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All Tiger tales have been told
Posted: Thursday June 29, 2000 12:13 PM
There was no On Tour last week, and contrary to the opinion of most of my readers and all of my superiors, this had nothing to do with my Bruce Lietzke- like work ethic or the beginning of my wife's summer break. Truth be told, I'm still grappling with the magnitude of what happened at the U.S. Open. I was there, I saw Tiger play maybe half of his holes, I audited the press conferences of plenty of other players -- all of whom had the shell-shocked expressions of soldiers straggling back from the Western Front -- and I can still scarcely believe what unfolded. The scary part was how routine the whole thing was. This was the U.S. Freakin' Open, at Pebble Beach, and yet the general attitude was, Oh, that silly Tiger, he's at it again. Forget the future of golf -- it's sportswriters I'm most worried about. How many times are we gonna have to write the same damn story? When it comes to Tiger, nearly all the options have already been exhausted, and the guy's only 24! The '97 Masters was about the razing of golf's shameful racial past and the birth of a cross-cultural icon; the '99 PGA was the payoff for a new swing and revamped personal and professional life; the Open was a celebration of one of the most outrageous performance in the game's history. (By the way, Pebble Beach has always been par 72. It always will be. So Tiger's 272 was really -16. How ill is that?) His victory next month at St. Andrews will be the career Slam. Then what? Dan Jenkins has said that the key phrase of his career was " Jack Nicklaus comma," but at least Nicklaus inspired some of the competition to new heights. So far we have failed to identify the next Tom Watson or Lee Trevino, or even Johnny Miller or Tom Weiskopf. Ernie Els has given it a nice go, but finishing a distant second every now and then doesn't cut it. If Tiger keeps winning like this we're gonna start scrapping the text and merely printing photo acts from the majors. There is nothing left to say about the guy, and I'm not sure this is a good thing. All of this was brought home for me last week when I took in my second straight major, the LPGA Championship. That tournament had a half-dozen good subplots; an interesting, everchanging leaderboard; and a nerve-jangling, if sloppy, finish. Miracle of miracles, it was actually fun to follow. O.K., I've vented. I feel better. While I'm still worked up, I thought I'd do an expanded Mail Call, because of the sheer accumulation of correspondence that has poured in, some of it actually coherent. So: I saw Stefania Croce when she did really well at the U.S. Open a few years ago and have followed her ever since. (From a distance. I am not stalking her.) What a hottie! Now my secret is out -- everyone knows how gorgeous she is! And the worst part is that I was out of town this weekend and didn't get to see any of it on the tube!
Buddy, I feel your pain. Croce has been one of my faves since the mid-'90s. After her star turn at the LPGA Championship we can all agree on her lovely form -- and she's got a good swing, to boot. However, this may cool your jets a bit: Last week one of the caddies told me that the reason Croce always wears pants, even in sweltering weather like we had in Wilmington, is because, like a true Italian diva, she never shaves her legs. While I think this would make a good investigative piece for the mag, I can't verify the veracity of this rumor. I mention it here only because the public has a right to know ... What's up with Notah Begay now wearing earrings? Can tattoos and cornrows be far behind?
Yeah, it's too bad all the guys on the PGA Tour don't have the milquetoast, white-bread, Johnny Highcrotch country-club-brat look that makes Jeff Sluman such a dashing figure. I, for one, would dig a few 'rows. In a sport where Duffy Waldorf's hats are considered cutting-edge, we could definitely use a little deviance in our heroes' appearances. You are officially a hack. How many times are you going to recycle that Charles Barkley story? Your loyal readers have all seen it before. I only fear for how many times you grandkids will have to hear it!
Wow, my bad. Thanks for getting in my grill, Ed. Considering I've told that story in print exactly once, five years ago, I guess I didn't realized the depth of devotion among some of you. Funny story: I was recently complimenting a quasi-prominent columnist on having moved to a new paper. He said, "Yeah, I only got three years worth of jokes. After that I gotta change jobs, because I'm out of material." I better get my résumé off to Golf for Women, pronto! I have the utter misfortune of having lived here in England for a year and being forced, by virtue of my golfing obsession, to attend the final day of the Open next month in St. Andrews. As a complete newbie to the major-championship scene, what pointers could you give to someone about how to take in his first major in person?
For starters, don't stand too close to Chip Beck. Beyond that, it's hard not to have a blast. Wear comfortable shoes and get ready to log some miles. Resist the urge to park yourself somewhere with a couple pints of the bitter. To me, the best part of spectating is watching a round develop. Pick one group and stay with it for at least the front nine, where, at St. Andrews, there are plenty of birdies available. This way you'll get to see the course -- which in this case is dazzlingly strategic and interesting -- as well as the myriad skills (and weaknesses) of the players you're following. There is always a marquee pairing that is not quite in contention, going out about an hour and a half before the leaders. The crowds will be thin, and this is your best chance to really see some golf. Since you're going for the final round of the Open Championship, you owe it to yourself to experience the electricity of the tournament being won and lost. I would double back and catch the last couple of groups as they play the backbreaking (if it's windy) home holes. You won't see a heck of a lot amidst the mosh pit, but the experience is unforgettable. Bro, your Davis Love shtick is getting STALE. There has to be another target for your poisonous darts.
Yeah, well, I've been feeling a lot of remorse about this lately. I promise to stop bagging on DL3. As soon as he wins again. (Editor's note: Davis Love material will be forthcoming for the foreseeable future.) How come while you're playing all of these beautiful courses on "business" you don't tell us what you shoot? I would like to know how tough the courses you're playing are. It's O.K. if you blow up à la John Daly ... I promise not to laugh!
My scores remain off the record for the same reason Heidi Klum still wears a thong in our Swimsuit Issue -- we must maintain some of the mystery alive. Anyway, it always pains me to have to report on all the free golf I'm playing. To name-drop skinny little numbers would be gratuitous, and I don't want to do anything to alienate the readership. Sports Illustrated golf writer Alan Shipnuck will take you On Tour each
Thursday at golfplus.cnnsi.com. Click here to send Alan
a question or a nice, friendly comment.
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