I used to go on Youtube, type in "Adam Scott/swing," and then be mesmerized watching his gorgeous swing about five times in slow motion. I woud then get my 7-iron and stand in front of a mirror trying to mimic his incredible mechanics.
Recently, not so much.
Honestly, what happened to this guy? Wasn't it just a few years ago that he was seen as Tiger's biggest challenger? I may sound pessimistic now, but my optimism was once unending for Scott and it has never paid off. In fact, I have defended him, chose him in my online Fantasy Golf, and received no pay-off. There was something extremely likable and inspiring about him, probably his intense gaze as he held his picture-perfect finish. But beyond that gaze and his alluring Rolex commercials, what went wrong? Throughout the last five years it was obvious that he had length, had accuracy, and had the drive, but that his putting was his primary Achilles heal. But as one of his greatest supporters, I figured that considering his profession was excelling at the highest level in the game of golf that he would find a productive route to extinguish his putting woes and gradually improve those skills through both his technique and his touch.
I have been patient, but don't know how much more patience I have. Today Scott ranks #99 on the PGA Tour--a shame to his name-- after spending multiple years ranked in the top-10 and considered an intimidating, talented player. Only in the categories of 'Driving distance' (#39) and 'Total driving' (#99) is Scott ranked in the top-100 on the PGA Tour. But these don't concern me as much as the most important stats on tour: 'Putting' (#183) and 'Birdies' (#136).
The two major differences between solid amateur players and PGA Tour professionals is without a doubt the disparity on and around the greens. Reasons behind this are wide and diverse, but the point is that for a long time Scott's driving and iron game appeared like that of a PGA pro and his putting that of an amateur. However, in this 2009 season, he just looked like an amateur. He became the player on television that I would watch hit balls OB, miss three-footers, and hit it to the front of the green on a tucked back pin, and make me think to myself, "Well I could do that. Can I play on the PGA Tour?"
And you know what else I could do like Adam Scott--miss cuts for majors. In 2009, Scott missed the cut for the British Open, Masters, and PGA Championship. I am aware that the major courses are the most difficult on tour, not just because of the arduous conditions, but mainly because players are inundated with unrelenting pressure surrounding the event. But these are also the events that call for a distinct kind of preparation--mentally and physically. Some players emerge during majors with a unique sense of motivation and desire. There is something palpably different about the way these players watch their ball drop in the hole or stride across the fairway during majors--they rise to the occasion. And while I personally noticed these qualities flare up in players like Sean O'Hair, Kenny Perry, and Hunter Mahan, Scott seemed unaware that these events were at the foundation of the PGA's historical significance.
Maybe this was a rebuilding year for Scott. Perhaps he had an injury that inhibited his capacity to do anything worthy of acclaim. Whatever it was, 2009 was flat-out rough for Adam Scott. And as negative as I have been, and as depressed as Scott's play has made me, I hope Scott has not forgot that he has the potential to be the best player in the world.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
FedEx Cup a bust, PGA Tour earnings getting ridiculous
Mickleson responded to a reporter with a tragic, but hilarious, comment after his victory this past weekend at the Tour Championship. "Ya sure I am happy that I won, but I'm walking out of here with $3 million and Tiger is leavin' with $10 million--how does that make sense?" Though the sarcasm was palpable in his tone, so was the bitterness regarding his payoff from the FedEx Cup system.
The truth is that Tiger did have an incredible year and may just be both the Player of the Year, as well as the Comeback Player of the Year. His scoring average was just under 69, not too shabby. He won six times in 17 events, and only had 14 top-tens; once more, not too shabby. But these are major golf feats that the public recognizes and hails him for. However, those 17 events of brilliance and gripping, almost chilling, play produced earnings of $10,508,163. After the Tour Championship, he continued his reign as the FedEx Cup champ, adding another $10 million to a season that he personally found to be 'below par' because of his bad luck at majors, or as we all saw it--the yips with the putter.
