Wrote a lot about golf. Golf has sponsors and money and programs need writing.
This is Masters week. Recognize a voice on the television coverage. Somebody I talked to, a time or two.
Second only to runners, golfers are the most interesting athletes. Their game is all about angles and scheming against nature and diabolical design.
From June 14, 1989.
Golf is a strange game.
Consider the field of play for the Fred Meyer Challenge. Thousands of yards – 6,584 to be precise – of rolling turf carefully designed to appear harmless. Benign even.
Dozens of pockets of raked sand that would at first glance seem easy to avoid. A variety of other obstacles, most notably a lake, offer little threat to the casual observer. And there are those eighteen (18) buffed-out greens, not looking mowed really, but more the result of a careful arrangement of a million bonsai blades of grass. And nothing at all like your backyard.
Golf is a simple game.
In golf, the participant must select, from a large bagful of striking tools, a specific club. This selection is in itself a science – when it’s not an art – and often requires the advice of a unique individual, who is part astrologer, part psychiatrist, and part porter. The caddy.
Having selected the proper instrument, the golfer then addresses the stationary ball, which its advertisers swear is more scientifically evolved than the space shuttle. The ball is always designed to go a “heckuva” long way when you hit it.
Commencing play, the ball is set softly atop a tee, where it lies in wait, patiently, poised and tempting. Like anyone could do it.
The game is all in the swing. You’ve only to hold the club just so, with your fingers intertwined like a secret society’s ritual handshake, then coil your upper body counter-clockwise at the waist, and raise your arms above your head. Now, in one smooth motion, whip the club at the ball, swiveling powerfully with your hips, following through like a mirror image of yourself at the start of this exercise, and holler ahead, “Fore!”
Then you are supposed to walk after the ball you just smacked. When you finally locate it, you are supposed to hit it again, with still another club, farther down the “fairway” in the direction of the “green.”
Keep walking.
The green, so named for its distinctly verdant appearance, is basically The Promised Land. Somewhere on the green, its location significantly identified by a numbered flag – so you don’t become disoriented or lost – is The Hole.
This tiny, minute, shallow cup, virtually invisible by itself, is your target.
There are eighteen (18) such targets on a regulation golf course like that used for championship-caliber golf, which we’ll see played at the Fred Meyer Challenge. Eighteen diabolically positioned receptacles into which the skilled practitioner of linkmanship should put his one ball with just seventy-two (72) strokes from his quiver of striking tools.
That’s par, which can be obtained by shooting birdies, bogeys and eagles.
This all makes perfect sense to Curtis Strange. Curtis Strange is a golfer.
Strange, who returns to the Fred Meyer Challenge as the defending United States Open champion and the leading money winner on the 1988 P.G.A. tour, is one of the sport’s most skillful practitioners.
How good is Curtis Strange? Some people say he’s perhaps the greatest golfer this side of Seve Ballesteros. The host of the Fred Meyer Challenge, Peter Jacobsen says Strange is even better than that.
“Curtis is probably the best player today,” says Jacobsen. He and (Britain’s) Nick Faldo have elevated themselves above all the rest at this time. In the long run, Curtis will be in the Top Ten ever to play the game.”
No less a percentage than Hale Irwin, himself one of the planet’s top golfers, said about Strange. “He is the best player in the world.”
To which the center of this attention responded, “I still say it’s someone else, and I will until I prove it to myself.”
Those words were spoken last year. Last year was also a better year for Curtis Strange than 1989 has been. So far.
“I think right now, the answer is ‘No, I’m not the best,’ because of the way I’ve been playing,” Strange says. “Basically, I stay away from that argument, because I’m one of the players whose name is mentioned.”
A look at the record shows why that’s true. Strange has captured what is known as the “coveted” Arnold Palmer Award (as the tour’s leading money winner) three times since 1985. And he’s set an earning record each time. In 1988, he was P.G.A. Player-Of-The-Year, collecting a mind-boggling $1,147,644. He was the first golfer to earn over one million dollars ($1,000,000.00) in a year.
Not bad for an athlete who doesn’t get tackled, thrown out at home plate, or elbowed in the teeth while rebounding.
