WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH MY HEADCOVERS?! AND PLEASE KEEP YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER!

By Doug McAllister

Yep. That's my golf bag. Right there. Seven headcovers, if you please. Seven! And Darned proud of it! My driver is covered by a Grizzly Bear. That's an American Bison on my 3-wood. A Coyote on my 5-wood. A Hedgehog, a Moose and a Mouse cover each of my three hybrids. And a Bear Cub, right there in front, covers my putter. So, what's so unusual about using headcovers — even seven of them in one bag? Come on! What's the big deal!

I ask because of the reactions that I have gotten of late at various golf courses where I've gone to play. When I played Teton Pines in Jackson Hole, the excellent Arnold Palmer designed track in west-central Wyoming, my playing partner and brother-in-law, Rich Herlin, joined in with the course staffer assigned to load up our clubs, in openly making fun of my furry entourage. "Are there golf clubs somewhere under all that?" the staffer laughingly asked.

Then there was the latest outing at Tuhaye, Mark O'Meara's superb course near Kamas, Utah. Same playing partner, this time joined by Rich's son and my brother, Bruce McAllister. Once again a course bag man looked askance at my bag and everyone laughed but me. Why should I laugh? I bought 'em, didn't I?

So! What's wrong with my plush playing partners? I have been very careful to stay within a theme. And never underestimate the importance of staying with a theme when it comes to headcovers! All prairie creatures. No dragons. No killer whales or giraffes added.

Okay. The one possible holdout is the hedgehog. But in Finland hedgehogs abound in the prairies there so I figured it wasn't too much of a stretch. Why Finland? Well...because I once lived there and was enchanted by the little creatures. Also, it stands solidly to reason that, had the Queen of Hearts of Alice in Wonderland fame played golf instead of croquet, no doubt her ball of choice would have likely been a hedgehog — wearing a Titleist logo, of course.

I also find my choice of covers better than the brand named covers so prevalent out there. I get bored with bags sporting Taylor Made or Titleist or Ping headcovers. What's the real purpose, after all, with those? Quite simply, it's all too transparent an application of the Emperors New Clothes to golf. Those with branded covers are screaming, "Look! Look at me! My clubs are more expensive (or newer or more prestigious or whatever) than yours!"

Right, right! You disagree! So be it! Oh. You...that just tuned in, you agree with me? Didn't mean you! But thanks!

But back to my experiences on the course, and this one's the weirdest encounter of all.

At Cedar Hills Golf Course, just across the way from my Fox Hollow home, I ran into an interesting threesome. Two men and a woman. I was there with another brother-in-law, Jeff Bennion. As a twosome we were, naturally, outplaying the threesome. They graciously allowed us to play through. As we passed where they had parked their carts, on the way to the tee that they had vacated, the woman in the group began to giggle uncomfortably. Never mind that she seemed to be a bit tipsy. She held a beer and there were several empties in the basket of her cart. "What's with so many stuffed headcovers?" she asked. I explained that I just liked them and that they reflected my love of the outdoors. Laughing much harder now, she slurred, "Rrrrighttt! No S--t! Sure it isn't something...else?" I was totally confused. She then went on to drunkenly explain that she was sure that the playful plushes were a reflection of some bizarre and intimate fetish that plagued me (not her words, mind you! but I'll spare you her exact phraseology). "Shhurrre that's not it?" She gigglingly asked, adding a wink for good measure.

Holy cow! Now it was my turn to feel like the defrocked emperor in Hans Christian Andersen's tale! And on a golf course, to boot! I just sat there and stared at her. I just shook my head. And, as we drove up to the tee, she could be heard to laugh uncontrollably.

So there it is. I am sure that my troubles arising from my golf bag decorations are not over.

You be the judge. You have the picture here. You got problems with my furry friends? I'll send you a quarter to call someone who cares! If I had the number of the inebriate already described, I'd include it here.

This much is certain. A bear, bison, coyote, hedgehog, moose, mouse and bear cub — all excellently created by the folks at Daphne's Headcovers (had to get that in for my marketing good turn of the post!) have only helped me...

Hit 'em long and straight! Okay! At least some of the time!

GOLF COURSE REVIEW: UTAH'S MURRAY PARKWAY GOLF COURSE

by Doug McAllister

Nestled at the south junction of I-215 and I-15 in Murray, Utah, you will find Murray Parkway Golf Course. No doubt, if you've driven east on I-215 from Salt Lake International Airport, heading for points south, you've seen the course on the south side of the road. You can't miss the giant golf ball perched in the middle of the course's driving range.

So, let's talk golf at the Parkway — as this promises to be a fairly short post!

To put it in a nutshell — which is exactly how you feel while playing this claustrophobic little course — Murray Parkway, in my view, is 18 holes laid out like a can of sardines from hell. And, worse still, the feeling when playing the course is that you have to hold back or you might hit something! You might hit a car on the interstate. You might hit one of the many buildings that borders the course on virtually every side. And, most pointedly, on the 9th hole the golfer has the distinct feeling that a well-struck approach might end up in clubhouse! To borrow a phrase from the immortal Rooster Cogburn of True Grit fame, this course is "tighter than Dick's hatband!"

Now, I can already hear the arguments from the Parkway faithful: "It's a good track, given the land that they had to work with!" But that's the point isn't it? Most fine volumes on golf course design agree, location is of paramount importance when choosing the site for a course. Accordingly, I would argue that making the most of a bad location spells trouble from the outset!

And then there is another argument that is sure to arise: "Maybe you just need to control your golf ball better!" Funny! That one is also applicable at your local Putt-Putt, with which the Parkway has too much in common!

Skip this one.

Besides there are too many fine courses to choose from within a short distance to waste any time at Murray Parkway. Try Wingpointe, Arthur Hill's fabulous course adjacent to the International Airport. Continuing east on I-215 (without stopping at the Sardine Can just discussed!) and you'll find Gene Bates' wonderful Old Mill Golf Club. Head south a bit and you'll practically run right into Bates' other fine Salt Lake County course, Riverbend. I could go on and on.

But I won't.

Murray Parkway gets one star out of a possible five from me for one very good reason: Because if you hit 'em straight there, you had better NOT hit 'em long!

