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Greetings from Buenos Aires
BUENOS AIRES -- Just walked the front nine in the Argentina-Estados Unidos match here at the World Cup of Golf. It was a blast. Argentina's dynamic duo of Angel Cabrera and Eduardo Romero -- both world-class, if little-known, players -- birdied the first six holes in their four-ball, while a fired-up David Duval carried his apparently jet-lagged partner, Tiger Woods, to a respectable score of six under. I wouldn't be surprised to see Argentina win this thing. Cabrera can really move the ball off the tee, and El Gato, with his wedge play and putting, is looking like the second coming of Paul Runyon. The vibe out there on the course was terrific. The gallery was borderline out of control, but in a good way. The masses are very respectful of the players on both teams, but they've got the kind of energy and enthusiasm you'd expect at a Brazil-Argentina futbol match, not a trifling golf tournament. Fans sprint from shot to shot in astonishing numbers, flooding the fairways and occasionally the bunkers (U.S.-Argentina is the final pairing of the day). It's like the bison stampede scene in Dances with Wolves -- only noisier. If you ask me, it's the marshals who are the real problem. These yellow-shirted taskmasters must be the descendants of Third Reich refugees. I haven't been tossed around like this since I went to see Fugazi at the Whiskey during my college days. My new favorite Spanish expression is No manos, and if that fails to make an impression, I go with the always effective, Tu madre es ... use your imagination. Anyway, expect the scoring to be outrageously low the rest of the week (as I write this six teams are 10 under or better). Buenos Aires Country Club is easier than a cheerleader on prom night -- short and flat, with fast fairways and perfect greens. As for the feel of this tournament, it's kinda like a PGA Tour event, only more relaxed and more spirited. Among the revelations so far is that gastronomia is not a fatal intestinal disease but actually the most important spot on the golf course, the snack shack. As for the other sites around BACC, one breathless colleague said to me yesterday,"There's more talent here than at any tournament I've ever covered in the States" -- and he wasn't talking about the players. Argentina is reputed to have the most beautiful women in the world, but I haven't noticed. This may be because my wife, Frances, is on hand, working as a photographer's assistant to Sports Illustrated's esteemed snapper, Simon Bruty. If during the telecast you spot a cute little mamacita inside the ropes wearing a red GOLF PUNK visor -- GOLF PUNK, on Melrose Ave., being our favorite golf-apparel store -- that's Franny. Don't worry, I'm not working my better half too hard. We spent last week hanging out in Rio de Janeiro, which was a blast, to say the least. During our stay I was invited to play the best golf club in town but decided to view the course in another manner altogether -- by hang-gliding high above it. It was the most peaceful feeling in the world. After circling far out to sea, my co-pilot, Eduardo, pointed the glider toward our landing spot -- the beautiful beach in Sao Conrado -- saying,"We touch down really fast, OK?" He then proceeded to point the nose of the glider straight down, and as we plummeted towards the masses of bronzed, topless, thong-clad sunbathing señoritas -- again, I didn't notice, but Eduardo filled me in on the details -- I screamed the only thing that seemed appropriate. No, not, "I'm the king of the world!!!" Echoing through the verdant valleys of Rio were the words, "I am Tiger Woods!" MAIL CALL Last time around one confused reader wanted more information on a toothsome Italian golfer whom he thought went by the name Rocca. I knew the golfer in question was Stefania Croce, but feeling rather mischievous I pointed the curious and the clueless in another direction altogether. Writes Rick Collarini of New Orleans, "I went to www.europeantour.com and looked up Rocca. I did get a shock -- it was Costantino Rocca and his 57 teeth. Where is the babe picture?" Try www.lpga.com, and go to Croce.
Also, in the most shameless bit of self-promotion since Dennis Rodman showed up in midtown Manhattan in a wedding dress, I sent the galleys of my forthcoming book Bud, Sweat, & Tees (Simon & Schuster) to reader Brian Egeston, a.k.a. "Brian from Atlanta." He was supposed to fire off a breezy little review for the On Tour readership, and instead he pounded out an 1,100-word opus. After consulting Brian I've hacked to bits, er, edited the piece considerably, for your reading pleasure. Next week we're going to run a longish excerpt of the book here on the web site, so y'all will get a little taste of your own. In short, the book traces the unlikely journey to the PGA Tour of golfer Rich Beem and caddie Steve Duplantis, and then chronicles their wild adventures throughout the 1999 season and beyond. Simon & Schuster is marketing Bud as the first R-rated golf book, and to be sure there is a lot of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll, but it is also a poignant story of a couple of outsiders who, against incredible odds, have found qualified success on the PGA Tour. Plus, the book is packed with a lot of cool, insidery golf stuff about the inner workings of the PGA Tour, and it offers an examination of the cloistered, mysterious caddie culture. It's also a chance for me to riff on various topics without the constraints of a family magazine/Web site. Without further ado, Brian's take on the book: "Though it sounds like a far-fetched fiction-fable, the story is true and the names have not been changed to protect the innocent. Therefore, everyone in the book is guilty. Guilty of heavy drinking, womanizing, intense partying and good ol' fashioned tomfoolery. During the course of the book, Shipnuck exposes three characters: Rich Beem, Steve Duplantis and the PGA Tour. Seasoned with snippets of golf-course history and tournament highlights, the author does an admirable job of covering the entire gamut of the checkered life on the PGA Tour. "As Shipnuck says in the acknowledgements, Beem and Duplantis opened up their worlds with brutal candor on topics from the mundane to the deeply personal. It is a rare occasion when an athlete -- or a caddie -- opens himself up so much that we see clear through to his mitochondria. Duplantis and Beem should be commended for sharing their stories. "Embedded deep within this walk on the wild side of the PGA Tour is a human story of two young men striving to pursue their dreams. Each character eventually achieves hero status to those of us who search to master the game of life. The process of compiling an enjoyable golf book is an arduous task. Alan Shipnuck, the golden boy of golf writing, has just made that task easier by setting a standard for all golf books to follow."
Click here to send Alan Shipnuck a question or a nice, friendly comment.
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