The Newport Beach memories are great. Murph won his last tournament here in 1997 sinking an eighty foot putt on the ninth playoff hole, number seventeen, and their signature hole. Murph’s good friends, Alan and Kathy Wells, still put me up for the week and we discuss the good old days every night. The only excitement on seventeen this year was me tripping over Fred Funk’s bag Sunday and falling flat on my back. The crowd gave me a nice ovation after they realized I wasn’t hurt and the group discussed their most amazing caddie spills for the next few holes.

All the players love the layout, the wives spend most of their time at the neighboring Fashion Island Mall, and this year only one of the top thirty players missed the event. Jay Hass stayed home to watch his daughter’s team win their second state high school championship. It’s nice to see family gets in the way of golf, sometimes it’s the other way around, and that’s definitely not the way it should be.

It was a long week, starting with a pro-am Monday, late afternoon practice round Tuesday after Jim watched his son Kevin play in a Long Beach State college golf tournament, and two more pro-ams Wednesday and Thursday. Kevin is a sophomore and it was fun watching the two interact throughout the week. There was a lot of subtle needling, some heated discussions about Dad’s mental attitude, plus cheeseburgers and beers at the local sports bar, The Place, in Corona Del Mar.

The Roy family grew up in Syracuse, NY and their small town values are evident. Jim got a kick out of introducing Kevin to all the Champions Tour stars and we were actually late for our Thursday afternoon pro-am because they were chatting with Tom Watson on the putting green. Every time Kevin met someone the hat came off, a firm handshake was extended, and a “nice to meet you Mr. Watson” was heard.

Jim grew up on a course like Newport Beach, he loved the track, but is still a bit uncomfortable out here. The sharply sloping small Poannua greens gave us a few problems and we fired a 70 Friday while playing with Chein Soon Lu who was tied for the lead after shooting 65. Sitting on his borrowed Jeep’s tailgate after the round we dissected shots, strategy, and putts realizing just how close he is to being very competitive out here. As long as he doesn’t get down on himself and swings the club athletically we’ll be fine.

Saturday brought some nasty weather and a frustrating finish. Rains were predicted so tee times were moved up two hours but we were dumped on walking down the sixth fairway. There was hail mixed in and play was suspended for over an hour. In my 22 years I don’t think I’ve ever seen hail while playing, another first. We’ve been snowed out and cancelled for freezing temps but never hail.

We started off slow, two over after five holes, but got it back to two under through eleven then the wheels came off. We bogied four out of the last six holes with a birdie thrown in and finished one over for the tournament. It was a combination swing malfunctions, tentative putts, and not believing in himself and his golf swing. He was visibly frustrated, stormed off a couple of tee boxes mumbling and tensed up, not allowing his naturally fluid golf swing a chance to create a few birdies.

I’ve seen a lot worse behavior on the course and never expected a call from Jim later apologizing for his minor tantrums. Another first in my career, no pro has ever called with an apology, and we had a long talk about Jim’s potential. The gist of the conversation centered on his attitude and not having any fear on the course because his game is good enough to compete with anyone out here. After the round pep talks are a lot more effective than those fabricated proddings during the heat of the battle.

The apology was appreciated but not necessary and our talk cleared the air a bit. Jim came out Sunday ready to hit driver on every tee and his aggressive putting stroke produced some birdies. He fired a 68 but more importantly realized he belongs out here. Sitting in the parking lot discussing the week Jim realized one shot a round would have moved us close to top ten, and most importantly he knows he can do it, I could see it in his eyes.

Two weeks off and then down to the Dominican Republic with Jim. I did get a call from my old boss, Doug Tewell. He’s coming out of retirement for the Legends in Savannah, GA and maybe a few other tournaments. Maybe I’ll do some bouncing around later this year; it’s nice to have options.

In the late 90’s the Doral Resort and Spa owners brought in Ray Floyd to toughen up the layout and put some teeth in the Blue Monster. He followed their orders, added some bunkers, tee boxes, and created some doglegs to challenge the tour players. After some sniveling and whining the course was softened again and Raymond took some unnecessary criticism for ruining the Blue Monster. He was only following orders and the pampered PGA Tour players couldn’t handle the challenge.

Miami has grown up around the resort and it’s not the type of neighborhood you want to hang around. You show up, caddy, and get back to your room before dark. Tucked in behind those guarded gates is a resort only the rich can enjoy and they have for years. They take good care of us behind the walls but after you leave you’re on your own. Luckily no one has lost a life and only one caddy has been shot over the years.

Back to the course, if the wind doesn’t blow Doral is a puppy. The winning score the last two years has been around twenty under, but I guess what do you expect from the “world’s top players” – that’s questionable with the convoluted ranking system. The world rankings leave out a lot of the top American players because there is more weight given to a win on foreign tours among lesser players than competing with the top players over here. Go down the list, you’ll find a lot of good American players left out of the CA Championship taking the week off or playing in Puerto Rico.

These days the only challenge on the Blue Monster is the par three thirteenth and the signature hole eighteen. They both play significantly over par for the week and if you can manage a couple over on each hole you’ve passed a few players. The rest of the course has a couple of drivable par fours, a collection of par fives that are all reachable with the right wind, and the fairways are wide enough to handle today’s long, erratic tee shots. If they don’t grow the Bermuda rough expect a birdie fest.

It seems like everybody is a favorite here so I’m going to only pick a couple of long shots. Watch out for Alviro Quiros, Scott Verplank, a great wind player from Oklahoma, and Anthony Kim this week. Spiderman has run out of energy, Steve Stricker could challenge but may be a bit rusty, and Ian Poulter is still basking in his first win. My absolute favorite is Paul Casey, he’s ready to win.