A FEW RANDOM (OKAY, WEIRD) OBSERVATIONS ABOUT GOLF HATERS

by Doug McAllister

What's in golfers to hate? I ask you. The more I am involved with golf, the more I learn that there is a rather large society of golf haters and haters of golfers out there. No? Well let's chat about that for a minute.

I first became acquainted with animosity toward golf and golfers shortly after I began playing the game. My paternal grandfather, a lovable old mountain man/cowboy/rock hound, apparently hated and disrespected golfers. I didn't know it, though, until I had the bad luck, one day, to ask him where the local golf course was.

Grandpa lived in the little, one-horse town of Delta, Utah and, at the time, the city had a little 9-hole track "down by the rez (short for reservoir)." The designer of the local cow patch was said to be, apocryphally, none other than Billy Casper. I was never able to substantiate this, but that was the word on main street Delta. Unfortunately, shortly after the events described here, the rez apparently flooded, washing away the little course and any reference to who might have designed it. Casper or otherwise. But, back to my post.

When I asked where I could find the course, Grandpa's face took on an exaggeratedly "pinched" expression. I doubt that I could have coaxed such a look of disdain from him had I informed him that I was joining a hippie commune in Los Angeles! After eying me up and down and up again, with a tear in his voice he asked, "Are you a...golfer?" He disappointedly dropped his eyes, shook his head, inaudibly mumbled something, gestured violently to the southwest and began to walk away. Had his wife not stepped in and demanded that he give me exact directions to the course, I doubt I would have been able to find it and been spared one of the worst rounds of my golfing experience — my fault. Not the course's! The point is he hated golf and, it wasn't too much of a leap to assume, he hated golfers as well!

Since then I have noted here and there a tendency on the part of many to hate those of us who are obsessed with "spoiling good walks!" Aha! Mark Twain! Potentially another golf hater!

One of the most interesting statements about hating golf and hating golfers comes from the inimitable Country Lawyer, Gerry Spence. In his book, How to Argue and Win Every Time, Spence unabashedly notes:

" I am prejudiced against bankers because of their spite toward the poor, which is a reflection of their own deep, abiding and ugly prejudice. They will pass a starving man on the street, but give generously to the socially correct symphony (but only if their names appear on the evening's program as major contributors)."

With all due apologies to bankers, let me get to the point as Spence continues:

"I am prejudiced against golfers because any given group of golfers is likely to include a lot of bankers, or friends of bankers, and because golfers, on the whole, are as boring as bankers. They offer little by way of enlightenment other than their golf scores. I argue (through my prejudice) that if on any given day God should strike all golfers on all golf courses dead — all at once — the world would likely go right on without missing a beat."

Holy Cow! Oh, the vitriol! Oh, the horror! Good thing I'm not prejudiced against lawyers (many of whom are golfers)!

So why the hate? Why the lampooning? Why the shamed disrespect. I suspect that much of it arises from the fact that golf is about as hard a game as there is. Admittedly, there are — just as in any group of enthusiasts in whatever — a few snobs and bores among golfers. Who knows why my Granddad felt the way he did. But I suspect that Mr. Spence's problem might have arisen from a bit of putter envy (can I say that?). More than likely, pursuing the lifestyle of a young lawyer, he decided to take up the game. I can imagine it. Out with his fellow barristers to enjoy a day on the links. And poor Gerry can't putt! Is it his nerves? His ego takes a beating. There is snickering in the gallery at his expense when putt after putt after putt comes up short! Oh, the agony! Walking off the course he throws his putter to the four winds and, shaking his fists at the heavens, vows he will never putt again! Not to mention that the young lawyer is sued by the own of the BMW through whose window the putter crashes. Or something along those lines. Perhaps a bit less Wagnerian (and, no, that's not what really happened!).

Whatever the reason, I have to admit that I belong to a hated fraternity. A hated association. So what is to be done? Shall I take to the golf closet, sneaking out now and again to anonymously ply my trade? What shall I do if friends notice callouses on my hands — exactly where Ben Hogan said they should be — and ask me what I have been up to? Am I to be relegated to back alley rendezvous to buy used golf balls from the kid who combs the local course for strays?

Or can I fearlessly stride into the local Wal-Mart and buy new Titleist NXT Tours (for that same kid to find a week from now)? Yes! I am here to say that I am above the hatred. I will hold my head up, attend my GA meetings and stand and loudly proclaim, my name is Doug McAllister and I PLAY GOLF!

Actually, I'll just keep on keepin' on and work as always to...

Hit 'em Long and Straight!

CAN WE GET BACK TO GOLF IN ITS PURITY?

by Doug McAllister

Don't you hate that golf has become fodder for the tabloids? I can recall when — just a few years back — golf was considered the last, pure gentleman's game. No out-of-the-ordinary reports about this golfer getting caught with his pants down (literally). No wild and crazy photos showing up about that golfer struggling with an addiction (of a variety of sorts). Peaceful stuff.

Now golf seems to be headed — albeit and thankfully more slowly — in the same sordid direction as many of the globes other games.

For me and my blog here, there has been the temptation to address some of the same stories as other blogs about the sport. No more. Yes, I may have to weigh in if there is truly something earth-shattering and golf-related as well. Other than that, though, it's time to focus on golf!

I have said again and again and again that golf is the bigger than any single professional player or golf personality. Bigger than any golfer, for that matter. Big enough that it cannot really succumb to dips and valleys in the market. Oh, sure, there may be a drop in player participation stats when the economy gets tight but, thankfully, it will never be such a catastrophe that the game ceases to be played.

There is something far too fundamental, far to foundational about golf. It seems almost timeless, regardless of whether yellow golf balls are "in" or "out." It has been and always will be a BIG DEAL. When a King of England goes out of his way to try to ban the game for fear of its effects on national security, you know that this isn't something a faddish as longboarding or hackysacking.

So, I'll say it: To hell with Tiger! To hell with his personal problems. To hell with guessing about whether his wife beat him up or not. To hell with speculating about why his game has gone south.

There are far better golf-related subjects about which to speculate. For example, a better question — one more pertinent to golf in its purity — is why has David Duval's game gone south? Huh? How about that? Or why did Johnny Miller's game go south when it did? Or, even better, why has your Uncle Stan's game gone south? OR why is it that going south is such a bad thing?

