Doug Sanders used to have followers. Men admired Sanders, the
golfer who dressed like a rainbow and often played like a dream,
for winning 20 Tour titles between 1956 and 1972. Women admired
him too and followed golf's leading hedonist on and off the
course from Scotland to Augusta to Las Vegas, where the man
called Peacock partied with his drinking buddies Frank Sinatra
and Dean Martin. "It was what every man dreams of: fun, beer and
pretty women," he says.
Today Sanders, 64, lives alone and waits for the phone to ring.
"I want to play," he says. "I've been asking for sponsors'
exemptions, but everyone turns me down." A player of Sanders's
stature, with 154 top 10 finishes and 20 wins, might expect to
be welcomed back, yet his colorful past keeps shadowing him.
Before he wore ruby spikes, he ran barefoot in Polk County, Ga.,
whose prime exports included whiskey and fire-breathing
religion. Sanders reached the PGA Tour in 1957 and lived what he
now calls a "sinful" life as he flirted with golf greatness. At
the 1970 British Open at St. Andrews he had a two-foot putt on
the final hole to beat Jack Nicklaus. He missed it, then lost in
a playoff. Some say Sanders never recovered from that defeat,
but as rumors of drunken binges as well as sexual and financial
excesses dogged his heels, he kept playing life fast and loose.
After joining the Senior tour in 1983, he became host of the
Doug Sanders Celebrity Classic, but the event collapsed four
years ago amid charges that he had looted tournament coffers for
his personal use—charges he denies.
"There's no halo over my head," Sanders admits, "but I have
turned my life around. I haven't drunk a drop since Aug. 28,
1993." He says he became a born-again Christian in 1995, a time
when he was bedeviled by a painful twitch that nearly drove him
crazy. His head and hands would spontaneously jerk sideways. On
the course he bit down on his collar to keep his head steady
when he swung. He hoped for a miracle but got a diagnosis
instead: He had torticollis, a rare muscle disorder.
"I didn't party anymore, couldn't play golf, couldn't get away
from the pain. I'll admit it, I thought about suicide," he says.
Finally he flew to Montreal to endure a risky seven-hour
operation. "My heart stopped when I was on the operating table,"
he says. Doctors resuscitated him—his miracle, as Sanders sees
it—and after two days in a coma he woke. The twitch was gone.
During his recovery, Sanders shrank to 135 pounds. Now up to
177, he recently returned to the 18th green at St. Andrews to
make peace with the putt he blew three decades ago. Last month
he took 15 sweaters and 23 pairs of shoes to the three-day
Legends of Golf, where he teamed with Tommy Armour to win $12,000.
In seeking sponsors' exemptions to Senior events, Sanders is
asking for pro golf's version of charity. "I deserve it. I
helped found this tour," he says. "God gave me another chance to
live. Now I hope somebody gives me a chance to play golf."
Issue date: April 6, 1998
|
|