We’ve also had a few guys who played briefly on the PGA Tour and then went into other businesses. Jim Ahern beat Hale Irwin in a playoff; who had ever heard of Jim before then. But only once has a lifelong amateur qualified for the Champions Tour and made a career of it. Jay Sigel, two time U.S Amateur champion and long time Walker Cup member has established himself on the tour over the last fifteen years.

Now there’s a new amateur, Jim Roy, and it looks like he’s going to do some damage. He called me Monday morning, woke me from my sleep somewhere around Chattanooga, and confirmed he wanted me on the bag. His excitement and enthusiasm is contagious, just the thing I need to get me out of this caddy funk. His accolades aren’t the size of Sigel’s but he can putt with the best of them. He still plays those little kid games on the putting green like we all used too when we were growing up.

He imagines himself standing on the seventeenth tee box with a three shot lead over Watson and Couples on Sunday afternoon. It’s contagious and he’s rubbing off on me. We’re going to have a lot of fun and make some money out here. Once he gets comfortable, plays in the last few groups on the weekend a couple of times, Langer, Watson, Haas and the boys will have to pay attention.

You never know what will happen in golf. This looks like it’s going to be fun to follow and standing next to an inexperienced rookie will be a new challenge for me. We’re in Newport Beach this week and he says the course reminds him of the one he grew up on back in Syracuse, NY. About every other hole during the Monday pro-am he gazed out over the layout and sighed, “God, I love this course. We’re going to have a great week.”

There’s a look in his eye you can’t quite explain, part child enthusiasm and another part grizzled determination, I think. That combination is going to suit him well out here. Now, if his caddy can lead him around these new tracks, we’ll be in good shape. I’ve been around this course too many times to remember and garnered a win with Murph in 1997 after a nine hole playoff with Jay Sigel. A couple of pro-ams and a practice round will be just the tune up Jim needs.

Keep an eye on him it’s going to be interesting.

The Champions Tour has been playing here for four years and I worked the first event in 2007. It’s a rather short challenging track with difficult winds, hard fast fairways, and treacherous Bermuda greens. With good tee balls all the par fives are reachable so the guys usually score fairly low. I walked the course finishing just after noon and waited for Jim. It was nice sitting in the lot with a job instead of searching for one.

There was a junior pro-am on the back side so we played a quick front nine. We got to know each other a bit, Jim’s buddy “Killer” tagged along, and we had a good time. First impressions mean a lot. Jim was a good guy and could play; this was going to be a good week and something for the future. During the pro-am Wednesday Jim shot a smooth 68 with a double bogey and we laid out our plans for the week. He was great with the amateurs and everyone had a good old time.

I didn’t realize Jim’s story was that big until Dave Kindred, Golf Digest writer and new inductee into the Golf Writer’s Hall of Fame showed up Thursday asking questions and following us around. There was a picture shoot for the magazine article that will be published in May. This is the first time an amateur has had full time exemption on the Champions Tour and Jim had a lot of Syracuse friends following him along with well wishers who had heard about his feat.

We were the first group off the back side on Friday with another couple of unknowns but we had a rather nice crowd. There was an early birdie on eleven, a stupid bogey on twelve, then he made a bomb on the par three fourteenth. He seemed to have things under control and we were working well together making the turn at two under. After the earth stood still for Tiger’s announcement at 11:00 the crowd rejoined us and I noticed Dave Kindred following along jotting notes; it was time to put on a show.

Jim hit a perfect drive on the par five first hole, knocked his trusty rescue club just short of the green leaving a perfect pitch shot across the Bermuda. Standing along the ropes waiting for our partners to play their third shots we noticed a young boy with his parents. I walked up whispered, “Guess a number between 2 and 4.”

He looked quizzically at me and his mom nudged him. “Between 2 and 4” she said. He responded with a giggle, “Oh, three.” I handed him Jim’s used ball and a couple minutes later Jim pitched in for eagle. Crossing the sixth fairway, a reachable par five we bumped into the kid and his parents again, chatted a bit and proceeded to knock our ball pin high short of the green in two. Again, with the kid standing directly across the green, Jim made another chip shot for three. He took the ball from the cup signed it and handed it to the kid. Talking with reporters after the round Jim introduced his good luck charm to the crowd and told him to be here tomorrow.

Every Friday night there is a Champions Tour fellowship meeting. Church on the move without the church stuff and Bernhard Langer invited everyone over to his home for dinner. The double gated community was very impressive, the Langer’s were gracious hosts, and we stuffed ourselves on flounder, pasta, chicken, and dessert table filled with goodies. There’s a lot more camaraderie on the Champions Tour among players and caddies, everyone had a great time.

We were six under, two shots out of the lead and in the next to the last group Saturday with Tim Simpson and Mike Reid. I could tell Jim was nervous, tried to calm him a bit but our good luck charm didn’t show up and we struggled shooting 73. It’s a learning curve and you have to be in the position a few times before you get comfortable. I have a feeling he’s going to be in position quite a few times before the year is done.

Saturday Jim was asking questions about the next tournament in Newport Beach, wondering about the course, and then asked who I was working for. When I told him nobody he offered me the job and I quickly accepted. I think this is going to be a good match, a little bit of a challenge, and a lot of fun. We shot even par on the weekend finished six under and made about $10,000, not bad for an amateur’s second tournament.

We’ll see, another caddy thought he had the job lined up but Jim said he never made a commitment. There may be a bit of a riff in the parking lot next week but for right now I have the job and it’s a good feeling.

The Thunderbirds, majestically roaming the course in pants only Ian Poulter can appreciate, have created a social event everyone wants to attend. Raucous ASU students, corporate execs, sorority coeds, cowboys, and families are all golf fans this week. When Johnny Miller was destroying Phoenix Country Club and Evel Knievel parked his “Chuckles” eighteen wheeler by the lake it was all about golf. In fact, now, the tables are turned and we spend a lot of time watching the gallery between shots. Players and caddies don’t talk, watch, or think much about golf this week, they focus on the fans; the stories in the caddy wagon and locker room are mostly about the goings on outside the ropes.

