Reilly's Caddy? is a winner

Golf remains the most literary American sport of all, if not the only one. Baseball? You must be joking. After Jim Brosnan and Jim Bouton, it was all downhill.

Back to golf. Sports Illustrated colleague Rick Reilly has written another book. That makes three he's written, two he's read. (Cheap Shot Scorecard: 1.) Seriously, I hate to admit this (on account of Reilly isn't paying me for this review, a seriously stupid oversight on my part), but I was a little disappointed that his new book, Who's Your Caddy?, isn't a novel. Which I discovered after re-reading it. (Cheap Shot Scorecard: 2.)

MAILBAG Now that Steve Flesch has the monkey off his back, who do you consider to be the best players currently on tour without a PGA Tour win? —Gary Brock, Alexandria, Va. Well, one of them's gotta be Annika Sorenstam. She hasn't won diddly-jack on the PGA Tour yet. Also gotta like Chad Campbell, who is top 20 every week, it seems like; Peter Lonard, who shouldn't really count because he has five international wins; Pat Perez, a total birdie machine, and Tag Ridings, mainly because I like his cool name. Publishing one letter about Moe Norman may open the floodgates. Here are a couple of my favorite Moe Norman stories: Moe was in his hospital bed, just waking up from surgery. The doctor, trying to gauge Moe's faculties, asked him where he was. Moe thought for a moment and said, "Sixteenth hole, middle of the fairway." The doctor asked again. Same answer. Turns out Moe was right: The University of Western Ontario hospital was built on the former Hunt Club golf course in London, Ontario, and Moe's bed was where the 16th hole had been! Moe's Achilles' heel was always his putting. At one tournament, he hit the green on a par-3 but then three-putted for bogey. The next day, at the same hole, he was heckled by a fan. Moe ignored him, hit his tee shot, and while the ball was in the air said, "Not putting today." Moe's ball went straight in the hole. —Drew Snelgrove, Toronto Thanks, but I particularly like the tales about Moe pulling out big clumps of Larry's hair. I heard that Lee Elder wanted to either be captain or co-captain of the Presidents Cup team because it was being held in South Africa, and that Jack would have none of it. Is there more to this story? Seems like bad form on Jack's part. —Rich Anderson, Clovis, Calif. I think getting Nicklaus to be captain was a move by the PGA Tour to make it hard for any tour players to say no to making the trip and maybe to give the event more prestige in South Africa and make it more commercially attractive. Because Jack certainly didn't merit a second chance after his team was trampled in Australia the last time the Prez Cup was overseas. When are golf writers going to stop making excuses for the decline of David Duval? Just about everyone has injuries, romantic bumps in the road, cases of golfer's back, dizziness and slumps. Let's call a spade a spade, or maybe I should say a wedge a wedge: Double-D's decline is a result of a few things no one is willing or daring enough to bring up. 1) Now that golf isn't easy for him, he would rather snowboard his way to the lap of luxury. 2) He hasn't been the same since he switched to the "inferior" equipment company. I used to look forward to seeing how many strokes under par he was on tournament days. Now I'm afraid to look at how far back in the running he has slipped. Someone needs to tell him to get his head out of his butt, forget formulating psychologically challenging answers to media questions, switch back to the "superior" equipment company (even if he does use the other's bag), and for God's sake start realizing how lucky he is to be playing the greatest game on earth. —Ralph Charles, Frederick, Md. Don't be shy, Ralph. What are you trying to say about Duval? And, by the way, you're a member of the No Discernible Last Name club even if we include your hometown. What's that all about? What's the deal on this so-called rift between Steve Williams and Tiger Woods, which is based on the fact that Williams apparently convinced his guy to hit driver instead of 3-iron at the Masters? The player is the ultimate decision-maker, not the caddie. I know Tiger paid lip service to that notion after the tournament, but he didn't sound like he meant it. Have any of Woods' victories been attributed to Stevie's brilliant clubbing of his player? Didn't think so. If he doesn't receive credit for Tiger's wins, he shouldn't be blamed for Tiger's losses either. —Kevin Humphreys, Madison, Miss. No rift, big fella. The boss is always allowed to vent on the hired help. Comes with the job. No doubt Tiger wishes he hadn't answered that question quite the way he did, but let's give him a heat-of-the-moment pass ... this time.

I was hoping for maybe a sequel to Missing Links, his novel about the poor muni course schmoes trying to gate-crash the posh country club next door, which, come to think of it, sounds a lot like Reilly's life story now that he's a green-blazered member at the exquisite Castle Pines. (Cheap Shot Scorecard: 2.5.) His new book could've been topical, a hilarious novel about the wacky attempts of a bunch of low-life media types trying to get a female member admitted to a posh country club in Georgia -- say, Augusta National. After a few thousand wisecracks, a romantic rendezvous on the Sarazen Bridge, a submarine in Rae's Creek and a surprise ending about a celebrity's sex-change operation ... bingo! I smell a bad Eddie Murphy movie. Either that, or the pork sandwich I somehow misplaced last week.

