the middle, would it?
But Padraig was not through. He had another chance at immortality. His three shot lead was now basically two and all he had to do was take his drop, then lay up his third shot, hit his fourth shot on the green and two putt for all the glory. Simple enough. But for some reason, and to everyone’s amazement, he reaches into his bag and pulls out a long iron and proceeds to hit a second ball into the water. Suddenly his Irish brogue was sounding very French and the ghost of Jean Van de Velde was about to be replaced by an Irishman.
When the smoke had cleared Padraig was one stroke behind Sergio Garcia, who appeared to be waiting to make good on his promise to Seve. All that stood between him and keeping his promise was the 18th hole at Carnoustie.
By now, sitting in front of my television sipping on a Diet Dr. Pepper and munching on a Pringle, my own emotions had been torn asunder and I couldn’t imagine what Sergio and Padraig were feeling. It had already been Friday The Thirteenth III and I didn’t know if I could stand Jason coming back to life one more time. Go ahead Sergio, bring back my faith in the golf gods, make par and they’ll start writing songs about you in Spain, Dreams Do Come True.
He had used a Tiger-like Old Course strategy of playing it safe all week and hitting long irons off many of the dangerous tees; now all he had to do was make two more swings, two putts and his place in golf history would be secure. I bet the mayor of his hometown had already started mapping out the route for the parade.
The number one handicap hole at Carnoustie is the 499 yard 18th. The burn swings across the fairway twice, once at about 209 yards and the second time only twenty yards from the green. For Garcia, with a one shot lead there was no need to do anything foolish like hit a driver, so smartly he pulled out his trusty 3-iron, the one that had served him so well all week long. He would place it safely in the middle of the fairway and make a second shot onto the green, two putts and start celebrating. But the golf gods had one more trick up their sleeves. Sergio would have to stand on the tee and wait fifteen minutes before hitting his tee shot. Fifteen minutes to think about it.
Perhaps it wasn’t the ghost of Jean Van de Velde that caused Sergio to hit his tee shot fat resulting in his ball being about twenty yards short of where he had intended, but he was still in the fairway, a long ways away, but nonetheless, in the fairway.
It was at that point that I knew one of difference between me a Sergio Garcia, you see, I’ve always know that the golf Gods had a sick sense of humor, so I was not surprised when Sergio had to wait another fifteen minutes to hit his second shot. And I don’t care who you are, standing there waiting for fifteen minutes to hit your second shot for the Open Championship is difficult beyond belief. Not surprisingly, it was not Sergio’s best shot that found the bunker in front of the green, but even as the golf gods snickered, he was still not dead. All he needed to do is to hit the bunker shot close, one putt and start counting the $1,542,450, but it was not to be.
After Sergio missed the ten-foot putt to win, he was devastated, and who could blame him. He was one inch left from immortality and failed. Sure, there was a four-hole playoff, but it’s hard to play those last four holes with a stake in your heart.
As I sat there in my easy chair emotionally drained, I felt for Sergio and Andres Romero and all of the others that had a shot and came up short. Wow, I thought, this was a great golf tournament; an emotional roller coaster with incredible ebb and flow and Tiger wasn’t even on the first page of the leader-board. Is that possible, a great golf tournament without Tiger in contention? I guess the answer is yes.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Tiger Woods And The Dangers Of Looking Human
A buddy and me were shooting pool and drinking beer one day, when he asked me, “Why aren’t we rich?”
Being the sage that I am I answered, “Because it’s 2:30 on Tuesday afternoon and we’re shooting pool and drinking beer instead of working.”
Okay, now imagine that you’re Tiger Woods and you look down at your bank account and you see $100,000,012.54. Are you tempted to roll over and hit the snooze alarm for ten years or so? To me, that has always been the real difference between Tiger Woods and everybody else; he never seemed to reach for the snooze alarm. He is not only the most talented player in the world; he is also one of the hardest workers, as well.
But are things changing?
For almost two years now Tiger seems to be a little out of sync, and that’s understandable. First, there was his marriage, then the death of his father, and now the birth of his first child. Probably any one of those emotional events would set you and I back for months. Now, take all of that and add the normal, day-to-day pressures of simply being Tiger Woods and you have the formula for a total collapse, or at the very least a club throwing hissy fit.
There have been difficulties, sure, but no collapse, or hissy fit. He is still the leading money winner on Tour and the number one ranked player in the world, so what’s the worry?
The answer is simple; he’s starting to look human, even vulnerable.