The cool, crisp, oft-times frost delayed morning tee times were welcomed after intoxicating evenings at Greasewood Flats, Eli’s Sports Bar & Grill, Downside Risk, Teepee Tap Room, and of course The Nest with Duck Soup. The putting green hillside overlooking the Nest was often lined with players and caddies when Sam Irwin fired up the band, the tables were turned, it was our turn to watch the crowd. Those high heels prancing around all day weren’t there for golf and we appreciated the distraction.

There were rumors about all sorts of risqué behavior around the Nest but nothing was ever officially documented. Kind of like UFO sightings, you notice something in the night, not quite sure what it is, but there were some unique indentations on the greens and fairways the next day. Someone or something had left their mark the night before; we could only speculate, go about our business and try to put a good read on the putt. Concentration, focusing on the shot at hand, was always difficult at Scottsdale’s TPC.    

Only two par threes on tour worry you before the round, the 17^th at TPC Sawgrass for strategic purposes and the 16^th here for acoustic reasons. If you’re teeing off late the crowd starts churning early, their chants and roars reverberate over the practice tee, and everyone questions the finishing groups. “How’s the crowd on 16? Are they behaving? How long is the back up?” Many times players would back off shots during their round while sixteen was erupting; the short par three affected you throughout the day, not only when you were standing on the tee box.   

Usually players and caddies want to know wind conditions, firmness of green, pin placement, but the sixteenth amphitheatre forces a player’s mind to focus on one thing – the middle of the green – and hopefully two putting then slinking quietly to the seventeenth tee.

The local favorites Mark Calcavecchia, Billy Mayfair, Phil, Tom Lehman, and Andrew Magee feed off the crowd’s energy while others have fought the party atmosphere over the years. Most guys have adjusted dawning ear plugs, blinders, ASU caps and sweatshirts, before they enter the tunnel, but nothing is more critical than hitting that green, making par, and getting the heck out of there.

There have been sixteen aces at the Phoenix Open, seven at sixteen, and Tiger’s 1997 hole-in-one produced the largest roar ever heard on a golf course. Omar Uresti and his brother Hoss paired with Tiger said it “physically shook them”, Fluff just shakes his head when you ask about it, and Andy North announcing on the front side at the time said it was deafening all the way over there.

Justin Leonard bird saluted the 16^th gallery and David Duval had an unfortunate incident with some fans but over the years the raucous gallery has been manageable. Usually we’re admiring the scintillating beauties and don’t spend a lot of time controlling the crowd. A couple of cowboys, following Justin’s lead, flipped off a caddy once when he was politely trying to stop them. The caddy, patience probably worn thin by a long intoxicating desert night, started under the ropes after the culprits but cooler heads prevailed and the players coaxed him back inside.

Moving the rock at thirteen, Tiger created an enormous reaction also, not among the fans but the players and caddies. Only a few mentioned cheating but there were many references to special attention and “only he could get away with that.” The size of his crowd allowed him the opportunity, no other player’s gallery was large enough to move a boulder — sorry, I mean, loose impediment.     

The Weiskopf – Moorish layout has created some great golf, especially that unique collection of finishing holes. Andrew Magee aced seventeen one year, the only par four hole-in-one in PGA Tour history, and three time winner (Palmer and Littler also won three) Calc destroyed the design in 2001 with 32 birdies and a 28 under score, shooting one of the three 60s in tournament history. Roars can be heard all over the course but usually emanate from fifteen through eighteen and are just as distinctive as those at Augusta. The type of roar telling exactly what is going on where.

In 1990 Tom Pernice made double eagle on fifteen, Doug Tewell’s caddy dropped his yardage book in a port-o-john behind the same tee box. It had a decent lie, was easily retrieved, but the odor kept player and caddy apart down the stretch. Anything can happen on those last four holes, each provides a chance for heroism or disaster and you have to be prepared, especially when you walk onto the sixteenth tee. 

A party with a golf tournament going on, NASCAR invades the PGA Tour, whatever you want to call it, most players and caddies have adapted to the atmosphere plus the Thunderbirds make it exceptional for all. Seventy-five years is a long time, and for awhile it looked like the crowds may get out of hand, they should be commended for guiding the Waste Management Open through all the transitions. The little “Nest” tent next to the putting green now encompasses a few football fields across the street; daily crowds exceed other tournaments weekly figures yet maintain their golf decorum for the most part; and, the top players still show up looking forward to the week.

We couldn’t handle this environment every week, once every February it’s a very special place on the PGA Tour, and creates enough stories for the rest of the year. A lot of practice range conversation starts, “Remember that time in Phoenix? …”. Thanks for all the memories and hospitality.

Tiger is tucked away in Hattiesburg, MS trying to get his shaft under control. Over the years we’ve watched him trying to control many wayward drives. The flex in your driver shaft often determines how well you control your tee shots. Tiger’s recent flex point control issue has more serious implications on his life, children, and marriage. Who knew two months ago we would be waiting his return while he regained flex point control at Pine Grove Institute instead of a golf testing center in Carlsbad, CA?

He’s maintaining, “Sex addiction”. Isn’t that the celebrity cover-up for cheating on the side? If we pled “sex addiction” when our flex point landed in the wrong fairway too many times I think we would be politely escorted from the course without any mulligans. Supposedly men think about sex every seven seconds, aren’t we all a bit obsessed with the subject? Control is the operative word, something Tiger has always espoused on the course, but apparently not in his personal life. When he returns, the week will need to be all about control, and there aren’t many places on tour capable of handling the media onslaught.

