Outback Steakhouse Pro-am Championship

It’s been over twenty years since I met Bill Fennel at the Quad Cities Open. During the pro-am he mentioned his cabin in Lutz, Fl north of Tampa and said if I was ever in the area it was all mine. I don’t think he knew what he was getting himself into because that little cabin has been my home around Tampa ever since and I sure do appreciate it. In fact, it seems like all my tour friendships have started that way and I value every one of them. Hanging out with a few friends at a tour stop helps ease the grind and makes each stop a bit homey.

There have been a lot of great memories at the TPC Tampa at Cheval but last year wasn’t one of them. The last round was cancelled and while we were packing up my rain suit was stolen from our cart parked in the TPC cart barn. Details aren’t important but I guess my yardage book was in a pocket, it was MIA when I went through my shoebox of yardage books, and that made for a lot of extra work this week, plus another $20 out of my pocket.

Normally, if I’ve been coming to a tournament for a while, and familiar with the course, I can walk the track in two to three hours and be very comfortable with my notes, this year I was on the course every day for three to four hours before we teed it up Friday afternoon. I charted every pin placement with the Exelys Breakmaster digital greens reader and double checked yardages, layup numbers and the course conditions.

Cheval may be the most difficult course on the Champions Tour with a finishing stretch of holes every player and caddie just want to survive when the wind is blowing. Jim Colbert won here with 13 under but usually single digits win the event. The course was in great condition, the greens firm and fast, the weather report was excellent and the Outback folks were doing everything they could to challenge the pros but make it fun for the amateurs.

Ever since Chris Sullivan and Outback took over sponsorship the event has been a celebrity pro-am, this year a bit light in celebrities but a lot of fun for the amateurs. There are party tents everywhere, galas every night and the pro-am participants and spectators are well oiled during the week. Caddies aren’t invited we just have to help control the crowd, assist our amateur partners and sometimes the unusual occurs during play.

We didn’t have to wait long, right out of the box on our first hole the strange began Friday. Each foursome contains two pros plus their amateur partners and our boys were hacking their way up the left side of the fairway. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention until our partner played the wrong ball from a hazard. It was the other amateur’s ball, we replaced it in the hazard and he chipped in for an easy par. Golf is a strange game; we were hoping some of the luck would rub off.

Bob spent last week honing his game at TPC Sawgrass, took a few lessons and had his ailing shoulder worked, he was tuned up and ready to go. I was excited about our chances and after finishing birdie-birdie late Friday afternoon in a difficult wind we were two under tied for 12^th place. One of these days I’ll learn to take it one shot at a time but a positive outlook is an absolute necessity out here; I liked where we were and looking forward to our early Saturday tee time with fresh greens and no wind.

Through the first twelve holes we were one under for the day, tied for 6^th place and cruising nicely. We stepped onto the 13^th tee, waited a bit, and then decided to hit 3 wood on the short challenging par 4. In 1996 I watched Isao Aoki make a nine without a penalty shot on 13. He was leading the tournament, some guy named Nicklaus was close behind and Murph was in the fray alongside in the same threesome. When Jack sank a monster eagle putt on the long par 5 14^th hole he took a three shot lead after trailing by three going into 13. I’ve never seen a six shot swing in two holes and told this story many times. Maybe the Japanese Golfing Gods are tired of this story because nobody was watching out for us.

A strong gust of wind caught our tee ball blowing it into a deep faced bunker guarding the right side of the fairway. You can handle bad breaks one at a time during a tournament but not all on the same hole. I’ve replayed the hole too many times, we made only one mistake but it cost us at least two shots and tons of momentum. Our nine iron caught the lip jumped straight up in the air and buried in the deep sand just below the lip. Long story short we made a nice putt to save 7 and you could hear the wind leave our sails.

There’s not much to say after a 7, you try to change the subject when you’re walking off the next tee and focus on the upcoming holes. We were facing the toughest stretch on tour but we kept rowing the boat and finished without hurting ourselves. You just have to deal with these tough stretches, practice hard daily searching for that little thing which will turn your game around.

Or, you have to get away for a few days forget about this stupid game and recharge your batteries. We’re heading for Tybee Island Monday for R&R and Bob’s heading for Ponte Vedra for dinner with friends and no golf. We’ll hook up late Tuesday afternoon in Savannah and get back at it. We agreed in the parking lot Sunday afternoon the game is real close and all will be well. Like life, golf is a bit streaky and the good streak is coming up soon.

