Three days with Bill Murray

Two things I learned about comedian Bill Murray when I followed him at the AT&T Pebble Beach National Pro-Am:

1. Murray is old school when it comes to golf, believe it or not. He doesn't wear a golf glove. He uses a persimmon driver (not an old classic but a new Japanese-made model he recently picked up in that country) and a wooden mallet putter. The former caddie in him shows. He religiously retrieved his own divots and, perhaps fetishly, often the divots of playing partners Scott Simpson, Andy Garcia and Paul Stankowski. Despite his slacker persona, he was careful not to step on anyone else's putting line. He knows the game and he can play. Which you might not have thought back in 1992 when he showed up for his first AT&T wearing an outlandish hat that was a replica of the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome.

2. Murray is the greatest ambassador golf has ever seen. Some pros -- notably, Lee Trevino, Fuzzy Zoeller, Arnold Palmer, Chi Chi Rodriguez and Peter Jacobsen over the years -- have had great interaction with fans. At the AT&T, Murray blows them all away. The occasional Murray wild antic will receive airtime on TV, but what he does is become a Johnny Appleseed of Good Cheer with his teasing, cajoling and ad-libs, winning fans over one by one as he wanders along each fairway. The real story about Murray playing to the fans -- and this is going to be even harder to believe than the old-school stuff -- is that he cares about people. Of course, that would ruin his image as the Official National Imp, but that's the way it is. "Bill typically picks out people who maybe don't get a lot of attention -- quiet people, seniors, kids -- and who maybe need some attention," said Simpson, Murray's usual pro partner. "The time he gives to the fans ... I've never seen anyone do that."

MAILBAG I can't tell you how pleasant it has been to watch a golf tournament on TV without every other phrase being "Tiger Woods." I guess all of that has ended now. Any comments? —Chris Ingram, Summerville, S.C. Hey, Chris. Did you see Tiger Woods chip in at the end of his round Friday? How about when Tiger hit it close at 18 and then missed the short birdie putt? Tiger was two shots back after the first round. Didn't you think Tiger was going to win then? Aren't you glad to have Tiger back? Tiger, Tiger, Tiger. What has happened to Rich Beem's game? When he won the PGA Championship, everybody appreciated his relaxed attitude, but has he become a bit too relaxed? Do you think he can regain anything close to the form he displayed that weekend? —Brad Cummings, Seattle The Beemer had a chance to cash in on his PGA win, so he chased dollars and appearance fees in November and December. With no offseason, he's temporarily burnt out. When he rests up, he'll be back. The guy can flat out make birdies. I just saw a clip from the 1986 Masters in which most of the players were using persimmon woods, and it made me wonder why we can't go back to using them. In order to reduce the advantage technology is giving players, what do you think of the PGA Tour returning to persimmon woods? Professional baseball uses wooden bats while amateur baseball uses aluminum. —Ronnie Garvin, Edmonton, Alberta The concept is interesting, Garv, but it will never, ever happen. So why waste time discussing it? OK, let's waste time. Which company is going to spend all that money to produce persimmon woods for tour players to use (but won't be able to sell a one to the public)? Answer? Nobody. Yes, Louisville Golf still makes persimmon woods, but the task of supplying persimmon for the entire tour -- it's not feasible anymore. Also, as soon as the PGA Tour tried to invoke persimmon, it would be sued by every major manufacturer of metal woods. In short, dream on. How do you like the new 350-yard par-3s being played on tour this year? —Victor Canseco, Elk Grove Village, Ill. I hate 'em, Jose. I keep hitting my drives over the green. Guess I gotta gear back to the 3-wood. I have watched my last tournament. Players hitting 8-irons 185 yards out of deep rough? Guys hitting 360-yard drives? Come on. When are tour pros going to realize that technology has pushed them so far past the common golfer that the game they play no longer seems real? —Dennis O., Houston Probably not until fans stop watching and sponsors stop sponsoring. Or until we see our first score of 56 at a tour event.