My point: is this FedEx Cup system working? Personally, the only thing I like about the system is the commercial it produced with Paul Casey, Ernie Els, Anthony Kim, Heath Slocum and Vijay Singh in which they attempt to act and praise the 'extraodinarily competitive element' that the system has added to the PGA Tour. But beyond that-- I just find the system extraodinarily confusing. These guys get points for placing well in events over the span of the season: simple enough. Then the last few events of the season become exclusive, including only the top-30 point getters: Alright, still relatively simple. But then within those 30 players, the points reset for the last few events? Or is it that anyone of those 30 can win the $10 million? Or is it by ranking? Confusing much?
The dewy, plush fairways and slippery, undulating greens were enough for Jones, Hagan, Nicklaus, and Palmer, so why isn't it enough for today's star golfers? Why do they need this system?
Well, while the system may be an attempt to equal the playing field, Tiger continues to trounce any hopes of golfers not named after an aggressive, intimidating animal. Not only that, but the money aspect of this system is simply ridiculous. Personally, I am a student in the public University of California school system and as I read, shout and protest about the million and billion dollar deficits of my school system and of the state of California, Tiger just made $20 million in less than eight months. To quote a favorite movie of mine: "How do you like dem' apples?" I'm not asking him to give my school a share of his earnings, but I am asking that this system be reformed to make sense in this dwindling, beaten-down, barely breathing economy.
I love the game, idolize the sweet swing of Els, and the gritty play of Mickleson down the stretch, but I am becoming bitter about the pay-off these guys get for spending four days playing golf. Don't get me wrong, I am aware of the intense physical and mental strain that the game of golf requires. But honestly, Fred Couples played in 15 events this year, that's 60 days of golf--he earned $1,191,060.
Is this a product of the FedEx Cup system, the PGA Tour as a whole, or simply the wealthy nature that is the game of golf?
The truth is that Tiger did have an incredible year and may just be both the Player of the Year, as well as the Comeback Player of the Year. His scoring average was just under 69, not too shabby. He won six times in 17 events, and only had 14 top-tens; once more, not too shabby. But these are major golf feats that the public recognizes and hails him for. However, those 17 events of brilliance and gripping, almost chilling, play produced earnings of $10,508,163. After the Tour Championship, he continued his reign as the FedEx Cup champ, adding another $10 million to a season that he personally found to be 'below par' because of his bad luck at majors, or as we all saw it--the yips with the putter.
My point: is this FedEx Cup system working? Personally, the only thing I like about the system is the commercial it produced with Paul Casey, Ernie Els, Anthony Kim, Heath Slocum and Vijay Singh in which they attempt to act and praise the 'extraodinarily competitive element' that the system has added to the PGA Tour. But beyond that-- I just find the system extraodinarily confusing. These guys get points for placing well in events over the span of the season: simple enough. Then the last few events of the season become exclusive, including only the top-30 point getters: Alright, still relatively simple. But then within those 30 players, the points reset for the last few events? Or is it that anyone of those 30 can win the $10 million? Or is it by ranking? Confusing much?
The dewy, plush fairways and slippery, undulating greens were enough for Jones, Hagan, Nicklaus, and Palmer, so why isn't it enough for today's star golfers? Why do they need this system?
Well, while the system may be an attempt to equal the playing field, Tiger continues to trounce any hopes of golfers not named after an aggressive, intimidating animal. Not only that, but the money aspect of this system is simply ridiculous. Personally, I am a student in the public University of California school system and as I read, shout and protest about the million and billion dollar deficits of my school system and of the state of California, Tiger just made $20 million in less than eight months. To quote a favorite movie of mine: "How do you like dem' apples?" I'm not asking him to give my school a share of his earnings, but I am asking that this system be reformed to make sense in this dwindling, beaten-down, barely breathing economy.
I love the game, idolize the sweet swing of Els, and the gritty play of Mickleson down the stretch, but I am becoming bitter about the pay-off these guys get for spending four days playing golf. Don't get me wrong, I am aware of the intense physical and mental strain that the game of golf requires. But honestly, Fred Couples played in 15 events this year, that's 60 days of golf--he earned $1,191,060.
