Se Ri Pak had won
22 times on the LPGA tour, including four majors, but she'd never jumped for
joy on a golf course. By her own admission, she'd never done much of anything
on a golf course that smacked of joy or even fun. But on Sunday it became clear
that much had changed when, on the first sudden-death hole of the McDonald's
LPGA Championship in Havre de Grace, Md., the rejuvenated Pak leaped into her
caddie T.J. Jones's arms after hitting a hybrid club 201 yards. Pak's shot
skirted the water guarding the 18th green and stopped within four inches of the
cup, leaving her a tap-in birdie. Walking on air, the 28-year-old Pak broke
into a grin that few had ever seen from her on a course. The grande dame of
Korean golf was back.
No one felt that
more keenly than the victim of Pak's heroics, Karrie Webb, another resurgent
veteran who had shot a four-under 68 on Sunday to get into the playoff with
Pak. Winless last season, the 31-year-old Webb was trying to take her second
major championship of 2006 after going four years without one. But Webb, fresh
out of miracle shots, was unable to match Pak's birdie on that first extra
hole. "I was getting a taste of my own medicine," Webb said, referring
to her own jump-for-joy moment, the full wedge that went in for an eagle at the
72nd hole of this year's Kraft Nabisco Championship. "I'm really happy for
Se Ri. After I won Kraft, she gave me a hug and said it was good to see me
playing well and that now it was her turn, she'd win the next one. And then she
went and did it."
Along with Annika
Sorenstam, who tied for ninth at the McDonald's, Webb and Pak dominated women's
golf in the late 1990s, a point driven home last Saturday when the Hall of Fame
trio, which has 122 wins and 21 majors among them, played together in the third
round. But for all the attention that historic grouping stole from the
ballyhooed young guns of the LPGA, especially a certain winless 16-year-old,
you'd have thought that they were named Winken, Blinken and Nod.
It's Michelle
Wie's world now, and the rest of us are just living in it. Wie, who finished
second in this tournament in 2005, last week tied for fifth, two shots out of
the playoff. It was her fifth top five finish in 10 starts in the majors, but
she garnered most of the headlines and attracted the largest crowds, and had
she putted only tolerably well, she could've won by six or seven shots. How
superior was Wie's ball striking? She ranked first in greens in regulation
(80.56%) and was the only player to reach the 596-yard 11th in two. But she was
a fearful 139th in putting, taking a staggering 126 putts over four rounds.
Wie's struggles
with the flat stick actually came to the fore on the Monday of McDonald's week,
when her attempt to become the first woman to qualify for the U.S. Open was
derailed by the 35 putts she needed on her second 18, a round in which she shot
a three-over 75. Wie missed qualifying for Winged Foot by five strokes, and
nearly all of them could be accounted for on the greens.
That trend
continued in the opening round at Bulle Rock, a 6,596-yard Pete Dye design with
subtle undulations on the greens that repeatedly fooled Wie. Since October, in
a laudable effort to become self-reliant, she has been reading putts without
the help of her caddie, Greg Johnston. Last Thursday, Wie missed six putts of
12 feet or less over the first eight holes. "I was ready to yank my hair
out," she said. "I felt as if I played really well but couldn't get
anything going."
Wie salvaged the
round by birdieing three of her last four holes for a respectable 71, but on a
windless day when Nicole Castrale set the course record of 64, it wasn't an
ideal start. Teeing off early on Friday, when the course was soft and the air
calm, Wie built on her momentum, shooting 68 before a thunderstorm blew in and
delayed play for most of the field for five hours. She still needed 30 putts,
however, and could easily have gone three or four shots lower.
David Leadbetter,
Wie's coach, defended her putting stroke, saying that Wie's woes were the
result of switching from the bermuda grass she plays on at home in Hawaii,
where Wie recently finished her junior year at Honolulu's Punahou School, to
the bentgrass of the East. "Even on the PGA Tour players struggle going
from West to East," Leadbetter said. "Her putting stroke is way better
than last year. It's more rhythmic. She has learned to control the speed better
on lag putts. Under pressure that stroke gets a little slower and more
deliberate, and she stands over the ball longer." Leadbetter would like Wie
to pull the trigger in about eight seconds; longer than that and too much
tension builds in her arms. But his charge, said Leadbetter, "has worked
very hard with my wife, Kelly, on developing a consistent routine." In
truth, Wie has two putting routines. From 12 feet and in, which is where she
has the most problems, she steps up to the ball, peeks at the hole twice and
putts without taking any practice strokes. Beyond 12 feet, Wie takes a couple
of practice strokes to get the feel for distance.
Nothing she tried
seemed to work on Sunday, when Wie torpedoed her chances for her first pro win
by taking 35 putts--including a lip-out of a four-footer on 16 that stopped her
closing charge (BIG PLAY, page G18)--while shooting a 72. Wie averaged three
more putts a round than Pak. "I felt as if I hit every single putt where I
wanted to," Wie said. "I felt as if every putt was going to go
in."
Wie's day will
come, but for Pak, who won her first LPGA Championship at age 20 in 1998, the
fear was that her day had come and gone. That year Pak also won the U.S.
Women's Open. One of only two South Koreans on the tour at that time, she
became an overnight icon in Korea, inspiring a generation of young girls to
take up the game. (Thirty-two Koreans are now playing on the LPGA tour.) But
their matriarch became a walking cautionary tale as her early success was
followed by intense loneliness and burnout. When she wasn't playing golf or
practicing golf, she was thinking about golf. Her body breaking down, her
competitive spirit crushed, Pak last year came to a glum realization: "I
hated golf," she says.