Augusta, many folks believe these hallowed grounds will be his mea culpa week. The membership is guarded, avoiding publicity whenever possible, and only wants recognition for their course and tournament. They could definitely protect him but do they want too? Tiger, I’m sure, wants to play the Masters because it’s the first step toward a possible Grand Slam. The venues this year offer a great opportunity for Tiger, accomplishing Bobby Jones’ singular feat definitely crosses his mind.

The Augusta press room would be the idyllic setting, and most of the world’s press is already here, but the green jackets don’t like circuses. It’s very prim and proper on the old tree nursery grounds, stoic may be a better word, and this will be a fiasco. Uh-Uh, not here as the first tournament back in the spotlight, maybe the second or third.

Between now and then, what is there about eight or nine tournaments? He doesn’t play many events on the West Coast, and after AT&T Pebble Beach Pro-am significantly shortened the field hoping to get Tiger, he was supposed to be on the Monterrey Peninsula. The paparazzi, celebrities, and circus atmosphere is already present, it would be perfect, plus one of his sponsors, AT&T, could run interference. He not only screwed those fourteen women, Tiger left about thirty pros and sixty amateurs without a tee time in a tournament they’ve been playing in for years.

Thanks Tiger. He won’t be here either to explain his sex addiction then play a little golf. They bent ass over backwards for him, just for an appearance, and told the other dedicated players, “Thanks for your support over the years, we don’t need you this year, Tiger’s coming in your place.” No he’s not; he has mandatory tee times at Pine Grove therapy sessions.

Let’s see, Phoenix, nope. Already moved boulders (loose impediments) and aced the sixteenth, creating the loudest applause ever heard at a PGA event. He doesn’t need them anymore, and hasn’t been there since 1997, I think.

Speaking of thinking let me see if I can step in Tiger’s brain while he evaluates his potential return date.

Accenture dropped me from their advertising program so the World Match Play tournament doesn’t require an appearance, nor do they want me right now. Ties have been severed no reason to reopen wounds while there’s a tournament going on. Let the boys knock each other around at an event I usually dominate then send me the TV ratings and let me know what you think. It’s a five day event; I’d have to be there Monday or Tuesday for the press conferences. Sorry I don’t think I can spend all week at a tournament not labeled a Major.

Moving to Florida Tampa is out; Doral is a possibility since it’s no longer a Ford event infringing on my Buick ties. Oh, that’s right Buick isn’t around anymore either. Where have all my sponsors gone? Why aren’t they supporting me during my fight with this terrible, life shattering, addiction? Don’t folks usually help a person fight physical or psychological addictions? Why is nobody in my corner?

Arnie, I need you Arnie? Bayhill is a bastion and AP controls everything. This might make a little sense here. It’s close to home; I can knock off press conferences a little bit each day. Maybe Arnie can transport me back and forth in his helicopter? Sympathetic, Arnold, quite the swashbuckler in his day without the media attention, may understand my “sex addiction” and help me through this ordeal.

Okay, here’s the setup for the week at Bayhill. Early Monday morning I’ll have a press conference, 7:00am would be ideal because the media doesn’t keep early hours. A highly structured, controlled hour where I read from a prepared statement, no questions from anyone, then leave my doctors and therapists at the podium discussing the progress I made at Pine Grove. I can sneak out the back while the press is sequestered.

TW: “Hey Arnie, can I hitch a ride home. I’ve done enough for the public today.
Hibernating at home inside Isleworth’s gates is about as protected as it gets.”

TW: “Hey Arnie, how, about getting those news helicopters out of the air?”

AP: “Sorry, Tiger there’s only so much I can do.”

Tuesday let’s have another press conference like the politicians. You know, one of those town hall settings where Obama only answers scripted questions from the audience. They ask questions our camp prepares and I already have the answers. This should make me look real good, poised, relaxed, like I’m ready to get on with my life. I’ll look adoring to the public again; maybe have Mom sitting by my side, Elin won’t be ready for that seat yet.

I should be out of there by eight and back to Isleworth for some practice. This first tournament back at Bayhill is looking good, making me look good, and I really don’t have to divulge that much to the public. I’m still protecting my life, not letting anyone in, but opening up just enough. Maybe the sponsors will filter back.

Wednesday the pro-am will be set up as usual, teeing off first with the top corporate sponsors but the sea of volunteer guards will separate the gallery from Tiger wherever he walks. Any trite remarks from a spectator will result in immediate expulsion from the tournament. Security will be presidential Secret Service level with the pro-am guests sworn to conversations about sports, politics, religion, business, etc., not the normal stuff guys talk about while playing golf. Remember, I’m rehabilitating and can’t talk about those things for awhile.

Wow, that was fun being Tiger’s brain for a bit. Now if I could crawl inside his………never mind.

Yep, Bayhill looks like the best spot. It’s two weeks before the Masters and provides all the control Tiger needs. Control is going to be the operative word the rest of his life. Not only controlling his shots on the course, but the shots from the gallery, the press, the kids, and his adoring public. The sooner he handles the shots from outside the ropes, I think, the better off everyone will be.

With Arnold by his side at Bayhill, a grandfatherly, highly respected sports celebrity everyone recognizes and appreciates, Tiger will get through that first week. He’ll take some body blows but with Arnold in his corner the bruising won’t be bad. Hopefully Arnold’s down home charm and charisma rubs off a bit, Tiger taking a few lessons from the King, learning a bit more about life and how to treat people. Golf fans need you and you need us. None of us are bulletproof Tiger, you’ll be better off once you accept this.

The crew is cruising the West Coast without me but I’ve been trying to keep in touch with a few of my buddies. Without El Tigre the tour has had to create some more excitement and they aren’t doing it on the course.

Coming down the stretch the last three weeks with a chance to win the tournament three non-winners Bubba Watson, Tim Clark, and Michael Sim all chose to lay up on par fives essentially playing for second and the money, not the win. Phil or Tiger wouldn’t have given a thought to the lay up area. Thanks for some boring golf and yesterday’s winner Ben Crane didn’t even know he won the tournament, his caddy had to tell him. Don’t know about you guys but I love that spontaneous celebration when the putt drops.

