of PGA Tour Pros?
NO
I like Tour caddies.
They’re a colorful lot,
always quick with a quip. For the traveling reporter caddies are an indis- pensable resource: They know every good steakhouse, biker bar, strip club, billiards hall, massage parlor and greasy spoon on the PGA Tour circuit. But as much as I treasure these sweaty sherpas as downmarket Zagats, I believe their importance in regard to the competition is wildly overrated. Take Steve Williams. Please.
Tiger Woods’s caddie is best known for growling at fans and strong-arming photographers, but following Woods’s epic 2000 season Williams was actually named “Sportsman of the Year” in his native New Zealand. Sportsman of the year! For being a glorified bellhop! Does anyone out there believe Tiger wouldn’t have won any of those tourna- ments if someone else was shlepping his bag? For decades both the Masters and U.S. Open compelled players to use local caddies, not their regular loopers, and someone managed to still win each of these tournaments. In the old days it was actually plau-
sible that caddies occasionally helped their player, because they were the only support system, a jack-of-all-trades who had to attend to his man’s mind, body and soul. Now, most top players have an entourage to look after them, further marginalizing the caddie. If a player is struggling with his action, he consults his brand-name swing coach, not his caddie. Lacking a little confidence? Pour your heart out to a sports psychologist. Posture not quite right? Bring in the trainer. Got a bad stomach? Dial the nutritionist. Feeling lonely? Call Rachel Uchitel. So what is there left for the caddie to do? Not much, as it turns out. Most players read their own putts, and fancy new devices can be used in practice rounds to reveal the slopes and fall lines of every green. The yardage
guides are mass produced with the use of lasers and GPS, so caddies can no longer claim some sort of unique insti- tutional knowledge. The limited role of the Tour caddie is nicely summarized by their long-standing slogan: “Show up. Keep up. Shut up.” And yet these overpaid bag-toters
still find ways to screw up. Perhaps the defining caddie performance of our time came at the 2001 British Open, at which 43-year old Ian Woosnam was attempting to turn back time with one last career-defining performance. On the first hole of the final round—a par 3 at quirky Royal Lytham and St. Anne’s— Woosie nearly made an ace. His tap-in birdie gave him the outright lead, but it didn’t last long. On the second tee his caddie Miles Byrne, part of a dynastic family of European loopers, handed his boss not a club but rather a famous bit of bad news. “You’re going to go ballistic,” Byrne
said. “Why?” asked Woosnam. “We’ve got two drivers in the bag.” That made for 15 clubs. Two-shot penalty. “At that moment, I felt like I had
been kicked in the teeth,” Woosnam said after his even-par 71 left him tied for third. “I did not really get it out of my head all the way around. I kept think- ing if I hadn’t had a two-shot penalty, I could have been leading or been joint leader. I never shook it off. “Miles thought someone else had taken the driver out of the bag and taken it to the locker room, but it hadn’t happened,” Woosnam added. “There’s two big head covers on there. He should have spotted it.” Woosie made it clear that one of the few things caddies are expected to do is count the clubs before teeing off. “You usually start at one and finish with 14,” he huffed. “I always left it to the caddie. That’s always been his job. It’s the ultimate sin for a caddie. It
is the biggest mistake he will make in his life. He won’t do it again. He’s a good caddie. He will have a severe [talking to] when I get in, but I am not going to sack him.” No, that had to wait for another couple of weeks, after Byrne went AWOL for an early tee time at the Scandinavian Masters. Woosnam was reduced to breaking into his own locker since Byrne had the key with him, wher- ever he was. To truly understand how superflu-
ous Tour caddies are one need look no further than the 1987 Greater Milwau- kee Open. Left in the lurch by his regular looper, journeyman Gary Hallberg pressed his sister Debbie into service. Naturally, he won the tournament, only the second victory of his undistinguished career. Afterward Hallberg cited Debbie as the key to victory, her primary contribution coming on the 71st hole, when she accidentally conked her brother on the head with a 5-iron. “I couldn’t believe it,’’ Hallberg said. “I told her, ‘Debbie, here I am, biggest hole in my life, biggest day of my golfing life, and you hit me in the head.’ But it’s a good thing she hit me. It woke me up. It got me back in the game.’’ He then stepped up and holed a long chip-and- run for the clinching birdie, a nice win for the Hallbergs, a great victory for all of us who consider “professional caddie” to be an oxymoron.
Alan Shipnuck is senior writer for
Sports Illustrated and writes two weekly columns for cnnsi.com.
SPRING 2010 NCGA Golf 23
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