Masters Week – Dad’s Surgery

I finished last week’s Kaddy Korner just before the bottom dropped out of my Ft. Myers flight. My Ginger ale hit the ceiling landing in my lap and the guy sitting behind me asked if his computer hit me in the back of my head, it was also airborne. Next to an emergency landing in San Diego early in my career this was the worst flight experience of my life. As I walked off the plane I thanked the pilot for the exciting ride and the flight attendant said, “It was only a 150 foot drop, you don’t get that at Disneyworld.”

For a week off it was quite eventful. I was looking forward to the Masters, the field was wide open this year and the largest, 99 invitees, since the 1960s. Anyone had a chance and the favorites weren’t a for sure thing. The only thing I was worried about was Dad and his triple bypass surgery scheduled for Tuesday morning. Driving back from Biloxi, MS we found out Dad was having surgery earlier than expected so it was a quick turnaround and back to reality.

Often we’re able to hide a bit from life’s realities while out on tour. Traveling from city to city we escape the daily grind. We hear about folk’s trials and tribulations but often don’t experience them. It’s easy to get lost in your hotel room, on the practice tee, or playing on the course and forget about real life. This week was a real life experience, something I was glad I was there for. My irregular schedule came in handy, it was nice to be there with Mom and Dad, they were there for me during my surgery and recuperation.

The Masters is my big event of the year. It used to be the World Series but strikes, egos, individualism in a team sport and steroids have erased much of my enthusiasm for baseball. Golf is the last true sport bastion, I hope, but this week Dad was more important. Walking into his ICU room Tuesday afternoon I was shocked and the Masters was far from my thoughts. There were 6-8 tubes protruding from his body and monitors everywhere, I’ve seen a few corpses who looked better. His ashen face was swollen and he had no idea we were there. I could care less if Tiger made a comeback or Rory was the next coming of Ben Hogan.

The ten minute visit was enough, Mom and I went home for a nap, she needed a respite from the long day, and actually both of us did. I didn’t even turn on Golf Channel; the Masters was far from my mind. Surgery was less than three hours and all went well but the plan for spending some time with Dad watching the Master while he recuperated was on hold, I just wanted to see him up, moving around and back to life. I was looking forward to spending the next five or six days with Mom and Dad helping out wherever I could, maybe we could sneak a little golf in on the weekend.

During a week on tour you meet a lot of people, usually under relatively benign conditions. There’s always the pro-am foursome for five hours, your bartender at local watering hole, the construction crew staying at the same hotel and the volunteers helping out at every tournament. Casual conversation, laughs, sharing stories and travel experiences are the norm; a week in the hospital is a bit different. Tense moments in the waiting room with strangers definitely outweigh any pressure experienced on the golf course. I’d much rather be pulling clubs trying to win a tournament Sunday afternoon.

We watched most of the Masters while Dad was napping but he got excited watching Rory lead the field and Tiger’s charge on Friday and Sunday. I think it was therapeutic for him, I know it was for me. The only thing better would have been a Cub-Cardinal series on the tube. We brought Dad home Sunday afternoon, tucked him into his recliner and watched Rory’s demise. It was exciting but sad, we all felt for the kid and just before Dad dosed off he said, “it’s too bad the press puts all this pressure on the kid, just let him play golf.”

Dad’s doing well, brother Dan took over nursing duties for the week while I’m in Tampa for the Outback Pro-am with Bob. There’s a lot of positive energy here. Bob won this event a few years ago and Doug Tewell won with me carrying the bag in 2003. It was my first event with Murph in 1993 and he almost won in 1995 but that’s a whole other story.

Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers this week, they were much needed and greatly appreciated.

Master’s Predictions

There are only three first time winners in Masters history and the first two don’t count, Horton Smith and Gene Sarazen in 1934 and 35. Fuzzy won his first time around but other than that you need experience, local knowledge, patience and maybe an Augusta caddy, they know the course better than anyone except maybe Jack. Zach Johnson won his Green Jacket and laid up on every par five; try to get Phil to follow that strategy. What I’m trying to say, Augusta really favors no particular golfer except maybe the long knocker and the great putter but don’t they usually do well at any event.