The only excitement has been off the course, kind of like what NASCAR does to draw attention to their sport. It seems like some driver is always bad mouthing another about rules infractions so the PGA Tour thought they’d try it. Scott McCarron, a member of the Tour Policy Board, publicly accused Phil of cheating, using wedges that are technically legal but not within the spirit of the game. It’s gone back and forth with the media stirring the pot almost antagonizing Phil to action. Hopefully we’ll get back to some exciting golf inside the ropes soon.

I’m not going to try to explain the groove controversy, why certain wedges are illegal and the others have been grandfathered in, because I don’t quite understand the process and implications myself. This mudslinging may alienate an already edgy golfing public who has been pounced on the last few months. The caddies I’ve talked to definitely indicate the crowds are down, the excitement isn’t there, and they don’t see it getting better soon. As much as every body hates to admit it the PGA Tour isn’t going to be the same without you know who.

This week the tour is at Riviera with the strongest field of the year and a small cramped locker room. McCarron and Mickelson share the same row of lockers, watch out for some fireworks. Remember Scott carries a long putter — hmm, didn’t players insinuate that was stretching the rules years ago — and may have to use it in self defense if Lefty gets feisty. Hopefully NASCAR won’t be that big of influence, but maybe a fight in the locker room is just what the tour needs to get the blood flowing again.

I’m heading for Florida and the Champions Tour next week for some sun, networking, and job hunting. Not much else going on but did Tweet a bit with Daly. He’s kind of lost soul, I offered my services, and he said he’d keep in touch. Many players have lost weight and had trouble regaining their form, give John time he’ll be fine.

Take care.

Mark

Our Buddy Steve

San Diego may be a top tourist destination with Torrey Pines perched high on the public course list but it’s not a favorite stop for caddies. Over the years it’s been a tough walk in sloppy conditions and the temperature can be 40 degrees with howling winds along the South course coast while sunny and warm on the North course. It’s a tough place to pull a club and find a sprinkler head, they never bothered putting numbers on the heads and the circling winds, heavy air, and subtle elevation changes leave many Titleists great distances from the target.

Foreign caddies often skipped this venue because the INS agents would visit Torrey Pine checking work visas and a few loopers lacking proper papers spent some time at the CrossBar Motel. Rumor has it some disgruntled local caddies phoned immigration prior to the tournament.

Two courses mean an extra day of work for most caddies and flying in was always a problem. It’s one of the worst airport for landings with a steep descent over the city and quick sharply braking stop on a short runway. A few times planes loaded with players and caddies have come in “hot” with pillow tucked between their legs, head buried in the pillow, and emergency equipment greeting them. If they had to fly in some guys would skip this event.

The course prior to the U.S. Open was usually in suspect shape at best, creating some unsightly fairway lies and more angst among the caddie ranks. It’s tough enough to pull a club in pristine conditions but when you factor in the winds, temperature, heavy air, elevation change, questionable yardage markers and then your ball is sitting in a rut, you are SOL. Watch this week you’ll see a lot of balls over the green or falling way short, many more than your average tour stop.

Solano Beach just north is caddie habitat area but heavy hearts will be roaming the streets and the fairways. A couple years ago Steve Duplantis, a.k.a. Teflon, one of the true caddy personalities, walked off a curb and was immediately struck and killed by a local cab. The boys will be toasting “Teflon”, telling his zany stories when he worked for Furyk and Rich Beem, and wishing they were half the caddy he was without the extreme night life. Steve always left his yardage book and visor in the bag because he never knew where he’d end up that night, or if he’d make the next day’s tee time. Showing up on the second or third hole, he’d take the bag from the substitute caddy, keep his job and no misbehavior ever stuck, thus the nickname. Here’s to ya, you were a legend!

After the jump, see Mark’s tournament predictions for this week!

Tournament Predictions by Mark Huber and Ilyas Patel

Favorites:

Justin Rose- Taking Phil and Tiger out of the running as they are the favorites just about every week, Justin Rose is my favorite this week. This being a Ryder Cup year I think the Europeans will have a strong showing at the marquee venues on the PGA Tour. Rose always has all aspects of the game and has played solid at tough courses. Look for him to be at the top of the leader board going into Sunday. I have always liked his game and I think he could be a front runner in this tournament. (IP)

Pat Perez - Grew up in Southern California, knows the course like his back yard and has the length to conquer the South. Just can’t let him boil over on the North if he makes to many pars.(MH)

Brandt Snedeker- Brandt has some tough skin the way he bounced back after the Masters fiasco and missing that putt to get into the final field of the Fed Ex cup tournament. I think he is due to a have a dominating performance. The guy is too good and too consistent to not be winning more on the tour. Look for Brandt to be in contention all weekend.(IP)

Darkhorses:

Michael Allen - An old California boy playing well even at 50. Great putter, good course management, and works well with his caddy, Mike Marone. Dark horse but aging gracefully, he’ll make good stud material one of these days.(MH)

Andres Romero- This Argentine player often gets forgotten by golf fans. Maybe it has to do with his demeanor or unflashy style and game, but this guy can flat out play. He is confident and seems to have a quiet confidence about himself. If he can be near the top of the leader board come Saturday, watch out. (IP)

Blake Adams - Old rookie off the Nationwide Tour. Very consistent, long and straight off the tee, even keel, and can putt a bit. Watched Blake play last year a couple of times, he finished in top ten on the Nationwide without winning an event. (MH)

Rickie Fowler- The California Kid is coming home! Rickie has had a rough start to his rookie season, missing the cut in Hawaii and at the Bob Hope. But I think the home cooking and the California support is going to fuel this guy into contention. If he can play decent golf the first two days and make the cut, he is going to be fearless on Saturday and Sunday. The kid can roll the ball real well and has loads of confidence. If Rickie is around Saturday, the field better watch out.(IP)