Is this a product of the FedEx Cup system, the PGA Tour as a whole, or simply the wealthy nature that is the game of golf?
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Struggling LPGA Tour explores routes for positive change
I don't know how to react anymore to these reoccurring headlines appearing on the internet golf sites that another LPGA sponsor has dropped their support. Finding an answer to why this has been a consistent issue appears simple to some and like finding your way out of a labyrinth to others. Economic downturn? Over-emphasis on the PGA Tour? Sexist attitudes invading the realm of golf? Whatever it is, this is a habit benefitting no one.
Personally, I have nothing against the LPGA. In fact, I appreciate and captivated when watching the talented, passionate golfers of the LPGA. However, I also admit that while I preach about enjoying women's golf, I don't follow their events closely by any means. For example, sometimes I'll be online exploring the worldwide web and have the epiphany that its Thursday and will instantly open a new tab and relish in ESPN's coverage of the current PGA event. Why don't I don't feel compelled to, or even think about, the women's event being played?
Does anyone else understand where I am coming from?
Aside from the hype regarding Michelle Wie a few years ago that never quite came to fruition, the dominance of Annika and the present command of the game by Lorena Ochoa, I am oblivious to the state of the LPGA Tour. Scratch that: I am oblivious to it aside from the incessant, depressing news updates like that the 'Kingsmill sponsor has just pulled out.'
A few weeks ago I read about a LPGA Tour player/model who has been taking modeling photos with golf clubs in hand, leaning on her golf bag, or with something golf-related in the background. She feels that this will boost viewers desire to stay connected to the state of the LPGA Tour. Another piece of news that caught my attention was the proposal that just like at baseball game's when players march up to the plate a song of their choosing is played in the background, so too should LPGA players have their own song played on the 1st tee and as they stroll up the 18th. This idea is meant to lure in viewers by sending a personal message from the players to the audience. Not bad in my opinion, but then again, it totally puts into question the tradition and etiquette that golf is based on. However, sometimes respect for tradition needs to be overlooked because a desparate situation like this requires change of the status quo.
There may be no correct route, but that also means that the LPGA Tour is bound by nothing. This may be he most exciting time for the LPGA in its history because they have the opportunity to experiment with diverse paths of alluring an apathetic audience. There is no doubt that this is an overwhelming and scary task, but hopefully it will be pursued by a passionate group of LPGA supporters compelled to revamp and redefine the temptation and caliber of womens golf.
Personally, I have nothing against the LPGA. In fact, I appreciate and captivated when watching the talented, passionate golfers of the LPGA. However, I also admit that while I preach about enjoying women's golf, I don't follow their events closely by any means. For example, sometimes I'll be online exploring the worldwide web and have the epiphany that its Thursday and will instantly open a new tab and relish in ESPN's coverage of the current PGA event. Why don't I don't feel compelled to, or even think about, the women's event being played?
Does anyone else understand where I am coming from?
Aside from the hype regarding Michelle Wie a few years ago that never quite came to fruition, the dominance of Annika and the present command of the game by Lorena Ochoa, I am oblivious to the state of the LPGA Tour. Scratch that: I am oblivious to it aside from the incessant, depressing news updates like that the 'Kingsmill sponsor has just pulled out.'
A few weeks ago I read about a LPGA Tour player/model who has been taking modeling photos with golf clubs in hand, leaning on her golf bag, or with something golf-related in the background. She feels that this will boost viewers desire to stay connected to the state of the LPGA Tour. Another piece of news that caught my attention was the proposal that just like at baseball game's when players march up to the plate a song of their choosing is played in the background, so too should LPGA players have their own song played on the 1st tee and as they stroll up the 18th. This idea is meant to lure in viewers by sending a personal message from the players to the audience. Not bad in my opinion, but then again, it totally puts into question the tradition and etiquette that golf is based on. However, sometimes respect for tradition needs to be overlooked because a desparate situation like this requires change of the status quo.
