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Edwards keeps fighting Posted: Monday March 31, 2003 3:56 PM
Sports Illustrated senior writer John Garrity was a 42-year-old 8-handicapper when he suddenly lost his swing. Since December 1989 he has been looking for it -- a modern-day Odysseus adrift on the troubled waters of swing theory. As Garrity travels the world reporting on golf, he visits as many driving ranges as he can, avoiding the dreaded "mats only" ranges that prevent him from teeing it up. Thursday, March 20 NEWPORT BEACH, Calif. -- It was nine weeks ago that Bruce Edwards walked out of the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn., staggered by the news that he had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis -- Lou Gehrig's disease. But there he was this morning, caddying for Tom Watson in the pro-am of the Toshiba Senior Classic at Newport Beach Country Club. Edwards had lost about 20 pounds and his speech was a little thick -- gradual loss of the ability to talk is one of the symptoms of ALS -- but his attitude was as remarkably upbeat as it was last week when I visited him at his home in Ponte Vedra Beach, Fla. "I'm in denial," Edwards said. "I have to believe that they're going to find a cure for ALS, a cure that I can use." If they do find a cure in time, Watson will make sure that his caddie of 28 years is among the first to benefit. In recent weeks Watson has contacted researchers and therapists from coast to coast on Edwards' behalf, desperately searching for a treatment regimen or protocol that will buy his friend more time. Watson has also established the Bruce Edwards Trust to help his friend with his hefty medical bills. (Those wishing to make donations can write to the trust at 1901 West 47th Place, Suite 200, Westwood, KS 66205.) "It's great having Tom's name associated with mine," Bruce said. "It opens doors." To the players and caddies of the Champions Tour, of course, Edwards is a special man -- an unusual mix of free spirit and discipline. There was nothing maudlin about his banter with friends as he guided a golf cart past the clubhouse. Lanny Wadkins, the CBS analyst and former Ryder Cup captain, stopped to kid around. Tour veteran Mark McCumber, practicing on the putting green, pretended to be bothered by the well-wishers swarming around Edwards. "Keep it down! Keep it down!" McCumber shouted. Edwards yelled back. "As long as I can talk, it's a good thing!" he said. McCumber grinned. "Keep it up! Keep it up!" he encouraged. Edwards leaned back in the cart. "People wonder how I can carry on, knowing I have ALS," he said. "But if you have the support group I have, it's easy." It is easy, anyway, on these perfect spring days, when birds hop on the branches and freshly mowed grass glistens in the sun. Today, after their round, Edwards and Watson stood under a tree off the second fairway, choosing teams for an NCAA tournament bracket. Detecting a hint of a smile as Watson wrote down their picks, Edwards gave him a baleful look. "I know you, Watson! You know more than you're telling me." Watson, not looking up, conceded that he might have happened by a TV in the locker room, and he might have noticed that Wake Forest, one of Edwards' teams, was trailing by 20 points in its first-round game. "I wasn't going to pick Wake," Watson said, ignoring his caddie's wounded look. In truth, Wake Forest had never trailed by 20 and would eventually win the game. A few minutes later, when Watson told me that his friend getting ALS was "a raw deal," Edwards glowered at him and said, "It's not any rawer than me finding out that Wake Forest is f------ getting beat by 20!" Watson, recognizing the therapeutic value of the needle, grinned broadly. Watch this space for another installment of Mats Only. To send John Garrity advice, share your experiences, or suggest a driving range, click here.
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