Only four players have ever won the week before and went on to win the Masters but Phil is still the favorite this week. He has two drivers, a great putter and short game, imagination out the wazoo and “Bones”, a very good caddy who knows his player and the course. Phil has all the tools, momentum, knowledge, experience but whenever he’s had a chance to reach world #1 he falters. Maybe there’s a bit too much pressure this week, we’ll see.

Bubba and D. J. are the exciting picks but all they have is length and maybe a bit of short game. They might top ten but not measured for a jacket. The Europeans are the formidable picks this week. Justin Rose, Lee Westwood, Paul Casey, Luke Donald are all likeable chances but Augusta demands a bit different golf than they are used to. They’ll be close when we get to the back nine Sunday but not on top at the end. The only sentimental pick with half a chance is Fred Couples but his back and balky putter can’t go four rounds any more.

Here’s who I really like this week. These four guys have the best shot at sipping wine in Butler Cabin Sunday evening. Matt Kuchar, Hunter Mahan, Nick Watney and yes, Tiger Woods are the favorites in my book. Matt’s been golfing his ball for awhile and knows Augusta well. Hunter drives it better than anyone on tour, putts the lights out and can go low anytime. Nick Watney has the all round game, tournament experience is questionable, he only has to know the red light green light holes and pins. I just like Tiger at Augusta, that’s all I have to say.

Dad and I will be watching the Masters all weekend while he recuperates from triple by-pass surgery. I can’t think of a better rehab program for both of us.

Whirlwinds are normal traveling on tour but last week was borderline tornadic. After landing in Milwaukee Saturday evening, having dinner and drinks with Cassie and watching UCONN advance to the Final Four we had time for laundry, repacking and washing the car before heading for Biloxi, MS early Monday morning. The uneventful fifteen hour drive stirred memories while passing by the blooming clover fields and blossoming cottonwoods along I-55.

I spent my twenty-first birthday sipping iced tea and playing pinball at a Tillatoba, MS truck stop, then finished it off shooting pool and drinking Cokes in a late night Jackson, MS bar after we skipped curfew during an ISU spring baseball trip. There were too many dry counties for a full fledged celebration.

I started terrorizing the Biloxi gulf coast in 1974 when my high school senior class vacationed for three or four days, continued through college when the Redbird baseball team visited Keesler Air Force base during their spring trips, and often stopped over while driving I-10, caddie highway. There were motorcycle excursions along the coast and through our motel swimming pool, a high school reunion at Vapors with a chaperone escort home, our right fielder spent some time on the beach unknowingly with a good looking transvestite and there were many late night cheeseburgers devoured at The Project.

The Gulf Coast has changed drastically. Katrina and other hurricanes have wiped out the antebellum homes, mom and pop motels and little amusement parks along the coast highway. Large casino resorts have replaced the small town atmosphere but the hospitable and entertaining Cajun folks remain.

Luckily, The Project is still alive, although displaced from its original converted horse stable home and maintains the dark, musty atmosphere with the same characters sipping beers and munching cheeseburgers. We slid in there Monday night after checking into the Ramada and “Tex”, the 70 year old bartender was a bit surly until we mentioned the picture on the wall.

“Yup, that was me fifty years ago when I was stripping on Bourbon Street,” she drawled. She entertained us with a few other stories but we had to leave early, tomorrow would be a long day on the course.

Fallen Oak, or Shadow Creek South as some call it, designed by Tom Fazio is an exclusive club for the Beau Rivage Resort and Casino high rollers. Cut right out of the pine oak forest fifteen miles north of Biloxi about six years ago the layout stretched to the tips would challenge any PGA Tour player. The treacherous almost unplayable bunkers, slick grainy greens, variable winds and tree lined fairways need a lot of attention and I spent hours surveying the course Tuesday while Bob played an off-site pro-am. Last year my hip kept me from adequately walking the course but I was armed with a digital slope indicator bound and determined to conquer these greens. I spent every available moment Tuesday and during the cancelled Wednesday morning pro-am charting the greens making sure I’d know every contour around the tournament pin placements.