The only drawback to walking with Murray's group is that you're forever missing something. A group of fans up ahead would start laughing, but I'd be just out of earshot. I didn't write down 1/20th of what he did and said for three days, not even close, but here are a few highlights of 54 holes with Bill:

Thursday, Spyglass Hill

On the second green, Ann Babich asks Murray to autograph a copy of his book Cinderella Story: My Life in Golf, which she has brought along. Murray and Simpson have just scored bogeys despite perfect tee shots, each playing poor approach irons and chips. "No," Murray tells Babich, "my self-esteem is too low right now."

At the par-3 third, overlooking the ocean on a gloriously clear day, Murray hits a terrific chip from behind the green to within 2 feet to save par. As he nears the fourth tee, Babich is waiting for him, holding out the book. "Bill, how's your self-esteem doing now?" she inquires. "A little better," Murray says. He walks over and takes the book. He asks where she's from and she tells him Chicago. "Where in Chicago?" asks Murray, a native of suburban Wilmette. "Hoffman Estates," Babich says. Murray gets a wounded look on his face and puts the pen down. "No," he says, looking more disgusted by the second. "No way," he says, and pushes the book back toward her. Babich pleads her case, pushing the book back toward Murray. It's all just a tease, of course. Murray eventually signs. Babich looks at what he wrote: "Stay out of Schaumberg -- Bill Murray."

At the fourth green, Garcia's ball winds up on a fan's blanket on a hillside right of the green, not far from several fans sitting in folding chairs wearing masks of former U.S. presidents. "I loved you in Point Break," Murray yells at them, referencing the obscure movie in which bank robbers wore similar masks. He gets a few chuckles. When it's his turn to putt, Murray is over his ball when his caddie says, "It goes at the hole." Murray thinks about that for a moment, then straightens up. "It goes at the hole? It goes at the hole? What does that mean?" he asks. Murray hits the putt. The ball breaks sharply left as it nears the cup and misses. As Murray walks to mark his ball, shaking his head, Garcia explains, "It goes at the hole." Murray gives him a mock glare, then says to the gallery, "This was the guy up in the ice plant." More laughter.

As he walks up the sixth fairway, a fan asks Murray about his wardrobe. Murray is dressed in all black, including a buttoned, long-sleeved shirt, and could pass for Johnny Cash if not for his electric-green socks. "These are my last clean clothes," Murray explains. A few holes later, he'll trade his garish baseball cap with a Spanish inscription for a matching black bucket hat and score a light-blue scarf from a female fan, which he'll tie around his waist like a sash. On the sixth green, Simpson has an 8-foot birdie putt from above the hole. "This one has to go in," Murray tells the crowd as Simpson prepares to putt. Simpson makes the putt, drawing loud applause. Murray stands there blankly, unmoving, then finally asks Simpson, "Have you putted yet?" Then, acknowledging the birdie, Murray says, "Ladies and gentlemen, that breaks a three-year drought."

The par-5 seventh is a stroke hole for Murray, who, with a 16 handicap, has a license to steal. He's in good shape after two solid shots, but pulls his approach into the far end of the pond and makes a double bogey. As he walks to the next tee, a woman along the gallery ropes holds out a large bag of red licorice. "Bill, Bill! I'm the licorice lady. I bring you licorice every year, remember?" she calls out. Murray comes over. "But don't take all of it like you did last year," she adds. "Got any poison in there?" Murray asks, snagging three long sticks. He heads for the eighth tee and several women ask for autographs. Murray feigns indignation. "Ladies, please," he says. "I'm eating licorice."

You have to cross a road to reach the ninth tee at Spyglass. Murray is besieged by autograph seekers as he walks, but still somehow notices the first car stopped at the crosswalk, a rusted Toyota with three teenagers inside. He walks over to the car, plops a couple of pairing sheets on the car's black hood and uses it as a desk to sign the sheets. After signing a couple, Murray walks away. The kids in the car, mouths agape, can't believe their luck.