There may be no correct route, but that also means that the LPGA Tour is bound by nothing. This may be he most exciting time for the LPGA in its history because they have the opportunity to experiment with diverse paths of alluring an apathetic audience. There is no doubt that this is an overwhelming and scary task, but hopefully it will be pursued by a passionate group of LPGA supporters compelled to revamp and redefine the temptation and caliber of womens golf.
Friday, February 6, 2009
What lies within
Its been raining here the last few days and all I've wanted to do is go play golf. I guess NorCal isn't as ideal for hitting the links at any time of year as SoCal. The weather has been a barrier. I miss the game. I miss the feeling it gives me; putting, pummeling a drive, staring into the distance at the pin position, watching my competitors focus, analyzing my shots, fixing my problems, persisting through difficulty, and winning/being the best. And yet through my daydreams of hitting 8-irons stiff and colossal drives that split plush, green-blue fairways, I see Tiger's swing in slow motion, hitting a ball into an endless abyss as rain drops fall, determined to bring down his ball, and then as the ball takes off, Tiger answers-- "There are no rainy days."
It may be a testament to the arrogance that I have been told I carry (though I refuse to admit to), but on the golf course I always believe I can play with the best. Though I consider myself a good student, or perhaps a good speaker, I don't think I go into anything in my life with as much confidence as I did when I was on the golf course competing for ultimate victory. What does that mean? I can't say. I just miss the game.
For most adult golfers, the driving range a few times a month is the most golf they see, with an actual round with some work buddies or family occasionally. However, I grew up in the generation of Tiger Woods; this is the player the reinvented the concepts of practice, dedication and dominance. As a young boy, I watched Tiger lure massive crowds as he led the field, in the blistering red that kept his competitors up at night wondering how they could reach his level of excellence. What was burned into my brain from an early age, partially from my family's upbringing, but mainly from Tiger's work ethic, was simply that no one is perfect, which means striving for perfection is an endless pursuit. While that fact discouraged some of my friends in the classroom, on the basketball court, or golf course, the idea sparked a flame within me that still burns bright until this day, regardless of the persistent efforts of the outside world to put out that flame, just as the dark clouds try to cover city lights.
I practiced golf without end during high school. The privilege of finance, location, and support gave me the opportunity to play at the highest level, which I will forever be proud of doing for some time. Between local tournaments, high school matches, and national and international events, I was immersed in the junior golf scene, or so I thought. Though I received a scholarship to Pitzer College of the prestigious Claremont Colleges to play golf, I was accepted to the University of California, Berkeley, and was attracted to just about every aspect of the atmosphere of the school, except for the fact that I was not guaranteed a place on their golf team. I contacted the Cal Golf Team, met with the Assistant to the Coach, and from this active effort, there was hope on the horizon. I was told that when I attended Berkeley, I would be given the opportunity to try out second semester (it had to be second semester because I was admitted to a program that prohibited the play of student-athletes because of NCAA rules). However, between my lack of transportation to get the golf course, lack of money, and lack of time to practice, my game faltered, even though my passion for the game was still as strong as it had been the first time I hit a ball straight and in the air. When I was told the team did not have space for more players and that second semester try-outs would be postponed until the beginning of the next year, instead of getting down, I saw this as an opportunity to get my game back over summer. Through competition and endless practice, within 3 months I was playing the best golf of my life. Yet with high expectation, there is often disappointment.
I was told the team would not need to have try-outs again because they had enough guys. As tears rolled down my eyes from a summer entirely devoted to the belief that my dedication to a dream would at least give me a chance to compete, I chose to not let down. In the first two weeks of the new semester, I competed in a tournament that was specifically located in the Berkeley area, thus it was a perfect opportunity for me to put my skills against the other Cal players and show the coaches I deserved a spot on the team, or at the least a chance to prove myself. With scores of 72, 73 in two days and a top-ten finish, I beat four of the six Cal players that had entered into the tournament.
"There are no rainy days."
