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Travel and leisure and golf, oh my!

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Posted: Thursday March 23, 2000 05:53 PM

CASA DE CAMPO, DOMINICAN REPUBLIC -- Reader Jim McLaughlin of Washington, D.C., poses an important question: "Why are you the main character in all your features? No one cares about you or the logistical struggles involved in the highly important job of writing about golf." Ignoring the obvious implications of Jimmy Mac's missive -- that he seems to be a loyal On Tour consumer, and that he took time out of his day to compose a snippy e-mail -- I have decided to take the critique to heart. To you, the disgruntled reader, I offer a penetrating analysis of The Players Championship and probing preview of the Masters ... next week. For now I simply must share with you the details of this little adventure I'm enjoying out here in the middle of the Caribbean.

MAIL CALL There was, predictably, a heavy correspondence about last week's the-making-of involving Karrie Webb. Public opinion was, seemingly, split right down the middle. I hate to be the one to inform you, but just because you are a member of the press does not entitle you to an interview with Ms. Webb. If Ms. Webb doesn't want to talk to you, then she has every right. You have no right to interview ANYONE. If an individual doesn't want to talk to Alan Shipnuck or any other reporter for that matter, there is absolutely no reason why they should. The article I just read about your trials and tribulations to get a Webb interview was one of the most worthless articles I've ever read. Who cares if you were inconvenienced; that's life as a reporter. Do you honestly think that anyone is obligated to do an interview with you? I know nothing about women's golf or Ms. Webb, so I have no allegiance to her. So take my criticism of you as completely objective. That article was pointless and a waste of my time. Your article showcased a whiny, self-centered child: You! I will never read another article by you again. --Mike Netzer, Raleigh, N.C. Gee, Mike, I hope you feel better after all that. Some licensed professionals would charge you $125 an hour for this kind of anger management counseling. But me, I'm just happy to help with your treatment. Jay Bavington of Las Vegas concluded a long, bitter diatribe with this zinger: Oh, by the way, no one cares how long your sister is in town and where you planned on having a drink. Thanks for writing, Jay! There were also a hardy number of sympathizers: The goons around Karrie Webb sound like the same types that surround George W. Bush. They are both scared to death that their earning machine will say something that will show their general ignorance and kill the golden goose. You should have told Ms. Webb to take a flying leap. She sounds like a major head case and a real bore. --Steve Speir, Austin, Texas I can't believe the treatment you endured! SI is fortunate to have someone like you who would stay with the story after that crap. Way to keep your cool after discovering the truth while in Australia. Good luck in covering Webb in the future. We want to know the truth. --Ken Berendt, Toledo, Ohio All I can say is, I hope Ken isn't being sarcastic.

Wednesday morning I played Teeth of the Dog, the Pete Dye masterwork that ranks among the best and most beautiful courses I've ever laid eyes on. Wednesday afternoon I blasted clay pigeons with a 12-gauge shotgun, in a private lesson with Michael Rose, one of the world's leading riflemen and skeet instructors. This was followed by a nap, an hour-long, in-room massage by a dark-eyed Dominican beauty, and then enough New York steak and chocolate mousse to bloat even John Daly. On Tuesday I played another Dye course, The Links, lounged on the beach drinking pina coladas out of a gutted pineapple, watched a spirited polo match, then did some browsing at an impossibly charming little village where they were all but giving away homegrown cigars and rum and gray pearl jewelry. It's been a brutal couple of days.

How did this all come to be? Somewhere between California and The Players Championship I fell through the rabbit hole, into a strange wonderland known euphemistically as travel writing. I hooked up with the slick bimonthly Travel & Leisure Golf on a freelance assignment to Casa, which since being ravaged by Hurricane George in the summer of '98 has poured $24 million into a top-to-bottom renovation. The resort is obviously eager to spread the word that it is better than ever (which it is), the travel mag needs to fill space with splashy photos, and I've always wanted to play the Teeth. Voila. That is the simple formula by which I've come to be treated like a maharajah.

In trying to justify this trip to my better half, locked in mortal combat back home with her elementary school pupils, I have struck upon a couple of legit reasons why I should be here. Casa is trying to secure the World Amateur Championship in 2004, and there is even loose talk of bringing the WGC World Cup down here sometime in the future. OK, that's all I got. (At least I tried.)

In the interest of full disclosure, there can be a lot of these kinds of boondoggles in the life of a freelance golf writer. With new courses springing up like weeds, the money and the egos behind them are desperate for attention, and/or acclaim. There are a never-ending series of junkets to these courses, and often entire destinations. I've turned down trips to Cabo, the Caribbean, British Columbia and Florida, to comply with SI's policies against free travel (plus, I spend enough time with my fellow writers; vacationing with them would be beyond the pale). At least here in Casa I'm working on a specific piece for an established magazine that's paying my way. I've even gone so far as to do a few sit-down interviews, as well as one lie-down (I chatted with the masseuse about the upswing in doughy American tourists).

So why am I spilling the beans about all of this? I feel it is my duty to inform you, the golfing public, about even the most obscure slices of the Industry. It has nothing to do with me wanting to make public the fact I made two birdies and 10 pars on the Teeth, from the back tees in high winds. I mention this only as a way of illustrating how difficult the course can be, as I was 11 over on the other six holes and had to settle for an 81. But enough about me.

Sports Illustrated golf writer Alan Shipnuck will take you On Tour each Wednesday at golfplus.cnnsi.com. Click here to send Alan a question or a nice, friendly comment.

 

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