The Gulf Coast Resort Classic does a great job pulling in spectators from a lightly populated area and goes out of their way to entertain the pro-am participants. Stretch limos shuttle everyone from casino to clubhouse and during the pro-am the Half Shell Oyster Bar feeds us fried catfish, oysters, and shrimp on the 11^th and 18^th holes while Mickey Bradley, a long time PGA Tour official, and his crew serve up sausage, jambalaya, gumbo, pulled pork and deep fried turkey on the sixth tee. The Huber family can put on a good feed but I’d hate to compete with these Cajuns.

After an all night blackjack foray Wednesday evening the nourishment was welcomed Thursday afternoon and we had a great time with our pro-am crew. I can’t remember my last all-nighter, I’ve matured, this was alcohol free, but I survived and our hacks said they had the time of their lives but failed to offer compensation for my efforts. Oh well, I hit the pillow hard hoping for a good start Friday morning.

My yardage book greens looked like Egyptian hieroglyphics but we deciphered them and Bob had a good round going, tied for the lead at -4 after chipping in for eagle on 13. When your player is on top of the leader board your mind starts to wonder and that’s the last thing a caddie’s brain needs to do. Staying in the moment is foremost; figuring out how you’re going to celebrate Sunday evening should never enter your mind. I cleared my head and focused on the next hole, a short challenging 3 par with swirling winds. After much deliberation we correctly identified the helping wind and landed our eight iron twenty feet under the hole, two putting for par.

On the par five fifteenth we pulled our drive and it trickled across the cart path into the woods but we had a gap through the canopy. Bob’s 23 degree rescue club was perfect and our layup left us with a nine iron just short of the right rough into a swirling headwind. It was a good two putt five, we moved to the 16^th and the toughest finishing hole stretch on the Champions Tour, I was thinking three pars would end the day right.

While waiting for the fairway to clear I picked the wrong time to relieve myself in the woods but it was an emergency. I should have been in Bob’s ear about the wind, all the room to the left side of the 16^th fairway avoiding the deep bunkers on the right.

Our tee ball didn’t find the bunker, much worse. It was hanging in the thick Zoysia rough four inches above the sand and an extremely awkward stance. He pulled a rescue club from the bag and I wondered what he was thinking. I mentioned a wedge out to the left would leave us another wedge to the hole without the danger of a dreaded other on the scorecard. I should have been more adamant, he chose a five iron, the shot trickled into the bunker and the next shot caught the lip advancing about ten yards landing next to a drain. After conferring with an official we received a free drop and fatted a seven iron short of the green. The 12 footer to save double bogey was the only highlight and we three putted the long par three 17^th for bogey. We ended our day one under tied for 28^th.

Golf is all about momentum, having fun and maintaining a rhythm during the round. Bob is a very quick player and for whatever reason the Champions Tour has become a bit methodical, we’re suffering through five hour rounds with long waits between shots. It’s very frustrating when you get off to good start, falter and can’t regain your momentum. We struggled with the greens, not so much the breaks but the speed and finished with three straight bogeys Sunday while watching Mark Brooks a very systematic player fire a 68 and move into the top ten.

We’re going to have to find a way to deal with the slow play out here or it’s going to be a long season. We discussed it in the parking lot after the round then Bob headed for Ponte Vedra, FL and a week of practice before our next tournament in Tampa. We high-tailed it back to Chicago, our plans changed, Wendy had work to do, and I’m on a flight Tuesday morning to Fort Myers, FL. Dad has a triple by-pass scheduled, it’s time for me to take care of them since they looked after me during my recuperation. Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers.

Arriving in the Pacific Palms parking lot a bit groggy, Jimin was just walking in the hotel and the officials had just suspended the Monday qualifier. Fifty-five girls still had to finish for 2 or 3 spots which gave me time for a lobby chair nap and a quick concession stand lunch, timing is everything sometimes. Caddies went from the penthouse to the outhouse this week. The Kia Classic at Industry Hills was long, wet, hilly, a bit tricky and the forecast was cold, dreary and moist, plus the yardage book was a piece of doo-doo, there was a lot of work in front of me.

Last week we were in a five star resort eating gourmet buffets for every meal and this week it was a mediocre, at best, Best Western motel and golf course concession stand sandwiches, some maybe a day or two old. A day old brat for breakfast is okay at deer camp but not right before a competitive round. Luckily, our Garmin GPS found a local watering hole, the Sunset Room, with $2 MGD’s, a great burger, some wonderful folks and a great respite from the long days. The only problem was adjusting your eyes when you first walked in; it was the prime dark and dingy dive bar.

