Winning A La Cart

In Newsroom lingo the story of Casey Martin v. the PGA Tour has legs. Martin's mother, while working the phones at home in Eugene, Ore., once did 14 interviews in one day. Martin's father, a stockbroker at Smith Barney, has obliged so many reporters that for him the word quote is taking on new meaning. Lawyers for both the Tour and Martin have been besieged. "We certainly have been put on the map the last couple of weeks," says Phyllis Bishoff, a secretary for William Wiswall, one of Martin's attorneys. Through it all, Martin, 25, continues to commit news at speeds of up to 12 mph.

Driving a golf cart, like wearing short pants or carrying 15 clubs, is a no-no on Tour. Martin, whose right leg is withered from Klippel-Trenaunay-Weber syndrome, a congenital circulatory condition, aims to change that. He wants a cart for his rookie season on the Nike tour, and for every season thereafter. The PGA Tour, which governs the Nike, says walking is a fundamental part of its competition. Barring an out-of-court settlement, or a summary judgment for the Tour at a Jan. 26 hearing, the case is scheduled to go to trial on Feb. 2 in U.S. district court in Eugene.

Somehow, when he wasn't busy publicly arguing his case, Martin won the Nike tour's first event of 1998, last week's Lakeland (Fla.) Classic at Grasslands Golf and Country Club. He shot 69 on Sunday to beat Steve Lamontagne by a stroke. The tournament was one of two (the other is this week's South Florida Classic) in which Martin can use a cart, a stipulation that was agreed upon by lawyers for Martin and the Tour. To grasp the improbable nature of the victory, consider that when Martin limped to the 1st tee last Thursday, he was acutely aware that as a result of the controversy surrounding his case, he was about to take the most scrutinized swing of his life. "If you could only know what was going through my head," Martin said. "Don't top it. Don't shank it. Don't shoot 90 with all these people watching."

Martin birdied three of his first four holes on his way to a six-under 66, which put him a shot off the lead. He followed with a 69 and a 65 in the second and third rounds, each of which was played over two days because of inclement weather. He made five birdies and two bogeys on Sunday and took home a first-place check worth $40,500, an excellent start toward his legal bills.

While Martin's victory brought even more attention to his case, and might even win him public support, he isn't the first to bring the cart question to the fore. Charlie Owens, who was injured in a parachuting accident while in the Army, petitioned the USGA for permission to use a cart for the 1987 U.S. Senior Open. Permission was denied, and to protest, Owens walked the first nine holes on crutches before he withdrew. A request by Lee Elder—he suffered a mild heart attack in 1987 and has had physical problems on and off since then—for a cart for the '95 Senior Open was also denied. Martin, however, is taking his fight to court through the Americans with Disabilities Act, giving him something under the hood that neither Owens nor Elder had.

Give the kid a cart and let's play. He's not injured. He's legally disabled.

True, but Owens and his Erector set knees didn't get a cart. Rocco Mediate and his bad back, José María Olazábal and his gimpy foot, they didn't ride. Heck, even Ben Hogan himself could have used a lift. It's a little late to start handing out keys on the 1st tee.

Martin's condition is rare. When he was born, doctors looked at his abnormal right leg and said it looked different because of a birth mark. His parents soon suspected it was more than that because Casey sometimes woke up in the middle of the night crying in pain. Martin was four when the family got an accurate diagnosis. Blood was pooling in his lower right leg, a painful condition that would forever hamper his mobility. Martin was a good shooter for his school basketball team in the sixth and seventh grades but had to constantly ice his knee, where blood would settle, eroding the cartilage. The pain wasn't worth it, and he didn't follow his brother Cameron onto the varsity at South Eugene High. Instead, Martin played the piano. He became a ferocious learner, developing the study habits that would make him a two-time Academic All-America at Stanford as a golfer.

"This is what I've wanted to do since I was a kid," says Martin of a career on Tour. He started playing at age six, sometimes with a splint on his leg. Walking, although painful, was his transportation of choice. At Stanford, where he played from 1990 to '95, Martin competed on foot as a freshman and a sophomore. As a junior, Martin says, the condition worsened. He developed shinsplints and asked for a cart for the '94 NCAA Championship, in McKinney, Texas. The NCAA consented.

Everyone is speaking out in the case of Casey Martin Plaintiff v. the PGA Tour Inc. of Maryland Corporation. Owens showed up for the first round at Lakeland, only 30 miles from his home in Tampa, and introduced himself after Martin teed off on the 11th hole. "That meant a lot to see him," Martin says. "Wow, he's a big, strong guy. He told me walking away, 'It's not how, it's how many.' " Brian Henninger, Peter Jacobsen and Eric Johnson, all fellow pros from Oregon, have also been supportive.