Remember Mike Tyson before Buster Douglas? He wasn’t human, he was unbeatable, invincible, the scariest man on the planet. But, somehow he lost to Buster and he was no longer invincible and very human. Within the count of ten, Mike Tyson started down that road of “no respect,” which he never recovered from.
Tiger is not Mike Tyson (thank God), but he is starting to look human and that is a dangerous territory for an intimidator, any intimidator. Competitively, Tiger was like Tyson. He carried the aura of invincibility. People didn’t believe that they could beat him and as long as they felt that way they couldn’t. Now, he’s lost to a fat boy from Argentina and last week he was never in the hunt. And there have been other signs. Granted, two weeks does not a season make, and as I said before he is still the leading money winner on Tour and the number one ranked player in the world, but I’m worried.
As good as Tiger is, and I certainly believe that he is the best golfer in the world, I don’t believe that he can simply show up and win. Perhaps he can show up and finish in the top-ten, and frankly he maybe that good, but I hope that’s not the plan. I want to see Tiger be Tiger. I want to see the best golfer in the world be as good as he can possibly be every time he tees it up; that why’s I am proposing that Tiger should get a divorce.
I’m selfish; I don’t want Tiger to be human, or married, or a father. I want him to be the greatest golfer in the world 24/7. Remember, Joe DiMaggio waited until after his career was over before he married Marilyn Monroe. Would “The Yankee Clipper” have had a 56 game hitting streak with Marilyn whispering in his ear? I think not.
High jumper Dwight Stone talked about pacing himself because he was receiving a check every time he broke the world record. Using this tactic he set the world record six or seven times, but he never jumped as high as he could because he was always saving room for another world record and another check. Later on he said how much he regretted not putting the bar as high as he could when he could.
Tiger is in his prime and now is not the time to start pacing himself. Now is the time to see how high he can set the bar, and I want to watch. So the only reasonable answer is to get a divorce. Certainly, this might create a hardship for wife Elin and Sam Alexis Woods, but nothing comforts hardships like a zillion dollars in the bank.
I agree that my expectations of Tiger are not fair. Like any other human being he should be able to marry, raise a family and enjoy his $100,000,012.54 when and where he sees fit. But my advice to him is the same as I gave my friend some years ago, “Stop shooting pool and drinking beer and go to work.”
Like it or not, you’re a supernatural being, so let your mom baby-sit, send Elin to Rodeo Drive and get yourself to the driving range before the British Open.
Being the sage that I am I answered, “Because it’s 2:30 on Tuesday afternoon and we’re shooting pool and drinking beer instead of working.”
Okay, now imagine that you’re Tiger Woods and you look down at your bank account and you see $100,000,012.54. Are you tempted to roll over and hit the snooze alarm for ten years or so? To me, that has always been the real difference between Tiger Woods and everybody else; he never seemed to reach for the snooze alarm. He is not only the most talented player in the world; he is also one of the hardest workers, as well.
But are things changing?
For almost two years now Tiger seems to be a little out of sync, and that’s understandable. First, there was his marriage, then the death of his father, and now the birth of his first child. Probably any one of those emotional events would set you and I back for months. Now, take all of that and add the normal, day-to-day pressures of simply being Tiger Woods and you have the formula for a total collapse, or at the very least a club throwing hissy fit.
There have been difficulties, sure, but no collapse, or hissy fit. He is still the leading money winner on Tour and the number one ranked player in the world, so what’s the worry?
The answer is simple; he’s starting to look human, even vulnerable.
Remember Mike Tyson before Buster Douglas? He wasn’t human, he was unbeatable, invincible, the scariest man on the planet. But, somehow he lost to Buster and he was no longer invincible and very human. Within the count of ten, Mike Tyson started down that road of “no respect,” which he never recovered from.
Tiger is not Mike Tyson (thank God), but he is starting to look human and that is a dangerous territory for an intimidator, any intimidator. Competitively, Tiger was like Tyson. He carried the aura of invincibility. People didn’t believe that they could beat him and as long as they felt that way they couldn’t. Now, he’s lost to a fat boy from Argentina and last week he was never in the hunt. And there have been other signs. Granted, two weeks does not a season make, and as I said before he is still the leading money winner on Tour and the number one ranked player in the world, but I’m worried.
As good as Tiger is, and I certainly believe that he is the best golfer in the world, I don’t believe that he can simply show up and win. Perhaps he can show up and finish in the top-ten, and frankly he maybe that good, but I hope that’s not the plan. I want to see Tiger be Tiger. I want to see the best golfer in the world be as good as he can possibly be every time he tees it up; that why’s I am proposing that Tiger should get a divorce.