I stormed into the golf coach's office and told him of my finish, demanding that I deserve a chance to play on the team. When I look back at his reasons for not letting me even try out, I usually get the chills, and my eyes begin to water. But just before I give into tears of depression and utter confusion, oddly and almost as if caught in a dream that recalled the distant past, I feel the sensation of a lightness in my fingertips. Then as if a tidal wave that covers my body from head to toe, that lightness becomes a sweet memory of a pured, true, committed golf shot, which vibrates throughout my entire body.
These days, I can't walk by a blade of grass without looking at it and needing to stop for a moment just to bask in the memory of a past golf shot I've hit off similar textured grass. I feel bad for people walking with me who, often deep in conversation, realize I have stopped 10 feet behind them and am totally silent, clutching my hands together to form the inter-lock grip.
I miss the game.
It may be a testament to the arrogance that I have been told I carry (though I refuse to admit to), but on the golf course I always believe I can play with the best. Though I consider myself a good student, or perhaps a good speaker, I don't think I go into anything in my life with as much confidence as I did when I was on the golf course competing for ultimate victory. What does that mean? I can't say. I just miss the game.
For most adult golfers, the driving range a few times a month is the most golf they see, with an actual round with some work buddies or family occasionally. However, I grew up in the generation of Tiger Woods; this is the player the reinvented the concepts of practice, dedication and dominance. As a young boy, I watched Tiger lure massive crowds as he led the field, in the blistering red that kept his competitors up at night wondering how they could reach his level of excellence. What was burned into my brain from an early age, partially from my family's upbringing, but mainly from Tiger's work ethic, was simply that no one is perfect, which means striving for perfection is an endless pursuit. While that fact discouraged some of my friends in the classroom, on the basketball court, or golf course, the idea sparked a flame within me that still burns bright until this day, regardless of the persistent efforts of the outside world to put out that flame, just as the dark clouds try to cover city lights.
I practiced golf without end during high school. The privilege of finance, location, and support gave me the opportunity to play at the highest level, which I will forever be proud of doing for some time. Between local tournaments, high school matches, and national and international events, I was immersed in the junior golf scene, or so I thought. Though I received a scholarship to Pitzer College of the prestigious Claremont Colleges to play golf, I was accepted to the University of California, Berkeley, and was attracted to just about every aspect of the atmosphere of the school, except for the fact that I was not guaranteed a place on their golf team. I contacted the Cal Golf Team, met with the Assistant to the Coach, and from this active effort, there was hope on the horizon. I was told that when I attended Berkeley, I would be given the opportunity to try out second semester (it had to be second semester because I was admitted to a program that prohibited the play of student-athletes because of NCAA rules). However, between my lack of transportation to get the golf course, lack of money, and lack of time to practice, my game faltered, even though my passion for the game was still as strong as it had been the first time I hit a ball straight and in the air. When I was told the team did not have space for more players and that second semester try-outs would be postponed until the beginning of the next year, instead of getting down, I saw this as an opportunity to get my game back over summer. Through competition and endless practice, within 3 months I was playing the best golf of my life. Yet with high expectation, there is often disappointment.
I was told the team would not need to have try-outs again because they had enough guys. As tears rolled down my eyes from a summer entirely devoted to the belief that my dedication to a dream would at least give me a chance to compete, I chose to not let down. In the first two weeks of the new semester, I competed in a tournament that was specifically located in the Berkeley area, thus it was a perfect opportunity for me to put my skills against the other Cal players and show the coaches I deserved a spot on the team, or at the least a chance to prove myself. With scores of 72, 73 in two days and a top-ten finish, I beat four of the six Cal players that had entered into the tournament.
"There are no rainy days."
I stormed into the golf coach's office and told him of my finish, demanding that I deserve a chance to play on the team. When I look back at his reasons for not letting me even try out, I usually get the chills, and my eyes begin to water. But just before I give into tears of depression and utter confusion, oddly and almost as if caught in a dream that recalled the distant past, I feel the sensation of a lightness in my fingertips. Then as if a tidal wave that covers my body from head to toe, that lightness becomes a sweet memory of a pured, true, committed golf shot, which vibrates throughout my entire body.