One More Thought - John Daly, he’s here and he’s back. He can do some damage on this track. (MH)

Thanks for Coming:

Ricky Barnes- Just a whole lot of unrealized potential……you hope to see him turn it around but its like those weekend movies on TBS, you seen them so many times you know what’s going to happen the next week. (IP)

Charles Howell III- See Ricky Barnes. (IP)

Thanks for stopping by, and please leave comments…and remember John Daly is here anything can happen with him………………….Mark

Boers and Bernstein, or as my college educated daughter calls them “Boring and Beefcakes”, were bad mouthing Brett Favre earlier this week. Listening for ten or fifteen minutes because that’s all I can handle, I realized their opinion was probably based on media hype, anti-Packer/Viking  sentiment, a tinge of jealousy, and the jaded view from their soapbox because they never step down among us. Their opinion is all that matters, they love to hear themselves talk.

Someone – you all know that someone—once said, “You can learn a lot about a man’s personality during a round of golf.”  Apparently, they haven’t played much golf with Brett, and I’m hazarding a guess they never will. I’ve been in Brett’s foursome many times over the years.  A Bear fan when we first met, I told him so on the first tee and he put his arm around me as we walked down the fairway.

 “Keep an eye on me,” he said. “I need all the help I can get with this game.” He didn’t hang with the corporate execs in the group, or the pro, Bob Murphy, Brett spent most of his time with the caddies that day.  We were in New Jersey, Upper Monclair CC, for the Cadillac NFL Classic and Brett was one of the head liners back in the mid 90’s. He was hanging with the caddies in his jeans and nasty ol’ baseball cap.

Like I said, I was a Bear fan but my daughter Cassie, either side of ten at the time, was a die-hard Packer fan, she knew the possible draft choices each year and could have been Ron Wolf’s right hand consultant back then. Standing on the second tee next to Brett I asked, “If I can get my daughter on the phone, would you mind talking with her?”

“I’d love too, what’s her name?” Over the years only Bill Murray has acquiesced like Brett. In the fourth fairway we had a wait and I phoned Cass, “Hey Cass, someone wants to talk with you.”

Brett was sitting next to me in the cart, grabbed the phone then walked into the trees. The ten minute conversation went like this:

“Hey Cass, this is Brett. (There’s a cousin Brett)……..No, this is Brett Favre………. No, really this is Brett Favre.” His grin was evident; he was having a good time, and told everyone to hit their shots while he finished the conversation. They talked about school, crazy pants day, and stupid kids stuff; I didn’t overhear one word about football. My normally outgoing daughter was speechless after the conversation and Brett had a great time, naturally. It wasn’t forced, there were no cameras, and he didn’t have to do it; Brett was having fun.

There was no conversation about football or Brett Favre during the round. We talked about giggin’ frogs, shootin’ turtles, fishing, and hunting deer. Whenever the paparazzi came around he grabbed a caddy for the photo shoot and there wasn’t an autograph seeker, except the professionals, ignored. He didn’t understand the attention but he definitely appreciated it.

His golf was ugly, an 18 handicap at best, but he hit it a long ways once in awhile. In between there was always some good ol’ boy conversation. Murph talked about Brett and his fellow NFLers drinking beer like water and shooting pool till the wee hours back at the host hotel. “Man, they drink more than you caddies,” Murph announced.

That was just before Brett’s Vicadin abuse issues went public, baring his “coonass” to the public. “Maybe that’s why none of us can play this damn game,” Brett shouted back. I’m not sure he finished a hole that day but had a good time despite his lack of talent. Walking off the eighteenth green he handed me his phone number. “Keep in touch, let me know if I can do something for ya’.”  In 1992 I was in the stands during the Steelers game at County Stadium, when the announcer couldn’t pronounce his name subbing for “The Magic Man” Don Majkowski, now he seemed like a high school buddy.

We kept in touch, bumped into each other at a couple of tournaments every year, and he got Cass and I tickets to a Bear-Packer game one year. The plan was to meet Brett’s wife Deanne, pick up the tickets then do a little tail gaiting but for some reason things got screwed up. Sitting in Lambeau parking lot without tickets I explained our plight to a security guard who escorted me to the executive offices, introduced me to Diane behind the desk, and I explained the situation. Any other organization would have had me lassoed and escorted from the premises into a padded cell.

She immediately phoned Deanne who said Brett had the tickets. After a couple of quick calls Brett appeared in the front office with two tickets. We chatted briefly, I immediately became a Packer fan after such royal treatment, and Cassie had the time of her life, Cheesehead perched on her noggin, bantering with the Bear fans behind her throughout the game. It was all good natured fun and wouldn’t have been possible without Brett’s help.

A few years passed, Brett had some rocky times off the course, but whenever we hooked up that greasy old baseball cap was still stinking, his baggy shorts were wrinkled, and his golf game was improving. He told me in Memphis, “When I quit drinking, I had to find something to do. I spent more time at the range than I ever did at the bar.” He said his handicap was a four; I called bul%#&it and didn’t believe him until we played in Birmingham a year later.

We had a nice pro-am foursome at Greystone during the 2000 Champions Tour Bruno’s Memorial Classic. Brett was a regular participant every year and drew quite a crowd. Our group, Raymond Floyd, Al Del Greco, and Vince Gill had a combined handicap of eight and things got quite competitive among the boys. The haggling, harassing, haranguing, and home boy humor started on the first tee and never let up. They were ruthless but kept it fairly clean because there were children in the crowd. Brett was holding his own with the sticks, Al was better than scratch and Vince was a four also, and they were all scratch at bantering.