Not bad for an athlete whose play is restricted to tony country clubs.
Like the Portland Golf Club, site of the 1989 Fred Meyer Challenge. In an illustrious field which includes the White Shark Greg Norman, Arnold Palmer, Fuzzy Zoeller, Lee Trevino, Ben Crenshaw, Mark Calcavecchia, and Portland’s own Mr. Jacobsen, it’s Curtis Strange whose name tops the list of likely champions.
Strange is anxious to get back to the Rose City. “The field Peter (tournament host Jacobsen) gets is amazing. It’s a good competition. I look forward to it. They raise a lot of money for charity. The weather’s always great. The crowds are very supportive, and everybody has fun.”
Even Curtis Strange. The 34-year-old has had something of a reputation as an aloof personality, distant, a man who can get prickly at times.
It’s a bum rap.
“He is a warm, funny, and very considerate person,” says friend Jacobsen. “He’s the second person I thought of (after Arnold Palmer) to help initiate the Challenge. A lot of people feel he’s a bit too intense, but that’s only in competition. Off the course, he’s easy-going and personable.”
“I can’t be out there carrying on,” Strange says in his defense but not defensively. “Sometimes you get short with people, especially in the heat of the battle. You can’t blame someone who does what’s best for himself. You have to look out for yourself. That’s not an excuse.” It is an explanation.
Bob Wood, a Nike executive who works with Strange in that company’s golf program, knows the man personally. “Curtis is real intense when he’s playing. He’s a classy guy, he’s a nice guy, well-spoken, intelligent, sincere… he’s a very human guy… but there’s no room for B.S.,” Wood says. “He’s no prima donna. He knows exactly what he’s about.”
What Curtis Strange is about is golf. “You try to do the best you can, but you’re always under a microscope,” Strange points out.
“It’s tough. Especially when you speak your mind like I do. Sometimes they don’t like what they hear. I’m focused on the golf game.”
The son of a golf professional, Strange started to focus on the game at age seven (7), “and by the time I was eight (8), I was playing every day.”
He attended Wake Forest, Arnold Palmer’s alma mater, on an Arnold Palmer scholarship. He paid the school bck when he birdied the final hole to win the national team championship.
He was named College-Player-Of-The-Year.
Two years later, Strange turned pro. Two years after that – 1979 – he won his first PGA tournament, the Pensacola Open. “It was great,”he recalls about that initial victory. “The first one is always a big one anyway. o know you can do it. To gain credibility. To be accepted by your peers. That first win was a big one, no doubt about it.”
For Curtis Strange there have been many big wins. He’s won eleven (11) tournaments in his pro career. In each of the last nine years, he’s taken home no less than $200,000. Two hundred grand in his least successful year. But Strange doesn’t like to talk dollars. He doesn’t play for the bucks. (His career earning do exceed $4.5 million.)
“There are a lot of very nice people in the world who won’t ever make a fraction of the money the top golfers make. I don’t emphasize it,” Strange says. “A million dollars. That’s just a figure. People remember that because I was first.”
“Some guys are out there to make a living,” Bob Wood offers. “Curtis is out there to win.”
“We get paid handsomely,” concedes Strange. “If you play the best golf, you make a lot of money. Golf is a business like anything else.”
Golf is also a sport.
“I don’t look at the money,” says Strange firmly. “It’s the result of good play. I try to win. I try to earn the Arnold Palmer Trophy. I try to put the lowest score on the board.”
It’s not the money he wins, but how he plays, how he wins it, that sets Curtis Strange apart from the horde of talent that is the Professional Golf Association. For one thing, he’s not particularly good at any one thing.
“It’s tough on me to say why I’m as successful as I am,” Strange remarks candidly. “I’m on the inside looking out. I like to think I drive the ball very well. I make my share of putts. It’s a well-rounded game. I used to say that my strength is that I don’t have any weaknesses. But that didn’t seem to interest people much. Now I point to course management – how I approach a round – and my desire to win.
“The key is having that enthusiasm, even if you don’t have a chance for a victory,” Strange points out. “When I’m looking at 4oth place, I shoot for 30th. When I’m facing 25th place, I go for 15th.”