A large crowd is packed around the 10th tee, where one loudmouth fan who's decided he's as funny as Murray keeps piping up while the group waits to hit. "Hey, nice no-underwear look, Bill," the fan says. Murray looks over. "Is that the guy from the locker room? I was worried that you were watching me," he says.

Later, he stops to talk with some fans along the 10th fairway. He picks out a woman. "Saddle shoes," he says, looking down at her feet. "Nebraska cheerleader. Very sensible."

Murray ducks outside the gallery ropes en route to the 11th tee. A youngster asks for an autograph. "That depends on what kind of a kid you are," Murray tells him. "Good," the boy says. "A good kid." Murray grins, signs and then points to Rush Limbaugh's autograph on the same page. "Aren't you a little young for this one?"

Shot of the day at the 13th: Murray is in the right rough with two large trees 40 yards ahead of him blocking his path to the green. He debates whether to lay up but, egged on by the gallery, pulls out a 3-wood. He nails it, cuts it around the trees. The ball lands on the front of the green, hits the flagstick and caroms 12 feet away. The crowd whoops it up as Murray embraces the acclaim as if it's nothing unusual. Simpson then hits his approach shot closer than Murray's. "He's just gotta show me up," Murray says. "I can never have any attention. It's all about him. And Paul's the same way." Stankowski, ready to hit a few feet away, swings and hits his shot inside Murray's, too. "I hate you both," Murray announces. Murray misses his putt for a net eagle, rolling it an ugly 4 feet past, but he raises his hand to acknowledge the applause (there is none) as if he holed it.

Simpson and Stankowski hit shots close to the pin at the par-3 15th. As Garcia tees up, Murray asks, "Andy, closest to pin for $1?" Andy answers, "I already owe you $1." Murray smirks: "I know. That's my little way of reminding you, An-DEEE."

After finishing out at the 18th, Murray works his way past the crowd, signing autographs. He runs into the woman who gave him the sash. Her name is Amber. She's there with her mother, a young-looking blonde, who gives Murray a hug and kiss. "You two look like you should be stripping together at the same club," he tells them. They take it as a compliment. Amber's mom asks Murray if he used the gift she gave him at last year's tournament. "Sure, I took it home," Murray said.

The woman smiles, "Awww, you took it to your home?"

"Yeah. I used it as kindling."

Further down the line of fans, another woman wants to know about the sash. Murray yells back at Amber, then relays the information. "Nordstrom's. $8. Upstairs." Then he's off to the parking lot, a waiting car, and gone.

Friday, Poppy Hills

Murray's group tees off on the 10th hole, a par-5, and after two good shots, Murray blades his approach over the green. It bounces past a white folding chair that a marshal had been sitting in. "You said aim at the white chair," Murray jokingly tells Simpson. Murray plays a wonderful chip to 2 feet, and after he makes the putt for par, he struts off the green. "I'm hot -- hot as a pistol," he says. "I'm really rolling my rock, baby."

Kevin Costner's group, playing ahead of Murray's, isn't off the second tee yet when Murray's group approaches. It's going to be a 15-minute wait. Murray talks to fans. He notices one man wearing an Oakdale hat and asks where Oakdale is. "About 2 1/2 hours east of here," the man says, "near Sonora, our archrival."

"Sonora?" Murray asks. Then he spits contemptuously on the ground. "Those Sonoran dogs!" Then Murray breaks into his Carl Spackler of Caddyshack voice and provides a long list of fake directions. "Yeah, I take the old mill cutoff to 17, take the off-ramp and go right ... I save eight minutes driving time that way."

When Murray finally plays the par-3 second, his tee shot ends up on a downslope near the back edge of a bunker behind the green. This is a difficult shot even for a tour pro. Murray spins a nice sand-wedge shot that lands and pulls up 12 feet past the hole. A tour pro wouldn't have done much better. Murray flips the wedge back over his head in a show of complete triumph. On the way to the next tee, he stops to sign for a cute preteen wearing braces. ."When do you get the braces off?" Murray asks. She tells him the date. "Call me," Murray says.