These days, I can't walk by a blade of grass without looking at it and needing to stop for a moment just to bask in the memory of a past golf shot I've hit off similar textured grass. I feel bad for people walking with me who, often deep in conversation, realize I have stopped 10 feet behind them and am totally silent, clutching my hands together to form the inter-lock grip.
I miss the game.
Friday, January 9, 2009
After the 'Big Easy,' Ernie Els, had his -5 par round of 68 posted at the opening event of the 2009 PGA Tour season, he found time to speak with an on-site announcer about some of the 'young guns' rallying huge crowds and creating major fervor in Tiger's absence. Guys like Camillo Villegas, Anthony Kim, Sergio Garcia and Trevor Immelman held the spotlight in the conversation, considering each player remains under 30 with at least one big win last year. Though Villegas had won three tournaments, Garcia winning the Players Championship, and Immelman taking home the magnificent Masters, the announcer believed Anthony Kim was without a doubt the shining star of the group, considering his two on tour victories and his integral role in the sensational Ryder Cup rally to win. This idea is in no way unheard of. Throughout the golf world, between announcers at events to conversations at muni courses, Anthony Kim has found his niche as the TOC (topic of discussion). Whether its his ball-striking, simple, but pure putting stroke, or his confidence in pressure situations, Kim has without a doubt made himself a key contender in every tournament he enters, which sounds a lot like a guy I've heard of...
Although, while the excitement of the 'young guns' remains centered around AK, Els believes Trevor Immelman will without a doubt lead the way in the 2009 season among the upcoming PGA Tour players. His contention: Immelman has captured one of the toughest feats on the tour--a major. Els chose his words cautiously, not forgetting to mention how talented these young players are. However, the 'Big Easy' found Immelman to be the easy and most realistic answer, thus the catalyst for a question: if a young guy wins a Major, does that qualify him for the status of the 'next up and comer,' the 'next Tiger', or possibly even the 'next legend'?
Though I have nothing against Immelman, from my point of view, the fact that he hasn't done much of anything worth mentioning since the Master's makes him unworthy of such a glorified reputation that Els was so quick to label him with. Players like Kim and Villegas played consistently well throughout the year; note the root word 'consistent.' Top tens, leading stats in GIR or least putts per round, and especially multiple wins, are the kinds of actions and events that make truly great players warrant great reputations. I just can't honestly say Immelman has captured my respect like the way other young players on the tour have and until he does, he will remain in the category where guys like Ben Curtis and Chad Campell are--the "Who knows how they won a major?" category.
Although, while the excitement of the 'young guns' remains centered around AK, Els believes Trevor Immelman will without a doubt lead the way in the 2009 season among the upcoming PGA Tour players. His contention: Immelman has captured one of the toughest feats on the tour--a major. Els chose his words cautiously, not forgetting to mention how talented these young players are. However, the 'Big Easy' found Immelman to be the easy and most realistic answer, thus the catalyst for a question: if a young guy wins a Major, does that qualify him for the status of the 'next up and comer,' the 'next Tiger', or possibly even the 'next legend'?
Though I have nothing against Immelman, from my point of view, the fact that he hasn't done much of anything worth mentioning since the Master's makes him unworthy of such a glorified reputation that Els was so quick to label him with. Players like Kim and Villegas played consistently well throughout the year; note the root word 'consistent.' Top tens, leading stats in GIR or least putts per round, and especially multiple wins, are the kinds of actions and events that make truly great players warrant great reputations. I just can't honestly say Immelman has captured my respect like the way other young players on the tour have and until he does, he will remain in the category where guys like Ben Curtis and Chad Campell are--the "Who knows how they won a major?" category.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
harsh truth up to interpretation?
It was just another day. I opened up my Macbook, logged into ESPN.com, the golf section that is, and saw displayed across the page Justin Rose as a 17-year old amateur at the British Open in '98. The article didn't grab me because, well, even though Rose has been in contention a variety of times in the last ten years, I feel like he hasn't done anything of true value to affect his status on the tour.