Every shot there was some mud slung and it was tough to get a “good shot” from your teammates. On the fifth hole, a long sweeping dogleg right par five with a creek stretching across the fairway about 320 yards from the tee and extending down the right side of the layup area, Brett pulled out driver after everyone had laid up short of the creek. During each layup shot he mumbled something, rhymes with fussy, just loud enough for us to hear.

Vince yelled, “Wadda ya doin man? You’ll knock that in the crick.”

“I ain’ knockin’ it in, I’m taking it over the right trees and over the crick. Watch this boys-s-s.” Brett sniped back. This was going to be fun no matter what the outcome.

Brett winked at Raymond and me, spat a slew of Skoal, and started a serious waggle eyeing up his challenge. He had to get the ball up quick and carry it some 350 yards for a safe landing. Daly would have been proud of the backswing, his 5W30 hat stayed in place somehow, and we were all in awe but only the gallery acknowledged Brett’s feat. After he unwound he chirped, “Get you somma dat, Vince!”

The ball not only carried the first part of the ditch, it ended up past the layup extension, and Brett had nine iron for his second shot. The crowd was oohhing and awing but his partners were ribbing him all the way down the fairway. “Still gotta make a putt country boy,” Vince chided.

Brett bladed his nine iron, chipped up, and three putted for bogey never hearing the end of it the rest of the round. Those big hands of his (Jordan’s are the only one’s bigger) sometimes lose a little touch around the green. Luckily we started on the back side so there were only four holes left. The steam was rising, it got awful quiet but there was no explosion. Deanne showed up, consoled her hubby who spent the rest of the round with the gallery, partly to sign autographs, mostly to avoid the wrath of Vince and Al. They were relentless.

Whenever we’ve been on the course it’s been fun, it’s been natural, there’s been no pretentiousness. His stardom never reached the fairways, only that good natured country boy from Kiln, MS. I’m not quite sure who Boers and Bernstien were talking about the other day.

Ron Wolf must have played some golf with Brett before he traded for him. He understood the character, competitiveness, charm, and athletic talent of the 1991 33^rd draft choice from Southern Miss that helped rebuild the Packers. Maybe a few more folks should play golf with someone before they spout off about them.

He's Even Skinnier Now

John Daly is back: Lean & Mean Outside, Big Heart Inside

They wouldn’t let him in the Hawaiian Open pro-am party Tuesday night because nobody recognized him. He’s lost over a hundred pounds and rededicated himself, hopefully John sticks to it. He’s on his last leg, and at 44 years old his competitive years are not many. Watching the Hawaiian Open’s first two rounds made me realize what a draw JD is.

The Golf Channel treated him like royalty while promoting their new show “Being John Daly”. They followed every shot Friday afternoon and intertwined some revealing interviews with Frank Nobilo. Too bad there were no shots to follow over the weekend. John has burned a lot of bridges and it is hard telling when we’ll see him again.

John Daly is an enigma. He’s been a Nascar driver looking for a crash. He puzzles friends, family, fellow PGA Tour members, corporate sponsors, and tournament officials. Since 1991 he’s never made a splash it’s always been a tidal wave. The press usually blows his personal life out of proportion but if you’re John Daly you pick up the pieces and move on. We all remember the 1991 PGA, the shivering J.D. walking off the course during the U.S. Open at Pinehurst, and the myriad of stories, pictures, and exaggerations about his off course exploits.

Caddying on the PGA Tour for twenty years gave me an inside look at John Daly, the human being. He’s likeable, moody, charismatic, self-destructive, talented, obsessive-compulsive, fascinating; he’s a combination of traits occupying opposite ends of the spectrum, there’s not much in the middle. He won the 1991 PGA after an all night drive from Arkansas and “Squeaky” Medlin on the bag, a caddy he’d never met. He was ninth alternate and never expected to play. The common golf fan embraced him and the stodgy golf elite shuddered. He drew larger crowds, pre-Tiger, than anyone else.

John just completed this year’s first round at Waialae CC, fired a 73, and went on to miss the cut. The course is short and tight, not really designed for John’s game, but he was there bringing his golf and engaging persona back to the galleries. He has a new woman in his life, Onna, who cracks the whip, takes care of his business affairs keeping him on the straight and narrower off the course. She’s keeping him on an even keel but sometimes it is hard for someone to play outside their personality.

John’s life has reflected his golf game, all or nothing. There’s no in between, but there is a large, caring heart just below those massive shoulders. He loves people, takes care of his friends and family, and doesn’t really care what the public thinks as long as he feels he’s doing the right thing. He’s created some extremely sticky situations over the years but always accepted the blame, faced the press straight away, and owned up to the consequences, unlike some other sports personalities these days.

He’s a soft spoken good ol’ boy who enjoys life’s extremes. Jeans and t-shirts, cut-offs and tank tops, Jack Daniels and diet Cokes, Dallas Cowboy games in Jerry Jones’ box, winning majors and walking off smaller venues mid-round, drinks at watering holes and dinners with Dubai royalty; there hasn’t been much in-between over the years, he’s loveable to all walks of life. John has let people down but always tried to make it up to them some way or another; he’s attached to his fans, not removed like most of today’s sports heroes.

At the 2008 Bayhill tournament hosted by Arnold Palmer J.D. had a rough week. His professional golf life was spiraling downward at the time and eventually Tim Finchem suspended John for six months. He’s been out of the limelight for awhile and on the surface appears a changed man; hopefully he hasn’t altered his big heart. He told Frank Nobilo during an interview last Wednesday in Hawaii, “As long as I don’t change my heart, I’ll be okay.”

I was there watching him handle the turmoil in 2008, maybe this will shed some light on John Daly, the person.