The interesting thing about golf is that it is played at all levels with just as much emotion — sometimes even more so — as in the professional ranks. We lose sleep over it. We worry about whether we can make a high school golf team. We agonize over whether we will still be able to play it a decade from now or, worse, whether we'll still want to. We mess with it and we fidget about it. We buy too many golf balls or too many pairs of golf shoes. Why? Because, when we can't be on the course, buying something that is golf-related gives us a feeling that we are still actively part of the game!

So, I'll try to keep this interesting WITHOUT stooping to the stupid nonsense that has come to pervade golf journalism. It's true, we love a scandal. But, surely, there is so much of good and noble and lasting about this game that I should be able to explore it and write about it. No?

So you go hit 'em long and straight and I'll get working on putting together stories that go a bit deeper than the tabloid ordure that's all the rage for today!

MORE IDIOTIC GOLF VIEWER VIGILANTISM!

by Doug McAllister

Last Tuesday I wrote about golf vigilantism gone crazy; armchair rules officials calling in to rat out hapless golfers who — most often without thinking — break the rules.

Well, it's happened again. Just like that. Julie Inkster, the veteran of the LPGA, was disqualified after a pseudo sleuth called in and reported seeing Inkster using a training donut on her club as she waited to continue her round. Damnable! To think that a consummate pro like Julie Inkster would attempt to take advantage of her fellow players in such a way. Why, it's as bad as using performance-enhancing substances! Don't just disqualify her. Stone her!

Moreover, the infraction has become the stuff of other golf blogs. Parents, lock up your sons and daughters! First, Dustin Johnson seeks the downfall of our youth by cheating at the PGA Championship and now Ms. Inkster has done the same. Shameful!

RUBBISH! As noted in my previous post, it's time to turn the water cannons on the idiots who call in and, by so doing, break up the sensible play of golf tournaments everywhere. Golf, just like other sports, continues to be a game played by fallible humans — just like you and me. Also, the game continues to be officiated by similarly mistake making carbon-based life forms. Ergo, mistakes of every sort are going to me made. Mistakes by players and by those assigned to officiate. And that should be a locked circle!

Allowing individuals to call in and report infractions is tantamount to sanctioning an instant replay in golf — the game that is supposedly so honorable that players can and should call penalties on themselves.

My appeal, then, is as it was in my previous post: Please, PGA and USGA and R&A and all others upon whom falls the responsibility to officiate golfing events, turn off your phones. Refuse to accept calls from outside agencies who want to become your extra pair of eyes and ears. Determine that you will officiate yourselves and, should mistakes be made or infractions be missed, accept that it's all part of the game.

For the rest of us...

Hit 'em Long & Straight!

TODAY'S FLOTSAM AND JETSAM: WYNDHAM, DUSTIN & TIGER

by Doug McAllister

Some days there are just too many golf subjects to weigh in on. One of those days today. So, this post will be several pieces crammed together. The only unifying element here is golf but, in the end, that's probably okay!


"MINOR LEAGUE" WYNDHAM WITH SOME MAJOR ISSUES AT STAKE

More and more, events that seem to lack the supposed marquee players of the Tour have gotten a black eye, labeled as almost minor league events. But, at the Wyndham Championships this week, that really isn't the case — even if what's his name is too good to come. Too much at stake this week to be considered minor in any way. All of the "bubble" players are scrambling hard to make the start of the playoffs next week and that makes for some exciting stuff. I guess when there is, seemingly, a ton on the line, high interest is generated.

But, don't you think if there were appropriate levels of interest given to all of the previous "minor" events of the year, many of the Bubble Boys would have already qualified for the playoffs? Something to think about.

Others, like Anthony Kim, who are coming off injuries or other setbacks during the season really aren't to be blamed. I am sure that their interest was there, even though they were unable to play. Also, let's not consider any PGA event minor, regardless of who shows up. It's golf, isn't it? Golf at this level is all that really needs to be there. But, for minor league golf, please tune into the Nationwide Tour.


DUST(IN) IN THE WIND!

While it seems that Dustin Johnson has wisely moved on following his unfortunate debacle at the PGA Championship, everyone else in the press seems to be chewing the bones. So, not to be left behind, I will too.

The finger pointing has begun in earnest as everyone is blaming everyone for the mess. Even Pete Dye is being criticized for including the 1200+ bunkers in his exquisite design. Hilarious! It was Dustin's fault for not reading the unnecessary local rules sheet (unnecessary because, in my view, the whole deal shouldn't have been handled on a local rules breakout!). It was the PGA's fault for their professionals on the scene remaining silent when they should have been sending up red flags right and left. And it's surely Lake Michigan's fault for being there in the first place and for helping form the links land upon which the course was built.

I liked Nick Faldo's take on things during an observation made while commentating at the Wyndham Championships. He noted that only once previously in his entire career had he ever seen spectators standing in a bunker that was in play on a golf course and that was in France (leave it to the Frogs! — my comment not Nick's). His comment was that he couldn't believe that the spectators were allowed to stand there (probably the fault of the PGA!) and that, given the fact that they were allowed there, the sandy track was not immediately declared a waste area. Hear! Hear! Sir Nick! Why didn't someone on the scene think of that? Seems to me that if an area is tracked all over by a bunch of human cattle the only fair thing to do is consider it a waste area. Faldo for PGA President!


AS THE TIGER TURNS!

I would have said "as the Eldrick Turns" but the nice alliteration would have been lost.

We can all rest easier. Eldrick has announced that he will begin his defense of the FedEx cup at next week's Barclay's. Defense? Right! I don't know about you, but I was losing sleep wondering whether or not he would sanctify the event with his presence. But breathe easier, golf fans! The exalted one will be there and the world of golf will be saved for one more weekend!

Also, speculation is running higher than high that Pavin will pick Eldrick to grace the ranks of America's Ryder Cup Team. If you didn't shout "hallelujah!" regarding the breakthrough at the Barclay's, here's your next chance. Again, America will be saved as El(drick) Tigre leads our boys into the fray to vanquish the foul European foes! And, if you believe that — that we will vanquish the foul European foes — I still have that oceanfront property here in Utah for you to consider buying.

I'm afraid that poor Pavin is under immense pressure to make sure that the PGA's erstwhile Poster Boy is on the team, whether it's for the best or not. After all, money talks and that other stuff walks. Can't have money without a product and, mistakenly, Eldrick is viewed as the product.

