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Celebrating Sunday

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Posted: Thursday May 25, 2000 02:37 PM

  Alan Shipnuck - On Tour

Can we take a moment, please, to reflect on what an incredible Sunday of golf we just witnessed? I can't remember another day when the four tours -- PGA, Euro, Old Guys, Chicks -- have ever produced so much drama at the same time. Phil Mickelson's smoking 63 to win at Colonial was a terrific finish, and yet that was probably Sunday's least compelling action.

 
MAIL CALL

I wondered if you had an opinion on the use of the word golf as a verb. I have used it as such in the headline of an ad and am catching some grief.
—David Longfield, Dallas

Dave, you obviously work with a bunch of Philistines. One of my favorite expressions is "golf his ball," as in, That kid Longfield can really golf his ball. It's the ultimate compliment. Though few English departments will admit it, golf is one of the more versatile words in the language. My wife uses it as an adjective or, more to the point, a putdown. If I throw on some odious khaki/polo combo, she's occasionally moved to say, "That's too golfy." I'd love to prattle on, but I'm on my way to golf (note verb).

I think a David Duval vs. Davis Love matchup would be a great match to watch instead of Tiger vs. Sergio. Of course, it would have to be played on Monday because neither would be able to win on SUNDAY! They would just tie each other for second.
—Jeff Travis, Winston-Salem, N.C.

I'm not sure what inspired this snarkiness, but booly to you, Travis. Unsolicited putdowns will always have a home here at On Tour.

You mentioned having Nick Faldo over to play in your mythical poker game. A friend of mine played in the pro-am with him at the BellSouth and said that Nicky had zero personality, that he separated himself from the group as quickly as possible. The fact that two of the amateurs were out-putting him probably didn't help. What do you know about Faldo that we don't?
—Jeff Robertson, DeBary, Fla.

See, this is what I like about Faldo: He doesn't care one bit about your buddy and his 23 handicap, or the other back-slappers in the group. I've noticed that Faldo, unlike every other player on Tour, never carries a Sharpie in his back pocket. When people ask him for his autograph he simply says, "Sorry, I've got no pen." It's as brilliant as it is devious. At tournaments the guy's all business, no pretense. However, he is utterly hysterical when he wants to be, and judging from his messy personal life, he cuts loose when away from the golf course. You set Faldo up with a half-dozen beers and three or four cigars, and I have a hunch he would be the life of the party.

I'm a new reader to your online column and I must say ... congratulations! You've made what I and most of my friends would consider the ultimate male fantasy a reality. You travel the world, play the best courses, meet beautiful women and get paid for it. Unbelievable.
—Ed Johnson, Cary, N.C.

We all have our crosses to bear, Ed. Know this: My devotion to you, the reader, knows no bounds.

Watching Tiger spit the bit over in Germany was actually kinda fun. What's that old line? Nobody roots for IBM? Same deal here. If Woods wins every single time he has a final-round lead, there is very little suspense for the rest of us. That he drowned a ball down the stretch was an added bonus. The guy who stepped on his neck, Lee Westwood, put together an absolutely flawless 64, a huge breakthrough for a player who had been in a funk all season. We all know that only one European has prevailed at the U.S. Open since 1927, but Westwood rates as more than just a dark horse. He's straight off the tee and long enough, murder with his irons, and claims to love fast greens (even if his performances at the majors haven't always backed this up). I look for him to be a factor at Pebble. By the way, is there anything in life better than getting up, sitting in front of the tube in your tighty-whiteys and watching live Euro action, all the while enjoying a breakfast of Count Chocula?

It's too bad the LPGA doesn't afford us the same pleasure. It's inconceivable that there was no live TV coverage of the Karrie Webb-Annika Sorenstam fireworks. As big as golf is right now, there's absolutely no excuse for it. Anyhoo, I'm glad to see Annika coming strong. She's probably the only person in the golf world not willing to concede Webb's superiority. Annika has always been obsessive about stats and awards, and I know deep down she's thinking, If I can win three or four more times this year I might just steal the Player of the Year award. Sounds like a longshot, but considering her finishing kick on Sunday, who knows.

Now for the over-50 set. My disdain for the Senior tour is no secret, but I must confess that Sunday's action was absolutely thrilling. For starters, there was Tom Watson making birdies like it was the late 1970s (minus the Sansabelt slacks, thankfully). This is the very reason why the Senior tour was created -- so old favorites could have a chance at victory again, long after they stopped being a factor with the flatbellies. It was a blast watching Watson tear up the golf course, egged on by the hometown crowd in Kansas City. Did you catch the action on 18? Protecting a one-stroke lead, Dana Quigley hit a great shot in there to about 12 feet. Watson then stepped up and hit his approach to six inches. The crowd went postal. I almost blew out my rotator cuff pumping my fist at home. And this is the freakin' Senior tour! Anyway, Quigley followed with an absolutely bloodless putt to slay Watson and the crowd. It was great stuff, and after an exhausting day of viewing, I was just thankful I had the good sense to be a golf fan.

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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