On the 12th tee, a group of eight teenagers (mostly Australian) show up wearing large, pointed sombreros. "Are you guys here for the closing ceremonies?" Murray asks. Moments later, he zings them again. "I thought we were tightening up the borders."

A helicopter flies far overhead on the 14th tee. "Trump, would you just land your damn helicopter? What a jerk," Murray says.

Murray chats up two blonde women wearing sunglasses at the next tee. He lifts one's glasses to get a better look. "My god, what a package," he says. "Stay with us," he tells the women, "in case we find some beer or wine."

They make the turn and go to No. 1. Murray's approach shot misses the green way right, flying into a hazard. Right of a greenside bunker, Murray points to a tall Monterey pine and asks, "Is that one of those California condors?" Everyone looks up. He drops a ball. "I'm right here, guys," he jokes. He picks up his ball and walks to the back of the green, where he stretches out on the ground, propping his head up on one elbow. Stankowski lines up his putt, Murray pretends to lose his balance and roll down a steep slope. "I'm OK," he tells Stankowski. "So make a damn putt, will you?" Stankowski rolls in a 25-footer for birdie, points his putter at Murray and smiles. The crowd goes wild. Stankowski gives Murray the ball. Murray looks at it and asks, "Can I have your glove, too?"

Murray hits into another bunker at the par-3 sixth. A female fan standing near the bunker as Murray waits to play says, "If you hit a good shot, I'll do the happy dance for you." Murray says, "I might ask for more than that." She says, "How about a lappy dance?" Murray laughs so hard he snorts. Then he picks his bunker shot clean, flying it over the green by a mile. He doggedly finds the ball, pitches it to the fringe, then chips in for bogey, earning a huge roar from the gallery. Simpson is over his putt now, a 6-footer. "Scott, that kid just called from the hospital and said he wanted you to make this putt," Murray says. Simpson chuckles, then holes the putt. "And Scott went out that day and made two putts!" Murray announces." A moment later, Murray adds: "That kid is just a hospital orderly. He's on a prison work-release program. He's perfectly fine."

Stankowski holes a nice par putt at the seventh green and hears no reaction from the fans. "Toughest crowd in golf, the seventh green at Poppy Hills," Murray says. Then, looking up, he adds, "Lord, bring hail upon this green." Murray misses his own putt. "I wasn't going to do it for you," he tells the fans. He intentionally misses his next putt. Then misses several more from 2 feet until he finally backhands it in. When Simpson makes his putt, Murray pretends to be angry: "Scott, why do you pander to them?"

At the ninth green, Stankowski hits a brilliant shot to 5 feet and is lining up a putt for his second eagle of the round. Murray says loudly, "If he makes this eagle putt, they're gonna go nuts here. Crazy." Stankowski makes the putt and the fans oblige.

Fans swarm around the area behind the 18th green, the exit area, and Murray looks for an easy way out. He signs a number of autographs, then tells the fans he'll be right back. They think he's going to the other end of the roped-off area to sign for fans there. Instead, he keeps walking past the scoring trailer and disappears. A few moments later, they see him on the other side of the putting green by the clubhouse, headed for the parking lot. They boo loudly.

Saturday, Pebble Beach

Clowning around on the first tee, Murray tells a huge gathering, "You might as well start drinking now." Murray tosses a banana peel in front of Simpson on the tee. When it's Murray's turn to hit, it's payback time. Simpson, Garcia and Stankowski bombard him with bananas. Murray treats them like live grenades, furiously flinging the bananas into the crowd, even bouncing one off the Pebble Beach Golf Shop entrance sign. It's a reminder that following Murray is like following Tiger Woods. Every round, you see at least one thing you've never seen on a golf course before.