Funny. I always thought golf was the product. Silly me!


So, there you have my random meanderings for today. Do yourself a favor and get out there and...

Hit 'em Long and Straight!

GOLF COURSE REVIEW: SOLDIER HOLLOW SILVER COURSE AT MIDWAY, UTAH

by Doug McAllister

In 2002 the world came to Utah in the form of the Winter Olympic Games. Big stuff! Venues were built all over the norther part of the state for the various events. For Cross Country Skiing a site was chosen in the picturesque Heber Valley, southeast of Salt Lake City. The west mountains of the valley offered the ideal terrain for skiing and the Soldier Hollow Cross Country Ski Center was born.

Wanting to take full advantage of the beautiful setting, it wasn't a very big jump for the State of Utah to propose further developing the area for year-round activities. And what activity would benefit from the gentle rolling terrain favored by cross country skiers? Why, golf...of course!

Soldier Hollow now sports two 18-hole courses designed by Gene Bates, renowned for his collaborations with Fred Couples.

This year I made it a goal to play at Soldier Hollow and my three sons and I accomplished that goal earlier this week.

For our round we chose the Silver Course. In keeping with an Olympic theme, the other course is...you guessed it...named the Gold Course. Now, if they would put in an additional 18 and call it the Bronze Course, we'd have a complete medal set.


SOME GREAT STUFF: THE POSITIVES ABOUT SOLDIER HOLLOW SILVER

Gene Bates has designed four courses in northern Utah, all within just a few miles of each other in Wasatch, Utah and Salt Lake Counties. Having now played them all, they have in common some incredible links-style designing and bunkering. This is especially true of Soldier Hollow. The gently rolling hills of the slopes are wonderfully punctuated with bunkers that add both challenge and beauty.

The setting, with its views of the Wasatch Mountains all around, is nothing short of spectacular. Add to that a terrific clubhouse — complete with one of the finest, friendliest staffs to be found anywhere — and a country-club-like attention to greens, fairways and overall groundskeeping and you have a definite must-play golf destination.

From the standpoint of playability, the course is top notch, featuring yardages ranging from a 7,355 yard track from the back Black tees (rating 73.2, slope 131) to a course of 5,532 from the front Red tees (rating 68.3, slope 111). Each tee offers its share of challenge for golfers of every skill level. Really good stuff!


NOW, FOR THE DOWNSIDE: MY NEGATIVES FOR SOLDIER SILVER

We teed off at 6:56 a.m., just in time for the sun to peek over the eastern horizon. That would have been just fine, except for the unfortunate fact that the Silver Course, especially its first six holes, is configured primarily on an east/west orientation. I cannot describe how absolutely discouraging it was to make good contact on the tee and in the fairway and not have the first clue where or how far the ball had gone!

Might seem like a small thing. However, great golf course designers are usually careful to consider such things as sunlight when determining hole orientation. Having played the other Bates courses in the area, it seems obvious that this is a designer that should know better. It was more than a little confusing, given the visibility and fanfare surrounding the Soldier Hollow complex, that such a blunder would be made.


WRAP-UP

Can I recommend the Silver at Soldier Hollow? Definitely! I would, however, strongly recommend taking care when scheduling a tee time, unless, of course, you routinely carry special sunglasses designed for watching sunspots or eclipses or what have you.

Overall Rating: 3 Stars out of a possible 5

You will want to try Soldier Hollow and when you do, be sure to...

Hit 'em Long and Straight!

REPAIR THOSE BALL MARKS...CORRECTLY!

by Doug McAllister

I learned something new the other day. I have always prided myself on being a good "Golfing Citizen" in that I always fix my ball mark on the green. Moreover, I usually try to fix several others as well.

Out of curiosity, I surfed the web to see if I could find actual instructions about how fixing a ball mark should be done. I did this, mind you, more to reinforce my efforts than to really find out anything new. Shame on me! What I discovered, however, really surprised me. I had been doing it wrong all along. In fact, I had been doing it in a way that actually did the green more damage than good!

Want to know what the correct method is? I thought you did.


IT ALL STARTS WITH A FAMILIAR TOOL

You are all familiar with this tool, right? No, it's not a divot tool or divot fixer, despite being called that everywhere. Divots, remember, are those shaggy little turf throw rugs that result — we all hope — from catching the turf during iron shots after you make contact with your golf ball. Divots are replaced. Ball marks are repaired. Hence, we use a ball mark repair tool like the one pictured at left.

Ball mark repair tools come in all shapes and sizes and, if you want, you can pay a king's ransom for one. Having bought a variety of these tools, I find that all you really need are the simple, inexpensive ones sold at most pro shops for a couple of bucks.


LET'S GET STARTED

Remember that a ball mark is the result of a ball hitting the green, usually from rather high in the air. The result is the ball coming down and opening up a mark that pushes the turf out in all directions. This is important to remember so that the repair process is clean and effective.

The mistake that I was making was thinking that I needed to lever the center of the ball mark up. Accordingly, I would insert my repair tool at an angle and then press down, lifting up the center of the ball mark. Turns out this is a big NO-NO! This action tears the roots of the grass, making it ever harder for the green to heel. Ever seen a green with a bunch of brown, splotchy old ball marks? More than likely greens that I repaired wrongly. My sincere apologies!

It's also bad to insert the tines of your repair tool into the center of the ball mark and try to repair it that way.

The correct way to begin to repair a ball mark is to insert your repair tool into the grass at the side of the ball mark as illustrated above.


TWIST AND SHOUT!

Well, maybe not shout. But a twisting action is the best way to begin an effective ball mark repair. After inserting your ball mark tool at the side of the ball mark, push it toward the center of the mark while gently twisting the repair tool, as illustrated here. Remove the repair tool, reinsert it at another spot on the side of the ball mark and repeat the action.

The effect will be that the ball mark will begin to be "squeezed in" instead of "levered up" and the process will appropriately and effectively "close" the ball mark.


FINISHING THE JOB

When you've finished "making your rounds" around the ball mark, you will notice a lumpy, closed spot where the ball mark opening used to be. You know what to do now. Using your putter or your foot, gently tap down the irregularities, leveling out the green.