Pacific Palms Resort at Industry Hills was built on a landfill site in the 70s and the two courses, Eisenhower and Zaharias, were cleaned up and reworked about eight years ago. We played a composite layout of the two tracks and practiced on a makeshift range constructed in the middle of a fairway. We practiced in casual water all week and struggled to find a flat lie. The crowds were wonderful, the layout was great, but the rain created soggy conditions and we played lift, clean and cheat the first two rounds with a three hour delay Friday which delayed the cut till almost noon Saturday. I was already on a flight to Milwaukee by then.

Jimin Jeong has a lot of potential, a wonderful work ethic and a great attitude but she has a rib injury hindering her game at the moment. We were the last off Thursday afternoon and the soggy, bumpy. Poaunna greens knocked our putts every which way. We waiting every shot, sometimes for over 10 minutes and never saw an LPGA official helping speed up play. A volunteer mentioned he saw the officials all day sitting in the trees chatting with each other. We finished the last three holes running and putted out on 18 in the dark. One of our playing partners, Nicole Hage, was livid and searched out an LPGA official immediately after the round and vigorously registered her complaint.

Three over on the par 73 track wasn’t bad for an opening afternoon round and we were looking forward to fresh greens and dry conditions Friday morning. Mother Nature had other plans.

It was raining late Thursday evening when I dropped Wendy at LAX and still pouring when the alarm went off early Friday. I was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep knowing there was going to be a delay but being the dedicated looper I am I showed up, weathered the delays in a comfortable chair and caught up on my sleep, travel plans and phone messages. The breakfast burrito in foil was the concession stand’s best offering and I devoured it before my second nap. When we arrived everyone knew there would be a delay but we always have to wait for the tour official’s call. First it was an hour delay and then it was extended to three hours, our tee time went from 8:15 to 11:15 and we didn’t finish till about 5 o’clock.

We birdied our first hole, the 10th, I got a bit cocky and started talking with a Twins fan sitting beside the 11^th tee. We three putted the next two holes. When am I ever going to learn the “Golfing Gods” are always watching and keep you in your place when you don’t respect the game? We righted the ship with a tricky par saving putt on the 13^th but couldn’t manage another birdie all day.

Seven over par sent us packing but while we were settling up in the hotel lobby Jimin wanted me to work a few more tournaments for her. “You’re good caddy,” she said in broken English, “I’m a bad player right now but I’ll get better.” We made tentative plans for Mobile, AL the end of April. She was a treat to work for but the money just isn’t quite enough to get excited about.

This was the first year KIA held the tournament at Industry Hills and it showed. Everyone tried hard but there are a lot of bugs to work out. The first year tournament had a first time winner, Sandra Gal. Last year in Portland she was looking for a caddy and Dave Stockton, her instructor, introduced us and we chatted for awhile. After a few minutes she said, “I’m trying out a younger caddy, we’ll see how it works out. Maybe I’ll get a hold of you.” He was still on the bag Sunday; I guess things are going well. I don’t think she wanted a caddy older than her father.

We had a quick Mexican dinner with Dan and my daughter Cassie, caught the flight at 9:00 landing at LAX at 11:30 picked up the rental car and drove to Palm Springs where my West Coast buddy Todd Newcomb put us up for a few nights. A little R&R, some work and catching up were what the doctor ordered. I finally caught up with Bob Sunday afternoon, he was driving down from Corvallis, OR in his Porsche Cayenne and said I didn’t need to be there till Tuesday morning even though he was playing a Monday pro-am, what a boss.

Newport Beach CC is my favorite track on tour and probably in everyone’s top three. Jeff Purser and his crew bring in the strongest field, the largest crowds, and this year they did a great job with the weather also. It was absolutely perfect all week, if they could only work on the traffic this would be heaven. An expensive heaven though, while walking along PCH through Newport Beach one afternoon I noticed a gourmet restaurant for dogs and the car dealers advertised Teslas, Lamborginis, Porsche and a bunch of other foreign roadsters I couldn’t pronounce, spell or afford.

We got off to a good start in the pro-ams , playing well and having a good time with our groups. Standing on the eleventh green John said to me, “We really appreciate all your great tips.” I couldn’t resist so I replied, “I’ll appreciate yours also.” He looked confused but they did slip me a twenty after the round enough for appetizers out here. Both days we had a blast with groups. Bob does a great job entertaining the amateurs and lets me get involved as much as possible.

