Conditions were so wet and mushy from Friday's downpour that the courses—in particular Spyglass Hill, which even in the best of times can be a sponge farm—became almost impossible to play. Ben Crenshaw was talking to some hapless amateur about it. "He said Spyglass made him feel like he was in an Outward Bound program," Crenshaw reported.
On Saturday, tour officials decided to allow the players to lift, clean and place their balls when on the fairway for the rest of the tournament. This caused another outbreak of dissatisfaction, because it affected players in different ways. Although Zoeller was posting great numbers on the leader board, he was also one of the complainers, primarily because he had played Spyglass on hands-off Thursday. "We slopped through the crap," he said. "Now the other guys get to put the ball in their hands, and that's a two-, three-, maybe a four-shot advantage at Spyglass."
Zoeller attracted some sympathizers—"It stinks," said Craig Stadler—but he lost most of them once they saw his runaway lead.
Meanwhile, Kathryn Crosby's exit from the tournament had little impact last week, other than to force her sons, Nathaniel and Harry, who remain as co-hosts, to answer countless questions about the rift in the family.
The touring pros did not feel any sweet sorrow at the parting. It had bugged them that Kathryn had the final say on the pro-am pairings. Said one pro, "Look at what happened to Fuzzy. He wanted to bring a friend one year and Kathryn said no. He wound up playing with her hairdresser." Zoeller set the record straight. "It was a Crosby family friend who owned half of Mexico," he said. "I don't think he made less than six on a hole. Nice guy, but I think Mexico needs a new handicapping system. He was no 17."
The Crosby boys put the best face on things. The pros were insisting the tournament was the same—"It's still the Crosby to me," said Lee Trevino—and Nathaniel maintained, "I think my dad is here this week."
In four years, the tournament's purse has grown from $330,000 to $660,000.
"We were forced to seek a corporate sponsor to stay competitive," said Harry Crosby. Most PGA Tour events have corporate names in their titles. Arnold Palmer's tournament, for instance, is the Hertz Bay Hill Classic. This year the Bob Hope Classic added Chrysler to its name. When asked why, Hope said, "Two million five," referring to Chrysler's financial contribution.
Summing up, if the C-word was a fight, it was getting one-sided. While Kathryn Crosby boycotted the tournament, hardly anyone else did. Even a longtime family friend, entertainer Phil Harris, was on hand. In fact, George C. Scott, Clint Eastwood—who also announced his candidacy for mayor of Carmel, Calif., last week—and James Garner, three high-powered celebrities who have occasionally skipped past Crosbys, all showed this time. Garner limped around. He has had six knee operations and needs another. "I've had mononucleosis for nine months, so I'm not in very good shape," Garner said. "But I wanted to be here."
Bing Crosby probably would have said the same thing. After all, Bing shared marquees with a lot of people. Everyone is keeping the door open. Said Nathaniel Crosby, "I'm hopeful my father's name can be restored."