John Daly’s Week at Bay Hill – 2008   

Tiger and Stevie created all the excitement on the course last year; J.D. and Peter, his caddy, had some thorny off course matters, but the public doesn’t know the complete story. John dealt with some difficult issues that week, and those broad shoulders perched over his beer gut handled them very well. Everyone knows he was DQ’d because he missed his Wednesday pro-am time and Butch Harmon, his swing coach, made some disparaging public remarks about John. All of this hit the tabloid front pages full throttle; it was Golf Central breaking news and on the cover of periodicals.

John’s bus was parked at Celebration Country Club all week; we hung out at the Celebration Town Tavern and watched John deal with the turmoil. He came in from Tampa following the John Gruden/Hooters incident the Saturday before. It started Monday, escalated through the week, and he dealt with it all smiling, contributing what he could to Robert Gamez’s foundation pro-am. After playing in Arnold’s Monday pro-am he appeared on Leader Board Radio at the Town Tavern hosted by Ian Davies.

We were relaxing with a few beers, the crowd was enjoying the show and John’s company until three a@%#oles arrived in a limo. While John was being interviewed they started badgering him about being fat and not able to play anymore. Peter, John’s caddy, and I were sitting at a table with Robert’s old friend Hank when they turned on the crowd. John politely dismissed the rabble-rousers but they continued their insulting behavior and we couldn’t handle the abuse. We stood up, kindly asked them to move on when one of them pushed old Hank to the ground.

All hell broke loose for about thirty seconds. I was wrestling on the ground with the main culprit, Ian Davies had some bloody knuckles from a well placed fist, and John was the voice of reason. He stood on a chair, towered over the melee and bellowed, “Knock it off! Stop this shit! We don’t need this here at Billy’s place!” His presence cooled off the melee, everyone separated and replaced the overturned chairs and tables. John escorted the three culprits to a back room table, spent time creating some peace and set up a game with them later in the week. If the papers had caught wind of the incident, who knows what the headlines would have been.

Tuesday we saw John on the putting green. He had played golf with some friends, answered numerous questions about Butch Harmon’s public remarks, but still had that childish grin, shrugging his shoulder about all the hoopla.

We met at the Town Tavern for dinner and reviewed last night’s rhubarb. John didn’t want to take any credit for peacemaker, but did show us the text from Butch earlier that day. Butch is one of the top teachers in the world, but nobody has the right to say the things he did. There were no telephone calls or personal conversations, just text messages and Butch’s diatribes in the press. John shrugged it off, sought no retribution, and sipped on his diet Coke throughout the evening. Tom Glavine, along with a few other major leaguers, came in and John joined them before heading home early.

We all asked John and Peter what time they were playing the next day. Their tee time seemed odd for a pro-am and we suggested they double check it.

Both said, “Nope, this is what the tournament office gave us, it must be right.”

The tournament office staff gave John and Peter their Thursday tee time instead of the pro-am time. John was on his way to the course Wednesday for his assumed 11:11 time when he got a call from PGA tour officials saying he was DQ’d from the tournament because he missed his morning time.

John pleaded his case, but refused to place the blame on anyone but himself and Peter. Those broad shoulders have a pretty good base, plus they have had a lot of exercise over the years. Through all his turmoil John always accepts the blame and carries on with his life. He could have split town right then, packed up his bus and went home, but he stuck around. There were some charity commitments to keep and some neglected pro-am guests he wanted to play golf with over the weekend.

John apologized to Arnold and tournament sponsors then contacted the four guys he was supposed to play with Wednesday and rescheduled a Saturday round with them. He didn’t have to do it; his big heart forced him.

We kept an eye on John during the rest of the week, kind of a suicide watch, but it wasn’t necessary. He spent the days playing golf, hanging out at the bus, and making new friends. There were no drunken binges, I’m not going to say there was no drinking, and John hung around for Robert’s charity functions over the weekend.

None of this made the front pages. Golf Channel made an effort to get John’s side of the story but it didn’t get the same amount of air time as his screw-up. The papers made a minor reference to the Saturday round with the deserted pro-am team. There wasn’t much mentioned about two other players being DQ’d for pro-am infractions, only John made the headlines. John told us he didn’t care; he was doing the right thing, that’s all that matters.

Every time we stopped by the bus there was time for conversation and laughs. Some friends of mine were in town and he made them feel like long lost buddies. The guitar was out on the couch, the fridge was stocked, and John’s arms were open to everyone. The town of Celebration adopted him that week and vice versa. It wasn’t about John the golf celebrity; it was a lot about John the person. The local folks saw John’s Daly personal side and the community embraced the big guy.

Saturday Robert’s foundation put on a concert in downtown Celebration. J.D. was one of the first to arrive and positioned himself in front of the stage. Throughout the night he never turned down an autograph seeker, picture taker, hand-shaker, or a beer; and joined Hootie and the Blowfish for a few songs. He was the center of attention but really just wanted to be part of the crowd and help raise money for Robert’s children charities. John roamed the crowd coaxing cash from their pockets into a large jug then quietly disappeared when the job was done.

John was there for the charity dinner on Sunday night and of course the Monday pro-am. His shirt was on at all times and his foursome had a great time. He was in flip-flops and his celebrity partner got some special attention; she was a cute C&W singer, I don’t blame him. Most pros would have been long gone after the debacle on Wednesday, but John didn’t abandon his friends. He waved his appearance fee but wanted nobody to know; he was having fun for a good cause.

Maybe Bay Hill week was the start of his problems last year that led to his suspension in the fall. We’ve missed the loveable S.O.B. out here on tour; hopefully the suspension will do him some good. It was getting a bit out of control; a big heart and shoulders can only carry you so far. John is good for golf up to a point; the PGA Tour and corporate sponsors can only handle so much. Maybe this suspension should have been handed out long ago, but it’s hard to get pissed at John. That sheepish grin, shrug of the shoulders, and, “Sorry Pards’” has got him out of a lot of jams.

We all hope the grin comes back and he wins a few more tournaments before his career is over.