Mark’s Kaddy Korner

Without them a player is almost lost and a caddy needs to learn that early in life. Without the wife in a caddy’s corner, his job is almost lost. You need to recognize who is the boss and pacify her whenever possible. It doesn’t take much, a bottle of water on a hot day, a short cut from the green to the next fairway, a local restaurant recommendation, and help loading the trunk on Sunday afternoon. Every once in awhile you may have to carry an extra umbrella for a hole or two and rarely do you catch a wife’s wrath, but it does happen.

I’ve been very lucky over the years and blessed with two wonderful player wives, Gail Murphy and Pam Tewell. Tony Navarro, life -long caddy for many stars—Norman, Crenshaw, Floyd, and Sutton— told me early. “I’ve been fired about five or six times, but only once by a player.” I was confused and he said, “The other firings were by the spouse for whatever reason. If you’re not in good with the wife you are doomed.”

It didn’t take much to stay on their good side. They were the epitome of a support system. You would find them at the first tee early and they would be there at the turn on Sundays after packing all the luggage while confirming travel arrangement and tying up loose ends at the hotel. They made it as easy as possible for their guy to play golf and they wanted no fanfare.

Stories were told of the early years on tour. Station wagons full of kids, toys, pets, luggage, and golf clubs traveling the circuit, usually winding up at a Howard Johnsons because there was a courtyard and they could fire up the BBQ grills at night. There were many meals out of crock pots and electric frying pans so their guys could pursue their careers. The distractions were kept to a minimum so the boys could go low.

They were always in their man’s corner in public but there were hints of butt-chewing behind closed doors. If caddies couldn’t motivate their man a wife sure could. A couple of wives called me over to the ropes more than once and told me to promise him “special favors” for a few birdies down the stretch. Favors I couldn’t provide but boy did my man’s eyes light up and the birdies started flying. The best I could offer was a beer for birdies.

They were always protective. Gail Murphy once cornered me at an ESPN party and I actually thought she was upset. She was but humorously so. Apparently she was tired of watching “hubby” walk down the fairway muttering expletives to himself. She said, “Damn it Mark, can you walk beside him, nod your head and act like you’re listening so he doesn’t look like he is going crazy.” We both laughed and the next day I got a couple of thumbs up from behind the ropes as I was walking and nodding.

Pam and Gail were both good putting instructors but always relayed their information through me. The guys wouldn’t listen in the hotel room and 90% of the time they were right. They had been watching for so long they could detect minute malfunctions in most aspects of the game even though they never played. Jack always said Barbara was his best instructor and without her he wouldn’t have won all those majors.

I was lucky but there were a few times I butted heads with the proverbial wife who thought she was the show and knew everything about the game. Demeanor, composure, decorum, etiquette are components of the professional game and when something goes wrong you roll with it and go on to the next hole. This particular wife liked to verbally abuse her husband and me if she got the chance. A few times after a rough finish to the round, I’d have to face the wrath first, my pro sending me from the scorer’s tent to see if she was still there. It was tough but part of the job. Without her heavy hand the old boy might not have been the player he turned out to be. Prior to matrimony he was spending some late nights and not living up to expectations.

The wives are the unsung heroes and you don’t hear much about them until some tragedy erupts. Tiger will have trouble functioning without the support at home. Barbara was always there for everything Jack needed. She walked quietly among the gallery talking with everyone. If someone approached she’d pull the name from her memory, whisper it to Jack, and he would put out his hand like they were long lost friends. Without Barbara his thumb would not have been in a handshake. The wives help their guys through every situation and are more of a part of the team than any guru or caddy.