The final test? If what is left is something you wouldn't want to roll a putt over, you may want to tweak things a bit more. I have found, though, since employing this technique for repairing ball marks, that the process is faster and more effective than what I used to do.


So there it is! The correct way to repair ball marks on the green. Really cool stuff, don't you think?

Many thanks to the Golf Course Superintendents Association of America (GCSAA) and their excellent web site at http://www.gcsaa.org. They graciously provided the images I used here. You'll want to visit their site for additional items of interest.

Try it out on your next round. The putting greens will thank you and you and everyone else, as a result of your efforts will be able to...

Putt 'em long and straight. Short too, if you need to.

THIS IDIOTIC GOLF VIEWER VIGILANTISM NEEDS TO STOP!

by Doug McAllister

Regardless of how you feel about the outcome of last week's PGA Championship, I hope you would agree that one thing needs to change. It's time for golf to rule out all of this nonsense golf vigilantism that occurs.

What am I talking about? It seems that the whole issue of Dustin Johnson's supposedly grounding his club in a bunker arose as a result of a phone call from a television viewer. That's right! Some idiot armchair golfer watched what happened and called the PGA to report the "hellish" infraction. And this isn't the first time. There have been numerous situations where viewers, supposedly working to insure the integrity of the game of golf and its rules, have called in and reported possible problems to golf rules officials. It happened when Stewart Cink supposedly improved his lie when competing with Ted Purdy. It happened when Paul Azinger supposedly created a stance by raking his shoes back an forth and disturbed a few offended pebbles. It happened when Craig Stadler supposedly created a stance in a difficult lie under a tree by putting a towel down to keep from soiling the knees of his trousers. In each case some nitwit called in to report each damnable breach of the rules. Mark me! It has happened before and, unless something is done about it, it will happen again!

But hold the phones! First off, where is the number to call? How on earth do people get an inside line to the PGA's ear — like a personal Batphone! — during some of the most important tournaments and heated competitions of the year? Why don't I have that number? Why don't you have that number? (Oh...you do have that number? WELL, WHY DON'T I?) But I'm seriously off track!

With all of that in mind, isn't it time for the PGA to simply turn off their phones during such a contest? Why not just decide that mistakes at all levels will be made? Why not make it a rule that what happens on the course has to be dealt with on the course?

What would the world of sports be like if hundreds of viewers were allowed to call in and tattle on this misstep or that one. I can see it now: "I don't think the runner tagged up on that pop fly, better look at the tapes." or "On my giant home theater television screen, you can clearly see that the football didn't break the plane of the goal line. Better review a replay." Yeah, I'm nuts to even bring this up.

But what about golf. Why is it that the PGA listens to the crazies that call in? As just noted, shouldn't it be that golf officials need to be the ones calling their own game? It's a safe bet that the PGA officials walking with Dustin Johnson on Sunday would have missed the call just as Dustin did and things would be a lot more peaceful this morning.

I suggest that the world of golf turns off its collective phones during events like this. Golfers will make mistakes. Sure. Rules officials will make mistakes. Even better. The tiny-minded pygmies who pride themselves on being the vigilantes that brought down Dustin Johnson and others will just have to deal with it. Golf will be a more realistic sports experience for everyone.

And to get the ball rolling, I've included here a possible script for the message that will play when someone calls in, hot to bring down the next unfortunate player. Imagine the sweetest Barbie Doll voice reading the following:

"Thank you for calling the PGA of America. We know that you have just seen a possible rules violation on TV and are wetting your pants to tell one of our rules experts about it. Goody for you! We appreciate your extreme love for the rules of the game and want to extend you an important message: PLEASE DON'T BOTHER US AGAIN AND GET A LIFE, IDIOT! Thank you, so much, for your call."

Until next time, I'm Doug McAllister for the This For Birdie Blog. Be sure to hit 'em long and straight and, please, leave golf officiating to the on-site golf officials!

WILD, LAUGHABLE STUFF AS THE PGA CONCLUDES

by Doug McAllister

Now that all of the dust (and sand!) has settled, it's time to weigh in regarding the shocking denouement of this year's PGA Championship.

First off, well-deserved kudos to Martin Kaymer and Bubba Watson. But, after playing their hearts out, I fear that, sadly, they run the risk of becoming unfortunate footnotes to the event in question. Sort of like Bob Goalby. Oh...don't know who he is? Well, he's the guy who won the 1968 Masters when Roberto de Vincenzo signed an incorrect scorecard. Absolutely! You've heard of de Vincenzo. But Goalby, the champion, is the footnote. Ironies!

Which brings us to Dustin Johnson.

No, I won't rehearse a blow-by-blow of what happened on Sunday. It is sufficient to say that Johnson hit his ball into the gallery. Right! Happens all the time. But in this strange scenario the gallery had been allowed to stand in a bunker. And more to the point, SOMEHOW THE BUNKER WAS RULED TO BE IN PLAY, WITH ALL OF THE CHARACTERISTICS AND ATTENDANT PENALTIES OF A USUAL BUNKER. Strange that! How could spectators be allowed to stand inside a bunker and have it remain a bunker by the standards of the rules of golf? Horrors!

Making a long story short: Johnson thought he was dealing with a patch of scarred hard pan, proceeded to ground his club — as I am sure 100% of his fellow competitors would have done — and played on. No harm. No foul. WRONG! Johnson was deemed to have illegally grounded his club and the attendant penalty blew him out of the championship and cost him $600,000!

I, like so many of my fellow golf bloggers, am shocked and appalled that there was no compensation made. I could see the peewees of the PGA coming unglued had Johnson absentmindedly grounded his club in a greenside bunker. Sure! That's defined. That's logical. But to assess a championship compromising penalty — regardless of how the players had been forewarned — was about as ludicrous a thing as I have ever witnessed. Even Old Tom Morris was surely somersaulting in his grave!

I had to chuckle when the PGA rules official was interviewed on camera following the incident. He looked as scared as a Christian in the Colosseum! He acted as if he fully expected to be torn limb from limb by wild fans at any second. If the whole thing hadn't been such a travesty I suppose it would have won the prize on the next installment of America's Funniest Home Videos!