Newport Beach CC is a tight tree lined course with treacherous greens, reachable par fives, tricky cool breezes off the ocean and you have to golf your ball the last six holes on the front nine. You make your birdies on the first three holes on both nines then hang on till you reach the par five 15 and 18 where birdies are available. We weren’t able to get our birdies on those first three hole, our wedges weren’t cooperating leaving us long birdie putts and missing the green on occasion. Our wedges and putting are the two main areas that need work these days.

Three under the first day left us tied for 15^th or so and things looked mighty good going into the weekend. Todd’s girlfriend K.B. had a few of us over for dinner Friday night, nothing like a home cooked meal on the road. Usually I stay with some friends, Alan and Cathy Wells in Mission Viejo this week but she’s battling cancer, please keep her in your thoughts and prayers. They’re wonderful people and deeply missed the laughs we always had during the week. She’ll be back on her feet in no time, I’m sure.

The weekend wasn’t met to be. We couldn’t get the wedges close and putts just didn’t fall. A couple of 73s took us from fifteenth to the mid 50s and we watched everyone rush past us on the leader board. Bob gets a little feisty on the course, most of them do, but he never gives up and is ready for every shot, even after a double on the previous hole. He is the consummate professional on and off the course; it’s going to be an enjoyable year.

The hip is back. I walked nine holes Saturday; all eighteen Sunday then drove back to Palm Spring and spent five hours at the Blackjack table with Todd. I won a few dollars got about three hours sleep then drove to Phoenix where I’m working for Jimin Jeong this week on the LPGA. This all transpired while I was at the Blackjack table Sunday night via texts and I put in another eighteen Monday. The hip is definitely in good shape, a little stiff as I write this Tuesday morning but ready for another eighteen today.

The desert trip wasn’t firmed up until Saturday evening in Newport Beach and I never talked with my new boss until I set foot on the JW Marriot Desert Ridge Resort putting green Monday morning. Texting is all the Asian contingent relies on; talking on the phone is almost extinct. While I was earning my weekly percentage at the Palm Springs blackjack tables Sunday night Jimin was texting me my Monday morning schedule. She wasn’t playing but wanted me to work for her friend J. Y. something or other. We went nine holes and I still haven’t seen the cash yet for my efforts.

For that matter none of the caddies saw a lot of cash last week and the players donated all their winnings to their favorite charity. The inaugural RR Donnelly Founders Cup brought together the surviving LPGA mothers, a number of Hall of Famers, and donated the entire purse to charity. With the NFL millionaires striking for more millions it was nice to see the LPGA, probably the lowest paid professional athletes, unselfishly donating their week, their purse and their time for a worthy cause.

I was hesitant about working only for my weekly salary but it was a very rewarding experience. The crowds were extremely supportive, it was exciting bumping shoulders with Patty Sheehan, Betsy King, Nancy Lopez and the JW Marriott provided the caddies a nice pad for three or four days. We had to scramble for a room the first two nights but hanging out by the numerous resort pools, Jacuzzis, Tiki Bars, watching the celebrities roam the hallways and putting up with the coyotes yelping every morning about 4:30 outside our patio door wasn’t the normal caddy week. Brother Dan was back from his two month Asian swing; we shared a room and caught up on things.

The LPGA, RR Donnelly, JW Marriott and the tournament volunteers took very good care of us, I’m not sure we’ve ever received this nice of treatment anywhere. Transportation was at our call, player dining was at our service, the Marriott staff treated us like normal humans and the golf course was pristine, very walkable, and the conditions were ideal for a bunch of birdies which we didn’t find. Jimin struggled with a sore rib and a balky short game all week. Her facial expressions aren’t indicative of her humorous nature and we had a good time despite the poor scoring.

A new boss takes some adjusting time, especially when she’s a young Korean and there’s not much in common with an old fart like me. There wasn’t much conversation but we managed quite a few laughs and seemed to work well together. The hip held up nicely without the carts as a crutch and a lot of players and caddies said they didn’t recognize me without my limp. It’s so nice to be healthy again. I went 18 holes every day except Wednesday and even managed some dancing on St. Patty’s and Saturday night.