Tour pros have a tough time reaching the par-3 fifth green, but Murray, from the up tees, hits a nice shot onto the middle of the green, 20 feet from the pin. "I'm getting a shot here," Murray tells the fans. "This could be a 1." There's a delay, however, while Stankowski waits for a tour official. His ball has lodged against the grandstand behind the green. The official arrives and shows him where to drop. "Good ruling, sir. Excellent ruling," Murray says. "C'mon, let's all agree with him." The fans applaud. "He's not one of those NFL goofs," Murray says. Stankowski chips onto the green. When he is ready to putt, Murray announces, "All right, Paul, you got a great ruling. The only thing that can stop you now is ... Paul Stankowski." Stankowski misses and takes a bogey. Murray lags his putt close for par (net birdie).

Shot of the day at the 10th: Murray has a 60-foot chip from in front of the green. It hits the hole and rattles out, stopping on the edge of the cup. Murray makes a show of carefully lining up the putt. Garcia gestures as if to indicate it breaks to the right.

Laugh of the day at 15th: Too bad CBS is already off the air. As Murray prepares to tee off, the fans in one grandstand chant, "Dalai!" The fans behind the tee by the 14th green answer, "Lama!" The chants go back and forth for a minute. A surprised Murray cracks up at this Caddyshack-inspired moment. When he finally tees off, he blocks his shot way right, over 17-Mile Drive and into somebody's front yard, out of bounds. The fans chant, "Re-load! Re-load!"

A group of women stand outside the beach club along the par-3 17th as Murray walks to the green. He sees them, starts waving both arms frantically over his head and runs crazily toward them. They respond and do the same. He stops. They stop. He starts again. They meet and have a bouncing, group hug, like wild cheerleaders. In the midst of it, Murray pulls up his shirt and shows off his bare chest. He's still laughing as he rejoins his foursome in front of the green. "I thought maybe we'd all take our shirts off," Murray tells the grandstand fans, "but it didn't happen."

At the 18th green, it's showtime. Murray knows the crowd noise has been bugging serious golfer Garcia for three days, so as Garcia is over the putt Murray says, "C'mon, folks, Hollywood's Andy Garcia." The crowd applauds loudly. When it starts to fade, Murray walks around and urges them on. Garcia pulls out a "Quiet Please" sign he borrowed from a marshal. The gallery laughs. Murray looks around to see what's so funny and spots Garcia's sign. He runs over, grabs the sign and holds it up as he kneels down behind Garcia, whose 15-foot putt lips out. Murray is laughing. "That would've been great," he tells Garcia. "I thought it was in."

Murray introduces Stankowski before Stankowski putts, too. Lots of applause and noise. Garcia holds up his little sign. More laughter. "Wait a minute, Andy," Murray says, "I don't think these people know that Paul is a California boy!" Loud applause. Stankowski putts out. Then it's Simpson's turn. Murray announces him. "Scott is a California boy, too," Murray says. A huge roar. "Southern California," Murray says. The applause turns into boos and catcalls. Murray and Simpson laugh. "No, no. It's all right. He's from San Diego," Murray explains. Back to cheers and applause. Simpson misses his birdie try, then misses a 3-foot putt for par.

Finally, it's Murray's turn. A loudmouth near the top of the grandstand won't be quiet. "Hey!" he shouts. "Hey, Bill!" Murray looks up at him. "Hey!" the guys shouts again. Murray holds his hands out like, What do you want? "Hey, Bill. You know that part in Caddyshack with the flowers? Can you do that?" Murray hangs his head as the gallery falls into laughter. After a pause, Murray picks his head up and curls his lips in the famous Carl Spackler way. "Well, der he is at Pebble Beach," Murray says, eliciting the loudest roar of the week. It takes several moments to die down so he can continue. "Yeah, he's got dis putt to make da cut ... 200 yards away, he chased a little 9-iron up der ... he's gotta make dis putt for da cut... tears in his eyes, I guess ..." He pretends to sob. Then he straightens up and makes his 2-foot putt for a bogey (net par). He and Simpson, in fact, do make the cut. Murray drops his putter and raises his arms in triumph. The place goes up for grabs.

This, folks, is how an actor makes an exit.

Sports Illustrated senior writer Gary Van Sickle writes for the magazine's Golf Plus section and is a regular contributor to CNNSI.com. Click here to send him a question or comment.

 

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