I’m selfish; I don’t want Tiger to be human, or married, or a father. I want him to be the greatest golfer in the world 24/7. Remember, Joe DiMaggio waited until after his career was over before he married Marilyn Monroe. Would “The Yankee Clipper” have had a 56 game hitting streak with Marilyn whispering in his ear? I think not.
High jumper Dwight Stone talked about pacing himself because he was receiving a check every time he broke the world record. Using this tactic he set the world record six or seven times, but he never jumped as high as he could because he was always saving room for another world record and another check. Later on he said how much he regretted not putting the bar as high as he could when he could.
Tiger is in his prime and now is not the time to start pacing himself. Now is the time to see how high he can set the bar, and I want to watch. So the only reasonable answer is to get a divorce. Certainly, this might create a hardship for wife Elin and Sam Alexis Woods, but nothing comforts hardships like a zillion dollars in the bank.
I agree that my expectations of Tiger are not fair. Like any other human being he should be able to marry, raise a family and enjoy his $100,000,012.54 when and where he sees fit. But my advice to him is the same as I gave my friend some years ago, “Stop shooting pool and drinking beer and go to work.”
Like it or not, you’re a supernatural being, so let your mom baby-sit, send Elin to Rodeo Drive and get yourself to the driving range before the British Open.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Growing Up A Prodigy
Having never been a prodigy of any kind it is difficult for me to understand what it must be like growing up carrying those kinds of expectations. While I was busy learning how to walk and chew gum at the same time, a 14 year old named Nadia Comaneci was sticking a perfect ten at the Olympic games.
How does anyone do that?
The soccer prodigy Freddy Adu turned pro at 14, and at 17 years, 74 days Maria Sharapova won Wimbledon. When I was 17 years, 74 days old the only thing I was serving was pancakes at the local IHOP, and soccer wasn’t even a varsity sport.
If I recall, Tiger Woods played in the Nissan Los Angeles Open when he was 16. He didn’t win, but even if he had finished dead last, which he didn’t, he was still doing better than me.
As for the importance of an education to sports prodigies, Coby and LeBron ditched college all together and you can count on one hand the number of NBA stars that graduate from any where. Granted, there are ten thousand “would be prodigies” that dropped out of school and are now working on the shipping dock, and that is sad if you believe that basketball kept them out of medical school. However, taking your shot and not succeeding is not necessarily failing, and there is nothing dishonorable about working on the dock.
Are there prodigies that don’t fulfill their promise? Sure. Would they have been better served by taking it slow, or staying in school, or firing their agents, or their coaches, or having better parents? Who can really say. Life, even the lives of prodigies, is a mixture of nature and nurture and nothing is ever decided by talent alone.
Today, I’m a lot older than 14 and I don’t have a shoe contract, nor have I ever fired an agent, and I promise you that no one has ever offered me a zillion bucks to play a game. Which brings me to the point: Am better off because of that? Gosh, I hope not.
Is Nadia Comaneci better or worse off because someone pushed her to greatness? How about Freddy or Maria, or Coby, or LeBron, or even Tiger; are they better or worse off? Certainly they are better off financially, but being “better off” can mean a lot of different things, would you agree?
How about Michelle Wie, is she better or worse off? The truth is we don’t know because all we really know is Michelle Wie the television personality and golfer, and that’s not real life. Is she embracing the life of a celebrity golfer, or does she hate it? It’s hard to tell. Some people thrive on conflict, while others need more nurturing. I don’t know Michelle’s parents, or agent and I have no idea if she is being served well by them. I do know this, even if she never plays another game of golf in her life, she is probably financially set for life. Is she ruining her potential? I don’t know. If she had waited until she was older to turn pro would she have received the same contract from Nike and the same attention from the press? Would she be a better golfer? Who can say for sure?
Can you be a prodigy and not be driven? Did Tiger Woods wake up one morning and decide to be a golfer, or did his father drive him to the driving range every day from the time he was potty trained? Perhaps obsession comes with the territory.
Has Michelle made some mistakes? Certainly. However, unlike you and I, Michelle is making her teenage mistakes on national television and that’s really difficult; just ask Lindsey Lohan. I’m trying to imagine living my teenage years on national television and how ugly that would have been.