My old Senior Tour buddy, Johnny Mac, was working this week for Dana Bordner and we managed a little St. Patty’s Day trip through our old stomping grounds north of Phoenix in Cave Creek. We played the Senior Tour Tradition tournament at Desert Mountain for fifteen years and managed many a good time in the little community.

With all the development throughout the Arizona foothills it was nice to see Greasewood Flats and Harold’s Saloon hadn’t changed. The parking lots were cleaned up a bit, we didn’t have to squeeze among the ironwood trees and saguaro cactus but the atmosphere and clientele was still the same. My Packer hat, the only green I owned, received a few frowns at Harold’s. I forgot they were diehard Steeler fans but the owner, Danny, gracefully handled things and even bought us dinner after some slow service.

We missed the cut, three birdies in two days don’t do a lot of damage but she never gave up, tried on every shot, and we actually had our chances with nine holes to play. I think we missed five or six putts inside ten feet Saturday. We only needed a couple to fall for the cut but it was a bit of blessing in disguise. Jimin was able to rest her rib and I snuck up to Payson for an evening of song and dance with Wendy’s relatives.

Eight of us shared a small cabin, watched her cousin’s husband Wayne’s band hammer out some great R & R, C & W, with a smattering of blues at a local honky-tonk. The band member’s family and friends were the majority of the audience; fun was had by all, reminding everyone of a Big Chill weekend. Getting there was a bit difficult but the tournament transportation volunteers helped out tremendously, I really can’t pack them on the back enough for all their help.

We crashed at Todd’s again Sunday evening in Palm Springs on our way to LA. The laundry got done but the casino trip was less than profitable. The damn dealers teased me all night and kept me there till about 4:00 before they took all my rations. A quick nap then off to the City of Industry just east of LA. A new course so there will be a lot of young Asian girls ready to tee it up early Monday morning and I’ll be beside one of them.

Chirkinian – CBS Golf Ayatollah

Ayatollah, Maestro, The Best

Lance Barrow sat at the right hand of Frank and Chuck Will was directly to his left. Chuck was my buddy, Lance was a fellow Wisconsin Badger and they were my link to the almighty Chirkinian.

Lance Barrow sat at the right hand of Frank and Chuck Will was directly to his left. Chuck was my buddy, Lance was a fellow Wisconsin Badger and they were my link to the almighty Chirkinian.

One of my favorite pastimes was sitting in Chuck’s office, well, by his desk in the trailer; Frank had the only office, listening to his never ending tales about golf and life while he efficiently dealt with every CBS spotter, scorer and volunteer over the phone or in person. He organized the peons who reported all the on-course information to the broadcasting trucks helping the announcers look intelligent. Chuck affectionately referred to most folks, if he liked you, as “asshole”.

Frank’s office was at the end of the trailer directly behind Chuck’s desk and these extemporaneous gatherings were often squelched when the “Ayatollah” entered the trailer bellowing, “Alright you little phuquers (pronounce it phonetically) let’s get to work, we’ve got a show to produce!” We’d scatter, grab our headsets, if we were spotting and segue to our respective posts. Often times, before we went live Frank would hammer us a bit. “Remember, you phuquers out there on the course, you’re our eyes and ears. Keep it short, keep it simple and don’t phuque up, we’re depending on you! You may be the most important aspect of our crew; you make the announcers look intelligent.”

If I wasn’t working I’d hang around as long as possible outside Frank’s door hoping for some juicy tidbits and a little camaraderie with the CBS stars.

The pregame commentator meeting with Nance, McCord, Lundquist, Summerall, Venturi, Lance and Chuck was often accompanied by a large beverage cooler and was dismissed just before airtime. This gathering was usually a follow-up to the previous night’s dinner attended by all at the area’s finest restaurant and garnished with a number of vintage bottles. Frank worked his troops hard, rode them with a whip and fed them the finest oats, barley and water between broadcasts.

There were often some raised voices during the meeting, well maybe just one, and the broadcast was ready to be done the right way, the “Ayatollah’s”, when they marched from the meeting to their towers.

Most often I was working as a spotter on a back nine par three giving clubs and any other pertinent information to the broadcast truck that relayed it on to the announcers. Our radios were supposed to be tuned to only one frequency but in between groups I entertained myself listening to the broadcasting crew’s channel and Frank’s pulpit. Fire and brimstone belted over the private airwaves and my ears were often singed after a few minutes of Frank’s tirades. His point was made quickly, profanely and intelligently; the announcers knew exactly what they should be doing and most importantly what they shouldn’t. Nobody argued, nobody complained, everybody understood there was one way to do a golf broadcast, the Chirkinian way, and the CBS shows were the best in the business.