I have no desire to discuss my pet peeves with Mr. Rose, but instead to simply mention an observation I came to as I viewed the day's top stories. "Creamer shoots 60..." Now, lets just be honest, whether its the PGA's biggest name like Tiger Woods or a never heard of like Garrett Willis, when a man shoots anything under 65 (6 or 7 under par) they're picture is flaunted about the site. Below their picture is often a story about now just their round, but about their modest upbringing and how lucky they feel just to be playing the game, as if a monument should be erected for them. Sometimes they just make a mountain out of a molehill.
However, other times, some stories just don't get their due.
Of course Paula Creamer got a story written about her, and she even got a minute long video showing her make a mockery the par-71 Highland Meadows layout Thursday in the opening round of the Jamie Farr Owens Corning Classic. She set a course record, shot 11-under, and did it all with a pink ball.
Is there a sexist attitude embedded in golf that finds its way above the surface occasionally?
The way I see it, the wide and diverse aspects that make up American lifestyle are male dominated, which has ultimately created a patriarchy. Sports is one of those sections within our society that preaches equality and fair press for each gender within the sport, but realistically, we all know the truth. I'm not trying to start a controversy or expose some tremendous flaw in the golf section of ESPN.com. However, I think it is important to be fair and in this particular case, I don't think fairness is subjective or up to interpretation. Creamer performed beautifully and yet is only receiving second class coverage of what would be hailed as an unbelievable feat among the males on the PGA Tour.
Truth: There are multiple perspectives through which one could view this issue. Truth: Ochoa and/or Sorenstam have received considerable coverage on not only the golf site of ESPN.com, but on the worldwide golf scene, comparing their abilities and successes with great male performers like Tiger and Phil. Bitter Truth: The lack of attention being paid to Creamer's remarkable round exposed the harsh, sexist attitudes rooted in 'the greatest game ever played.'
I have no desire to discuss my pet peeves with Mr. Rose, but instead to simply mention an observation I came to as I viewed the day's top stories. "Creamer shoots 60..." Now, lets just be honest, whether its the PGA's biggest name like Tiger Woods or a never heard of like Garrett Willis, when a man shoots anything under 65 (6 or 7 under par) they're picture is flaunted about the site. Below their picture is often a story about now just their round, but about their modest upbringing and how lucky they feel just to be playing the game, as if a monument should be erected for them. Sometimes they just make a mountain out of a molehill.
However, other times, some stories just don't get their due.
Of course Paula Creamer got a story written about her, and she even got a minute long video showing her make a mockery the par-71 Highland Meadows layout Thursday in the opening round of the Jamie Farr Owens Corning Classic. She set a course record, shot 11-under, and did it all with a pink ball.
Is there a sexist attitude embedded in golf that finds its way above the surface occasionally?
The way I see it, the wide and diverse aspects that make up American lifestyle are male dominated, which has ultimately created a patriarchy. Sports is one of those sections within our society that preaches equality and fair press for each gender within the sport, but realistically, we all know the truth. I'm not trying to start a controversy or expose some tremendous flaw in the golf section of ESPN.com. However, I think it is important to be fair and in this particular case, I don't think fairness is subjective or up to interpretation. Creamer performed beautifully and yet is only receiving second class coverage of what would be hailed as an unbelievable feat among the males on the PGA Tour.
Truth: There are multiple perspectives through which one could view this issue. Truth: Ochoa and/or Sorenstam have received considerable coverage on not only the golf site of ESPN.com, but on the worldwide golf scene, comparing their abilities and successes with great male performers like Tiger and Phil. Bitter Truth: The lack of attention being paid to Creamer's remarkable round exposed the harsh, sexist attitudes rooted in 'the greatest game ever played.'
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
its been a while...
Lets get away from the pros for a moment and discuss what's going on with our game specifically.
