Notes and quotes from Sawgrass

I played TPC of Sawgrass exactly one time, about a dozen years ago. It was early February and, as Jacksonville can be that time of year, friggin cold. We were bundled up and wearing club covers as gloves to try to keep the frost-bite away. By the time we hit the famed #17, all we wanted to do was get to the clubhouse. I jumped out of the golf car, threw a ball on the ground and smacked an 8-iron to about six feet from the pin. Being half brain-dead from the cold, I didn’t give a thought to the putt and actually knocked it in. Thus, I birdied the “most famous hole in golf” on route to carding a 128 or something like that. I’ve decided that I’ll never play there again, therefore ensuring that I have a lifetime scoring average of 2.0 on this ball-eating monster. So I got that goin’ for me … which is nice.

This experience, of course, makes me an expert on Sawgrass and its claim to fame, The Players Championship. So, I watched the tournament with interest this weekend (for about 7 minutes, in between NCAA games) and followed the news of the event closely (well, I Googled some stuff this morning) to glean the following notes, quotes and observations about the Tour’s championship event:

Could be worse: The worst score shot on #17 by the millionaire Tour guys for the week was a 9 or something (see, I really don’t do research). That seems bad, but put it in the context of one Angelo Spagnolo, and it’s practically an ace. Mr. Spagnolo, a plumber competing in something called “America’s Worst Avid Golf Contest,” managed to card a 66 on Pete Dye’s nasty little gem. He put 27 balls in the water before event officials demanded that he putt the ball around the hole and over the walkway leading out to the island. Hence, the nickname for the walkway: Angelo’s Alley.

Too much information: Rory Sabbatini, the guy who blew a fuse while playing with the slow-as-molasses Ben Crane last year, was paired with Nick Faldo on Friday and was once again chagrined by Faldo’s deliberate pace. After the group was put on the clock by officials, Sabbatini pointed several times at his wife who was wearing a tee shirt that said, “Keep Up!”, an obvious reference to the pace of play issue. Pretty funny, huh?  But, not nearly as funny as Faldo’s quip about the shirt later: "It's very embarrassing for them to bring their sexual problems to the course."

There’s a fine line between great priorities and pure insanity: Stephen Ames’ victory automatically puts the 41-year-old into the field for The Masters.  But, as of now, he’s not planning to go to Augusta. Why? It’s spring break week for his kids and they already have vacation plans. Great role model or complete bonehead? You decide.

Frankie vs. Johnny: I adore Frank Hannigan, the former USGA honcho turned broadcaster and writer.  He wrote a marvelously scathing piece on Golf Observer (http://www.golfobserver.com/features/Hannigan/NBC_032306.html) over the weekend that skewers Mr. Grain on the Brain as well as others from NBC’s goofy TV team. Here’s a sample: “Is there a more annoying verbal tic in all of broadcasting than Johnny Miller's saying "Huh, Rog?', "Huh Gary", "Huh, Mark?"  It's like being in the first row center as a hunk of chalk screeches down a blackboard.”

More frankly speaking: Hannigan on the proliferation of swing experts who now appear on broadcasts:  “The truth though is what Jay Haas once said to me: that if you froze the swing at impact and told the technical surgeons to announce where the ball is going they wouldn't have a clue. Instead, what you get is "That's goin’ right, huh Rog?" That's because the player has recoiled to his left. We don't need a $60,000 a week guy to tell us that.”

Major pain: Once again, we had to suffer through a week of discussion about the Players being “golf’s fifth major.” Personally, I view the event as the annoying little brother who’s constantly whining and trying to tag along with his four confident and successful big brothers. Cute, but annoying. If the Tour would quit trying to “position” so much, and just let the event speak for itself for a few more years, it might happen. But, as long as they have to tell people they’re a major, they aren’t.

 That’s all for now folks.  Talk to you in a couple of weeks following a real major…that little event down in Georgia. By the way, my prediction: The boys down at Augusta will be scrambling around trying to find a size XXXL green jacket for Big John Daly. Hey, it could happen!