Instead, Reilly spent years, if not hours, caddying for various celebrities and writing about the experience. But he didn't land any real celebrities like Corey Feldman, the guy who played the Professor on Gilligan's Island, or Milt Plum. Instead, he looped for some of your favorite golfers (Jack Nicklaus, John Daly, Tom Lehman and David Duval), your favorite Supreme Court visitors (Casey Martin), your favorite Vermont inn owner (Bob Newhart), your favorite boy toy (Donald Trump) and your favorite storyteller (Deepak Chopra). These are among the dozen foolhardy enough to let Reilly paw their Pings.

Enough nouns, already. Let's get back to the cheap shots and sleazy sexual innuendos. (This is People magazine, right?) Here are my top 10 observations, in lieu of an actual book review, of Slick Rick's Who's Your Caddy?

10. It's great light summer reading. I think this says it all: I read the whole book on a recent flight from Pittsburgh to Charlotte. That's 80 minutes flying time, people. Or enough time to peruse Harvey Penick's classic Little Red Book 11 times. All right, I admit it. I skipped the chapter on Deepak Chopra. I'm still trying to figure out what anagram his name is supposed to be. Pork Ed Apache?

9. Just one glitch in this book's concept, Riles. If I don't like the subject or care at all about him or her, I'm probably not interested in your experience with said person. Chopra? Hey, isn't it time to dust the lamp shade? Tommy Aaron? Hey, I'd better check my golf bag and make sure I've got enough divot-fixers for the next round. Duval? Hey, I just read umpteen magazine stories trying to get inside his head and figure out what's wrong with his game. I'm suffering Double-D burnout here.

8. At least one line was funny enough that I thought it was worth the price of admission. Did I mention that I received my copy free from Reilly's publicist? (Cheap Shot Scorecard: 3.5.) So I thought I'd ruin its dramatic effect by running it here. This is from Rick's attempt to caddie for Bob Andrews, who is blind: "We did not do well at first. ... We wouldn't have made the cut at the Suck Invitational." I smell national catchphrase. No, wait. That is the pork.

7. Rating the chapters: Seven winners, two losers, three draws. Most compelling chapter: Daly. Least compelling chapter: Pork Pie Hat or Deepak Chopra or whatever his name is. See, I still don't care.

6. Bonus points to Reilly for breaking the big story that a certain part of Daly's anatomy is biggie-sized. Three demerits -- sorry, not you, Jimmy -- for telling me way, way more than I want to know about Long John.

5. When Reilly showed up at the fabulous SI rental house at the Masters with free copies of his new book -- yes, I scored two, which is much like extending your stay an extra night at the Oshkosh Ramada Inn (Cheap Shot Scorecard: 4.5) -- I ragged on him about the title. This, after it took me half a day to get it. Two demerits -- no, still not you, Jimmy -- to me for being denser than, uh, a thing that's, um, like, really thick. I'm sure the title seemed like a good idea three years ago, but I'm afraid the 15 minutes has run out on the phrase Who's your daddy?

Alternative title suggestions (since I'm known for being so doggone constructive in my criticism): a) Drink More Coke (high commercial endorsement tie-in potential!); b) Whaddya Mean You Don't Wanna Read a Book About Deepak Chopra Being a Total Chop?; c) Jaws by Peter Benchley (trust me on this one, buddy); d) How About A Little Somethin' For the Effort, Lama? (OK, too obvious); e) Free Gift With Purchase of This Book (sounds like a winner to me); f) No, That's Not Skeletor on the Book Cover, You Dolt -- That's Me, Rick Reilly. Honest! (too wordy).

4. Not to be critical or anything, Riles, but it sounds like you're really not much of a caddie. You talked to Aaron's ball? You didn't clean the grooves on Daly's club? You didn't remember to carry a wet towel to clean Martin's ball? You actually told Lehman on a putt, "Don't leave it short"? Ouch.

3. The bit about Trump is a scream. Love that chapter. It ranks No. 2, quality-wise, behind the Daly chapter. The Donald ought to hate it because it makes him look like a total megalomaniac. But a fake $5 bill says Trump doesn't get it and winds up loving it because the whole chapter is about him ... him ... HIM! I think he's funding a sitcom on this chapter -- Everybody Loves Trump. Are you in, baby, or are you out?

2. Duval played a joke on you and made you sweat, brother. Duval just moved up another 12 spots in my favorite tour pro interview rankings. You were so nailed.

1. Good news. Who's Your Caddy? made the cut at the Suck Invitational. My official grade: A-. Too many mentions of pork, not enough about Bill Murray. Also, when I got off my flight after reading your book ... I was in Charlotte. Very funny.

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

 

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