Okay. Are the rules of golf important. Absolutely. The rules define play for nearly every possible golfing situation. Right. There are, for example, rules for ground under repair. Why not compensations for ground under stampede? Who on earth allowed the wild herd of human bovines to occupy a part of the course that was still damningly in play? What's next? Allowing the gallery to occupy portions of putting greens? I'm beginning to believe that the PGA would agree with the conclusion of the golf farce, Happy Gilmore, and make players putt and chip through collapsed broadcast towers and flaming automobiles!

In my thinking, a classic "No Call," the sort seen nearly every game in college football or basketball would have been both classy and expected. Instead, the PGA rules Lilliputians hustled out and accosted Johnson as he was exiting the final green, still appropriately believing that he had a chance to win the tournament.

Wild stuff! Tragic stuff! Idiotic stuff!

At this point, I'd say "Hit 'em Long and Straight!" but, after this, who knows if that will be good enough!

THE 2010 PGA: AND THE WINNER IS...

By Doug McAllister

While watching today's broadcast of the 2010 PGA Championship, I was struck by a stunning fact. After all is said and done. After the last putt drops and the champion is crowned. After all of the should've's and would've's and could've's are silenced. One thing and one thing only will truly remain.

Whistling Straits.

The grand track on Lake Michigan will likely be there — barring some weird, natural catastrophe — to be enjoyed by generations of golfers yet unborn. And it won't really matter a damn who wins tomorrow. Regardless of who it is — whether a first-time winner like Nick Watney or Matt Kuchar or a seasoned veteran like Jim Furyk — the course will be as unaffected as Lake Michigan itself. The winner will be Whistling Straits and, of course, each of us who was able to witness the spectacle. Whistling Straits, like the game of golf, will be the thing that weathers time, the thing that will be remembered for years to come. And that's as it should be.

Think of it. For example, name for me the winner of the Open Championship — any one of them! — who won at St. Andrews during the twenties or thirties or forties. Who were they. Yeah, the consummate golf fact benders will be able to do it but who really cares. Certainly, in the years following their victories, they were toasted and remembered. The fact remains that St. Andrews lives on while the players — even the winners — fade away like MacArthur's old soldiers!

And so it will be with tomorrow's winner at Whistling Straits. He will be gone from sight almost as rapidly as the tracks in any of the 1,200+ sand traps are raked away at this striking course.

So, enjoy the larger aspects of the game of golf. Enjoy the timelessness of the places where it is played. Don't fret so much about who has or has not come back. And, until next time...

Hit 'em Long and Straight!

THE END OF ELDRICK IS NOT THE END OF GOLF!

by Doug McAllister

Like many of you, I spent the day at PGA.com watching the marquee coverage. For part of the day that included the winners of the three previous majors of the year, Mickelson, McDowell and Oosthuizen. But, for the afternoon, it included Tiger Woods (Oh...and a couple of other guys. I think their names were Singh and Yang).

And what transpired was unbelievable. Just how biased toward Tiger do you need to be in order to land a spot as a PGA commentator? Every time Tiger managed a par — which is all he did during coverage, including a horrible lip out for a missed birdie on the last hole played! Every time he managed a par they spoke in terms so glowing that you'd think we were witnessing again something akin to Tiger's run-away win in 2000 at the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach!

And what was said about the stellar play of Matt Kuchar, who just happens to currently lead the event? Nothing! Not a word. Sure. They would say every now and then that Kuchar was leading. No praise. No kudos! I had to laugh when, after play for the day was suspended, they recapped Tiger's round, something that we had all just watched! Holy Cow! Let's recap Tiger's play? What the heck for? It was obvious that the best play was by other players. Why not recap them?

Here's hoping that things improve tomorrow. We don't need a wild PR blitz to attempt to tell one and all that — should Tiger not win this one or not be picked for this year's Ryder Cup team or not make the FedEx Cup Playoffs — that the golfing world will implode like a black hole and spiral into the sun!

Tiger Woods is not golf and golf is not Tiger Woods. It's that simple. So why all of this nonsense about Tiger? Quite simply, Tiger is a marketing ploy. That's it! Some marketing executive for the PGA has his head on the block. He thinks that the only way to save golf's bottom line this year is to have Tiger back in the proverbial "swing of things." Will the bottom line take a hit without Tiger? Not where true golf aficionados are concerned. Golf will go along just fine without Eldrick and other golfers, sensing a freer, clearer field, will grab their chance to win and go out and...

Hit 'em Long and Straight!

HE SAID HE SAID AND THE "MERITS" OF THE RYDER CUP

by Doug McAllister

A pretty telling day at the PGA! Where to begin. Let's just take 'em as they come.


HE SAID HE SAID

Seems yesterday was just bursting with developments. Tiger finally cracks a bit and says that he will accept an invitation to be a captain's pick on the Ryder Cup Team. Surprise, surprise! But that's just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

Turns out Jim Gray — yep, the same as got in Pete Rose's face about coming clean on gambling, among other notable breaches of good taste and good sense — is skunking around, looking for a juicy scoop. He just happens to run in Corey Pavin and just happens to mention the Tiger statement. Naturally, he presses Pavin for a commitment about taking Tiger as a captain's pick. Pavin hesitates. Can he trust someone like Gray, so known for shooting off his mouth? Well...okay! Sure he'll take Tiger. Sure he'll extend an invitation. He'd be crazy not to. After all, Tiger is still number one in the world.

Like a happy little squirrel that's just found an acorn, Gray scampers off to spill his guts. Soon it's all over the Internet and leading the sports news. Good, good Gray!

But suddenly there's a snag. Pavin mysteriously turns tail and runs. Posting on his Twitter page, Pavin claims that he never said anything of the sort to Jim Gray or to anyone else. Moreover, he's not saying anything until the captain's picks are officially announced on September 7!

OUCH!

But hell hath no fury like our Jimmy Gray-Squirrel scorned. As quick a wink he's on the Golf Channel claiming that, although he thinks highly of Mr. Pavin, in this case Pavin's a dirty rotten liar! Not exactly his words but you get the picture.

Hilarious! First off, who ya gonna trust? A greasy nut wad like Jim Gray or Corey Pavin? I know who's got my vote and it's not Pete Rose's bestest buddy! The whole thing reeks to high heaven! Why, after months of claiming that he wasn't going to be railroaded about Eldrick and his place on the Ryder Cup Team, would Pavin run out and dump the story into a gutter like Jim Gray.

But things weren't over yet.