Curtis Strange goes right after it. “He’s a risk taker,” according to Nike’s Wood. “He’s got ice in his veins. If he was a hired killer, he’d be one of the best. If he’s in a position to win, he’ll win it.”
Oh, he’s not that tough. Married to Sarah, Strange has two little boys, Thomas, age 7, and David, 4. Dad is even a little apologetic about his leisure activities, hunting and fishing. “People don’t usually like to hear much about shooting ducks.”
No, we are more interested in other kinds of birdies. Like the one that clinched the 1988 U.S. Open. A MAJOR major.
Labeled by some members of the media as a golfer who could win everything but one of the Big Four, Strange ripped that monkey off his back with a thrilling eighteen-hole playoff win over Nick Faldo.
Noting that his wedding day and the births of his sons were obviously the biggest days of his life, Strange points to that summer afternoon at The Country Club in Brookline, Massachusetts as a very special occasion.
“What does this mean to me?”, he asked in response to one Sports Illustrated reporter’s question. “It gets me to the next level. It means it’s my first major…. it means what every little boy dreams about when he’s playing golf late in the afternoon, by himself, with four balls. One of them’s Snead, one of them’s Hogan, one of them’s Nicklaus, and one’s Strange. It means that ninety-nine percent (99%) of people’s dreams never come true, but mine did. It means all the work I’ve done over the years has paid off… And maybe it means Curtis Strange will be looked at in a different way.”
One person who might look at him differently is Curtis Strange himself. “Winning the U.S. Open… my first major,” he says, as if there may be a second and even a third or a fourth, it’s a big part of my life. It certainly changed it. I say it didn’t, but it did.”
The life may have changed, not the man.
And it’s the man who is looking to win the Fred Meyer Challenge. Strange, teaming up with Jacobsen, tied for the championship in the inaugural Challenge in 1986. In 1987, the same dynamic duo finished second. Unable to participate in last year’s extravaganza, Strange may be drawing a steely bead on a win here in 1989. His friendship with – and respect for – Peter Jacobsen is a big part of Strange’s motivation.
“Peter is just a great person. We’ve been good friends for a long time,” Strange says, sounding like Tom Sawyer talking about Huck Finn. He’s a giver. He’s always patient. He doesn’t take a lot. In fact, I wish he’d take more time for himself. If he did, he’d be a better golfer.” Strange pauses thoughtfully. “But then I guess he wouldn’t be Peter.”
“Let me tell you a story,” Jacobsen’s old buddy begins. “Back in ’85, at the Honda Classic, I was struggling. Peter took time away from his own practice to give some help. This was on a Wednesday. Sunday, I beat him in a playoff. He’s a great personality. True to everybody.”
The Fred Meyer Challenge is “Peter’s Party,” and Curtis Strange is both proud and happy to be on the guest list. One reason is the course itself. The PGC is a classic.
Ben Crenshaw calls it “a throwback to the old-style traditional course.”
Lee Trevino says, “It’s an absolutely beautiful course. Not too long… and that’s just the way I like them.”
Gary Player’s enthusiasm is almost other-wordly: “If I died today and went to heaven, I’d probably find the Portland Golf Club there… it’s that great a course.”
Strange, ever the student of the game, loves PGC, but when asked about the course, he gets pragmatic. “Outside of the Masters at Augusta, these are the fastest greens we’ll see all year.”
“I’m really looking forward to being in Portland again,” Strange exclaims. “And I’m really looking forward to playing in the Fred Meyer Challenge.”
If you’re one of the thousands who re looking forward to watching Curtis Strange and the other giants of the sport play in Portland at the Fred Meyer Challenge, tickets are still available.
Just don’t ask Curtis Strange for an autograph when he’s lining up that birdie putt on 17.
Epilogue. I got dumped by both Fred Meyer and Nike. Pretty impressive, I know. Thanks.
Am amused to see I still had copacetic contacts at both former employers. Guy like me can’t afford to burn down no bridges.
Speaking about not burning bridges, here’s a quote from Curtis Strange: “We all know he’s not going to play much after this, if any. He’s not going to be around much longer, so any time you get a chance to be around him or have a beer with him, it’s nice.”