Frank was short in stature, long in charisma and controlled every ego on the broadcasting crew. He also made sure caddies, camera personnel, spotters, friends; whoever stumbled into the compound had a good meal every day. He had the power to toss anyone from the CBS lunch tent but never did. If you had some sort of a connection with CBS personnel you were a welcomed for lunch, a five course spread that would do any mom and pop diner proud.

He set the standards and made sure everyone met that mark. When McCord first started he was worried about screwing up, saying the wrong thing or making a fool of himself. He confided his doubts with Frank.

The Ayatollah spoke. “Don’t worry about a thing; just keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll let you know when you’re screwing up but until then keep talking; I’ll tell you when to shut up also.” He controlled every aspect of the broadcast and that was that.

He did things intelligently, irreverently, methodically, spontaneously, but always with the perfection of each broadcast in mind. No one or nothing stood between him and the absolute best CBS golf could offer the fan. He created a masterpiece every week and televised golf has transgressed since his retirement.

Sitting in the back row of the production trailer occasionally I experienced Frank in action. I haven’t been to many operas, ballets or Broadway musicals but I imagine Frank and the maestro shared unique qualities. He brought the best out of everyone in the orchestra no matter what he had to say or do during the show. It was like he magically controlled the TV monitors in front of him and was able to blend every camera shot into a wonderfully choreographed, rehearsed screenplay not the live broadcast he was actually presenting.

He barked commands into his headset while his eyes darted across the twenty plus camera monitors televising the absolute best shot at the appropriate time keeping his announcers at bay so the viewers could watch golf. “Shut up and show me golf, boys. That’s what everyone wants to see.” The Ayatollah was definitely a maestro.

Any golfer no matter what aptitude needs to work on the little things in golf. Like in life, if you handle the little issues as they come, the big picture, your score improves immensely. Working from the target, the hole, back to the tee is best for an amateur golfer trying to improve their score. We often don’t have time or take time for the little things; we’d rather bang the driver, pound balls on the range instead of working around the green on our chipping and putting.

Forty percent of a golfer’s shots occur within about thirty yards of the hole and if you would spend a little more time getting comfortable on the green, learning how to chip, pitch and putt from just off the green the 100 shooter would drop to 90 in a few months. A lot of your improvement may come from a better mental approach, try reading a few books, a suggestion, Putting Out of Your Mind by Bob Rotella and Golf is not a Game of Perfect. Like in life, a better mental attitude helps you deal with the challenges you face daily.

So much for my golf tips for the week, there’s not a lot to talk about because it’s a week off; actually two before we tee it up again in Newport Beach, CA. Since the Champions Tour schedule has been cut back we really don’t get going till the middle of April and getting into a rhythm will be difficult. From what I hear Bob is a streaky player, most players are, and professional golfers earn about 75% of their money in two or three four week periods during the year.

We started a little shaky but Bob has a pretty good record in the next four tournaments and he’s playing with Eduardo Romero, “El Gatto”, in the Legends. We’re both looking forward to this stretch; remember what I said about the positive mental attitude. Even my boss might benefit from Rotella’s thoughts just don’t know how I’m going to sneak a book into his locker. Ahh, the subtleties of caddying, here they come; I’m looking forward to it.

Brother Dan has been traveling the Far East, Thailand, Singapore, China and a few other Asian countries the last few months working 4-5 tournaments and enjoying the cultures. The LPGA is heading back for the States March 13th and there may be an open bag for Phoenix and Palm Springs right after Newport Beach. It’ll take some last minute finagling but I’d love to do it. I want to show off my new hip, attitude and caddy for those girls like I know I can. My brief stints over there the last few years haven’t been very impressive and I’m looking for a bit of redemption.

We snuck up to the cabin last week in Tampa for some BogeyPro and Metalation work; it’s nice to have something to do during the off weeks. The Accenture Match Play was interesting and my picks did fairly well but it’s nice to get away from the course for awhile. One more week off, then watch out Champions Tour for Bob Gilder and his sidekick.