Corey Pavin and Colin Montgomery hold a Ryder Cup Captain's press conference today at Whistling Straits. Second question in and Pavin is on the spot straightening things out once and for all. "No, that's not what I said!" he says! "No, I won't rehearse my conversation with Mr. Gray!" he continues. And that's the end of it. And if you believe that I have some prime ocean front property here in Utah that I can sell you cheap!


HE DESERVES IT ON HIS MERITS?!

Next we turn to a peripheral issue arising from the aforementioned spitting match. After the "He said He said" had subsided, Golf Channel commentators naturally had to weigh in on the entire mess. Enter Charlie Rymer. When asked whether Eldrick should be on the team, this pearl of great price popped right out of Rymer's clam shell boxers:

"Of course he should be on the team. On this one and the next three. He deserves to be there on the merits of his career alone!"

Stop the presses! I get it. We've turned the Ryder Cup into a golf Disneyland with our favorite golf characters walking around for no other reason than to be seen...ON THE MERITS OF THEIR CAREERS! Okay. I can see it now. Better roll out Jack and Arnie. Wait, O'Meara has had a pretty stellar career. Oh, and Watson, as I recall, won a few majors and, more to the point, won most of them in Britain — where this year's Ryder Cup is being played! After all, we're really not in this to win it. We're just going to scare the European team away on our merits!

I couldn't believe my ears. Here was a respected golf commentator actually saying that Eldrick Tiger Woods deserved to play because he wanted to and because we owed him a spot! Total Rubbish!

Why not put players on the team who are...let's see...actually PLAYING and PLAYING WELL?! If Tiger's game goes any farther south he'll have a penguin on the bag. In short, let Tiger sit this one out — unless he miraculously wins at Whistling Straits — because right now he's totally unable to...

Hit 'em Long and Straight!

BOOK REVIEW: GRAND SLAM BY MARK FROST

by Doug McAllister

Upon completing GRAND SLAM by Mark Frost, author of THE GREATEST GAME EVERY PLAYED, I took a moment to read some of the online reviews for this book. I was not surprised by what I found. One, however, struck me. The review was titled, "The Tiger Woods of Another Era." Indeed!

The fact is, Bobby Jones was and is irreplaceable. Period! Frost's marvelous biography, if read carefully, paints such a portrait that honest assessors of the game of golf have no choice but to agree with Oscar Bane "Pop" Keeler: "There will never be another like him!" Not the Tiger Woods of another era. Far from that. Frost's volume clearly points out that every other golfer -- from Hagen to Sarazen to Palmer to Nicklaus to Woods -- is but a shadowy also-ran when compared to the inimitable Robert Tyre Jones, Jr.

GRAND SLAM tells the story of Jones' unlikely and never again equaled feat of winning all four of golf's major championships in a single calendar year. And if you are remotely interested in the game of golf -- beyond taking the sticks out once a year -- you cannot read this book and come away with any other notion than that, very likely, the greatest golf every played on this planet was played some 80 years ago! And there is nothing wrong with that fact. Who says that, as time passes, we need to see better and better golfers? Just because the equipment is supposedly better and the conditions are supposedly better doesn't for a minute mean that the best to ever tee it up has already finished his round. And please don't come to the table with arguments that today's competition is greater or that life on tour is harder or that today's Majors are more rigorous.

Yes, there is Eldrick Tiger Woods and, yes, there is his amazing Tiger-Slam. A great sporting event in its own right. I admit it. But, despite Tiger's claims that he has already matched what Jones' did, it doesn't even come remotely close to equaling--as retold in Frost's GRAND SLAM--what Jones accomplished in 1930. Not hardly! That's it and that's all. Let's just all take a deep breath and accept it!

Like THE GREATEST GAME..., GRAND SLAM is masterfully written, telling the story of Jones' early experience in golf, his brush with death at East Lake, his steady rise to golf's greatest pinnacle and his elegant retirement from competitive golf at the ripe old age of 28. And Frost's narrative regarding the four majors of 1930 is simply riveting reading for any true golf aficionado. The volume also presents wonderful biographical sketches of the other major players in the drama, including Walter Hagen and Chick Evans.

GRAND SLAM is a must read for anyone who fancies himself a devotee of the grand game. Read it and allow yourself to be amazed, as I was, that such a one a Bobby Jones ever, in flesh and blood, played the game that we love!

Read it and then...HELAS!

LOVE AT THE DRIVING RANGE

by Doug McAllister

If you've read my stuff before you know how I view practice at the driving range as being almost as sacred as teeing it up on number 1. Etiquette, please! No unnecessary talking. Concentration. Kinda like a library. Okay, well, maybe not quite. You get the picture.

So, tonight, my son and I went to the Fox Hollow driving range for a bit of appropriate golf introspection. We had just gotten set up when here comes Mr. Young Stud and his Doting Date. Yep. He's come to introduce the young lady to the game of kings. And, yep, he's chattering away as the two of them stroll...you guessed it!...to our end of the range. Angels and ministers of grace defend us!

Golf Rule #103A23Z: Never take a date to the driving range unless she's the golfer and there to teach you!

My first reaction was to glance up and down the range to see if my old friend, Baldy Bermuda, was anywhere in sight. But then I was struck by the sheer comedy of the situation. I turned my attention away from my practice and bent my ear as much as I could upon the conversation.

"I'm good at all sports, ya know," the rambunctious Romeo intoned, "Baseball, football and basketball. But golf is so hard and so challenging that I've decided to focus all my efforts on golf." Polly Purebred just nodded at this. She was probably wondering why on earth she had agreed to this. If the game was as hard as just described, why was he about to subject her to such torture? The lover boy linkster continued: "Yep, golf is my game...no doubts...my game for the rest of my life!" And at that it seemed that his chest got so big that all three button on his golf shirt exploded into the air.

Interesting approach. Was he trying to get her interested in the game or warn her that, should she stay with him, she and her children were going to have to accept being a distant fourth on his priority list, solidly after golf, baseball, football and basketball. And it became rapidly apparent that he hadn't a clue about teaching a novice how to begin the game.

First thing you know, she's hefting a driver like a sledge hammer at the fair and looking at it like she had a cobra by the tail. Now, I don't profess to be an expert on teaching the game, but everything I have experienced with the lesson side of things has a beginner starting with an iron, something with a shorter shaft and a little loft. Something to get the ball into the air.