Tonight, as I stood over my ball, eight-iron in hand, with the lights from the driving range post sending my left-handed shadow straight over my ball, I wondered what 'the range' means for the different people there, and what it meant to me as well. Maybe for some a refuge that allowed them to stash their worries about the miserable economy and rising gas prices at the bottom of their bags. For others it could provide a sense of seriousness, in which they tested their abilities; hitting to 100, then 125, then 150 yards. Then of course there are those who spend their time as they would at the church, temple, mosque...They're praying. Praying their ball goes straight. Praying they don't lose their balance. Praying they don't let go of the club after swinging and being the idiot that threw his club into the range.
For me: a test, a safe haven, and a temple all in one. Praying that I can hit my target, I take a sigh of relief (that I am away from sibling rivalry, yelling kids at work, girl drama, money issues) and then view my target and test myself . I hit pretty well tonight to be honest. Good wedges, long irons mostly straight with good distance. Long, controlled drives. However, with one last ball left, I stepped up to my favorite shot: 125 yards away, a slight breeze in my face, middle pin. I was no longer at the range. In my mind, I told myself I was at the Masters about to hit my approach shot onto 18. I was the 'out-of-nowhere' kid, a fairytale story about to win my first Masters. I could hear the commentators in mind. "All Leivenberg needs here is to hit it safe into the middle of the green and he will have secured his win."
I did my normal pre-shot routine. Stood behind the ball for a moment, looking from my ball to my target a few times. I stepped up, spread each foot apart, checking my aim meticulously. I took my final waggle, and then time stopped: It was slow motion. One final look at the pin, then back to my ball. I was ready.
I pulled it. Pure contact, however, definitely right. I may have been on the right most portion of the green, but most likely I am off. What does that mean? Maybe that I can't take the pressure? Maybe that it was just a mishit one night at the range? Maybe that I am blowing one shot out of proportion. For me, and I believe most golfers who believe that they have potential, it was so disappointing that there really feels like there is not cure. No food, TV show, or song would bring me out of this funk.
However, the only hope that I have after that disgusting attempt at winning the Masters is to get back out there and show myself that I CAN...such is golf...such is life.
Tonight, as I stood over my ball, eight-iron in hand, with the lights from the driving range post sending my left-handed shadow straight over my ball, I wondered what 'the range' means for the different people there, and what it meant to me as well. Maybe for some a refuge that allowed them to stash their worries about the miserable economy and rising gas prices at the bottom of their bags. For others it could provide a sense of seriousness, in which they tested their abilities; hitting to 100, then 125, then 150 yards. Then of course there are those who spend their time as they would at the church, temple, mosque...They're praying. Praying their ball goes straight. Praying they don't lose their balance. Praying they don't let go of the club after swinging and being the idiot that threw his club into the range.
For me: a test, a safe haven, and a temple all in one. Praying that I can hit my target, I take a sigh of relief (that I am away from sibling rivalry, yelling kids at work, girl drama, money issues) and then view my target and test myself . I hit pretty well tonight to be honest. Good wedges, long irons mostly straight with good distance. Long, controlled drives. However, with one last ball left, I stepped up to my favorite shot: 125 yards away, a slight breeze in my face, middle pin. I was no longer at the range. In my mind, I told myself I was at the Masters about to hit my approach shot onto 18. I was the 'out-of-nowhere' kid, a fairytale story about to win my first Masters. I could hear the commentators in mind. "All Leivenberg needs here is to hit it safe into the middle of the green and he will have secured his win."
I did my normal pre-shot routine. Stood behind the ball for a moment, looking from my ball to my target a few times. I stepped up, spread each foot apart, checking my aim meticulously. I took my final waggle, and then time stopped: It was slow motion. One final look at the pin, then back to my ball. I was ready.
I pulled it. Pure contact, however, definitely right. I may have been on the right most portion of the green, but most likely I am off. What does that mean? Maybe that I can't take the pressure? Maybe that it was just a mishit one night at the range? Maybe that I am blowing one shot out of proportion. For me, and I believe most golfers who believe that they have potential, it was so disappointing that there really feels like there is not cure. No food, TV show, or song would bring me out of this funk.
However, the only hope that I have after that disgusting attempt at winning the Masters is to get back out there and show myself that I CAN...such is golf...such is life.
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