A couple of years ago I saw Michelle Wie on Sixty Minutes. It was the same day that she got her driver’s license, if I recall. When the interviewer asked her what she liked to do most, she answered like a teenage girl that had never picked up a golfclub in her life, “I like to hang out at the mall with my friends,” she said. And, in subsequent interviews, I heard her sound exactly her age, more times than not. As a matter of fact, the only time I ever heard her sound older was when she was answering golf questions.
Without question, Michelle Wie is a prodigy, not merely because she plays golf, or because she can hit the ball a mile, she a prodigy because she is so young. She’s the bearded lady in the circus and when she shaves, or in Michelle’s case becomes older, she will no longer be the story, so there is some logic to running as fast as you can, as long as you can.
I think Michelle is going to be fine. She is enrolling at Stanford this summer. Perhaps she’ll find a guy and never play golf again, or maybe she’ll find her game and reach the potential that we all hope to witness. Whatever happens, she seems like a nice young lady and I wish her nothing but the best.
How does anyone do that?
The soccer prodigy Freddy Adu turned pro at 14, and at 17 years, 74 days Maria Sharapova won Wimbledon. When I was 17 years, 74 days old the only thing I was serving was pancakes at the local IHOP, and soccer wasn’t even a varsity sport.
If I recall, Tiger Woods played in the Nissan Los Angeles Open when he was 16. He didn’t win, but even if he had finished dead last, which he didn’t, he was still doing better than me.
As for the importance of an education to sports prodigies, Coby and LeBron ditched college all together and you can count on one hand the number of NBA stars that graduate from any where. Granted, there are ten thousand “would be prodigies” that dropped out of school and are now working on the shipping dock, and that is sad if you believe that basketball kept them out of medical school. However, taking your shot and not succeeding is not necessarily failing, and there is nothing dishonorable about working on the dock.
Are there prodigies that don’t fulfill their promise? Sure. Would they have been better served by taking it slow, or staying in school, or firing their agents, or their coaches, or having better parents? Who can really say. Life, even the lives of prodigies, is a mixture of nature and nurture and nothing is ever decided by talent alone.
Today, I’m a lot older than 14 and I don’t have a shoe contract, nor have I ever fired an agent, and I promise you that no one has ever offered me a zillion bucks to play a game. Which brings me to the point: Am better off because of that? Gosh, I hope not.
Is Nadia Comaneci better or worse off because someone pushed her to greatness? How about Freddy or Maria, or Coby, or LeBron, or even Tiger; are they better or worse off? Certainly they are better off financially, but being “better off” can mean a lot of different things, would you agree?
How about Michelle Wie, is she better or worse off? The truth is we don’t know because all we really know is Michelle Wie the television personality and golfer, and that’s not real life. Is she embracing the life of a celebrity golfer, or does she hate it? It’s hard to tell. Some people thrive on conflict, while others need more nurturing. I don’t know Michelle’s parents, or agent and I have no idea if she is being served well by them. I do know this, even if she never plays another game of golf in her life, she is probably financially set for life. Is she ruining her potential? I don’t know. If she had waited until she was older to turn pro would she have received the same contract from Nike and the same attention from the press? Would she be a better golfer? Who can say for sure?
Can you be a prodigy and not be driven? Did Tiger Woods wake up one morning and decide to be a golfer, or did his father drive him to the driving range every day from the time he was potty trained? Perhaps obsession comes with the territory.
Has Michelle made some mistakes? Certainly. However, unlike you and I, Michelle is making her teenage mistakes on national television and that’s really difficult; just ask Lindsey Lohan. I’m trying to imagine living my teenage years on national television and how ugly that would have been.
A couple of years ago I saw Michelle Wie on Sixty Minutes. It was the same day that she got her driver’s license, if I recall. When the interviewer asked her what she liked to do most, she answered like a teenage girl that had never picked up a golfclub in her life, “I like to hang out at the mall with my friends,” she said. And, in subsequent interviews, I heard her sound exactly her age, more times than not. As a matter of fact, the only time I ever heard her sound older was when she was answering golf questions.
Without question, Michelle Wie is a prodigy, not merely because she plays golf, or because she can hit the ball a mile, she a prodigy because she is so young. She’s the bearded lady in the circus and when she shaves, or in Michelle’s case becomes older, she will no longer be the story, so there is some logic to running as fast as you can, as long as you can.
I think Michelle is going to be fine. She is enrolling at Stanford this summer. Perhaps she’ll find a guy and never play golf again, or maybe she’ll find her game and reach the potential that we all hope to witness. Whatever happens, she seems like a nice young lady and I wish her nothing but the best.
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