You with me? I remember warming up before a round once with Bruce Summerhays of the Champions tour. There he was, a pounder that hit his drives a country mile, starting out with a wedge, delicately half-shooting pitches down the driving range. But, as is a problem with me, I digress.

Our hero tees up a ball and sets his sweety up to the side of it. Instructions fill the air like a swarm of angry bees: Keep your head still. Keep your head down. Take it away low and slow. Don't bend your left arm. Sweep it off the tee. Watch it leave the tee. Not surprisingly, his dearest love was as confused as can be but it was immediately apparent that she wasn't there for the golf. Looking at her with a stupid smirk on his face, he says, "Don't look at me! Look at the ball!"

I just about laughed outloud! This kid really did need to devote himself solely to golf and the sooner the better. Here he was with a beautiful young lady who, it was obvious from the way that she was dressed and the way that she looked, wasn't interested a nit in golf. She's staring at him with those big green eyes and all he can say is "Look at the ball?" Priceless! I can just see it. A few years from now there will be an ad in the paper or an advertisement on TV or on the internet. "Come join Brother Benedict's order of Golfing Monks!"

For her part, the fair young lass of tonight's melodrama will one day tell her teenage daughter how she once dated this loser who was so preoccupied with hitting this stupid little white ball that he couldn't see the birds for the bees!

For me, my continuing hope is to find a time on the range, with other golfers whispering like...well...Brother Benedict's monks. Yes. If I close my eyes and concentrate I can see it. A perfect setting to...

Hit 'em long and straight!

TIGER "SLUMPGATE" IS LETTING THE AIR OUT OF THE GAME

by Doug McAllister

What a day in golf! Disasters aplenty. Defining play by some of the games up-and-comers.

But the day, in large measure, was all about Tiger. Having finished his round well before the cameras began to roll for the network coverage of the World Golf Championships - Bridgestone Invitational, a recap showed how Tiger's slump continued to wallow in all new lows. Hole after hole. Bogey after bogey. A stunning final round 77! Yep! 7-7!

And after it all, Eldrick was good enough to field a few questions from the press.

I have to say, as I watched him answer some of the stupidest questions ever posed by supposedly intelligent reports (Q: Do you think you'd like to play in the Ryder Cup? A: Not if I'm playing like this!), I actually felt sorry for Tiger. Yes, his demise is largely of his own creation but, still, he is also the victim. Isn't he? Programmed from birth to be the greatest golfing machine in history. No siblings. Likely no real social life (until he could buy one). Pretty darn pathetic. And it showed in those tired eyes. There was real doubt today in those eyes — eyes that in past conversations with the press have been supremely fiery and confident.

But I am digressing just as most of the world's golfing media did today.

Golf's press corp said very little about the fact that Phil was worse today than Tiger by a stroke. Ernie blew up as well. Sure, the final total scores for the #2 player in the world and for today's leader of the FedEx Cup standings were commensurately better than the player formerly known as Tiger. Interesting, though, that on a day that saw more meltdowns than I can ever recall Tiger was still the center of attention. But, then, I'm really not surprised.

In the background — almost anonymously, Hunter Mahan shot a brilliant 64 and crept away silently with the championship trophy. His win won him more than the purse and the trophy. As a result of today's triumph, Mahan is assured a spot on the Ryder Cup Team — and, yes! he is certain that he wants to represent The United States!

That's the real downside of all of this Tiger "Slumpgate" nonsense. Many have basically put golf on hold while Eldrick tries to figure out whether he wants to play anymore. Golf continues as it always has and let's not forget that the future of the game is not in its past!

HELAS!

LET TIGER WATCH THE RYDER CUP FROM THE SIDELINES

by Doug McAllister

I am sure that many of you saw the clip of Eldrick's press conference from Firestone earlier in the week. If you didn't, here's the briefest of summaries: Tiger was asked if he would accept being a Captain's Pick for this year's Ryder Cup team. In typical Tiger fashion, Eldrick pointedly said that he was going to "Play [his] way on to the team." The reporter persisted two more times, realistically seeming to point out that a place as a Captain's Pick was probably about as good as the erstwhile "greatest in the game..." could expect. Twice more Eldrick defiantly insisted that he would make the team on his own merits. Interesting.

I have a better solution. Why not let Eldrick watch this year's competition from the sidelines or from home? Anyone remember what happened the last two times the World's Number One led our boys into the Ryder Cup? WE GOT TROUNCED! Yep. That about sums up Eldrick's influence on winning the Ryder Cup.

"But," you quickly argue, "there was 1999!"

Yes, there was 1999. But if you will kindly look back, you will note that, while Tiger did provide a needed Sunday point in the miracle comeback at Brookline, it took him, essentially, his entire match to dispatch the worthy Scot — Andrew Coltart — who wasn't even ranked anywhere in the world's top 25,000! (Of course, I am exaggerating. But you should accept the point!)

And then there is 2008. As you will recall, Eldrick was in medical exile, nursing a damaged knee that had been surgically repaired. As a result, the undisputed #1 golfer in the world wasn't anywhere to be seen. Word had it that he wasn't even communicating with other members of the American Ryder Cup Team. (Personally, I am grateful that he saw fit to totally absent himself from the proceedings. He probably thought that, given the two previous American disasters, there wouldn't be much of a show anyway.)

But a Tigerless American Team came to life and walloped the European squad so soundly that all of us were wondering how we could have doubted that a victory was possible if not expected. Stars emerged during the event that continue to shine. Anthony Kim. Hunter Mahan. An old flame was reignited as Kenny Perry, inspired by his Kentucky roots, went on a putting spree that bedazzled everyone. In short, we did just fine without Eldrick when he was supposedly at his best.

Which brings me to this season. If Tiger doesn't hold up his end of his nonsensical boast and play his way onto the team, why extend him a Captain's Pick? His game is solidly in the toilet right now and shows no signs of changing anytime soon. Why saddle the team with a toothless Tiger? Because he somehow deserves it? Hardly!

Here's hoping that Captain Pavin confabs for a couple of days with Paul Azinger and comes away realizing that Eldrick on the team, at least for this year, means nothing more than lost Ryder Cup points!

Besides a little time off will give him time to learn, again, to...

Hit 'em long and straight!