T.R. Massey

Ernie Els, Andres Romero and other sartorial abominations on the golf course

I think jeans and jean shorts are terrible for the golf course. Let me add to that cargo shorts. I saw some guys playing recently at an upscale course and they were all wearing rumpled cargo shorts that hung well below their knees. They looked like orphan clam diggers.

And while I’m complaining about attire, let me add Ernie Els to the list. Who told him to pair a baby blue sweater vest with a pink golf shirt and the dullest gray slacks anyone’s ever seen at the British Open. Good God, Ernie, get it together. At least Andres Romero has the excuse of being unschooled on the world’s stage. His sartorial decisions were pretty bad during his 67 in the final round, too. Red shirt from the 1970s with the T-shirt hanging out the sleeves and matching gray sweater vest and pants? Come on. I know all Argentines don’t dress this badly. Oh, and by the way, Taylor Made - can you make a hat that doesn’t look like it just came of a long-haul trucker’s head?

Golf and spouses don't mix

How does one mix golf and a wife? Someone fill me in, please. Let me give you some background - I’ll tell you a story that’s as old as golf itself, but it just happened yesterday.

I’m the editor of GolfStyles Ohio, and our company hosted a Players Series tournament on July 29 at Longaberger Golf Club, one of the top public golf courses not only in the state but the nation. So I got up at 6 in the morning (and yes, of course, I was up late on Saturday night/Sunday morning) and drove the hour over to the course with my marketing partner and got 50 or so players out onto the course.

Then I spent the day either riding the course or waiting for players to finish or doing the scoreboard. I spent 12 hours outside in weather ranging from 90 degrees and the sun beating down to 80 degrees with 95 percent humidity.

By the time I left, my brain was a soft boiled egg. Normally, I don’t get tired, but yesterday, on the way home, I definitely was feeling worn out. I looked forward to a shower, some TV and bed.

When I got home, my lovely bride was on our back patio with two of her friends from the neighborhood. The kids were playing in the back yard, the women were having a big time and had decided to go out to a Mexican restaurant and were waiting for me to get home.

I was offered an out - to stay home by myself and forget dinner. But anyone who’s been married 10 years or more is smart enough to ignore that bait. I love my wife, but she’s no longer blushing and can be as salty as a sailor from the USS Indianapolis. So I washed my face and tried to switch gears.

At dinner, apparently I wasn’t gregarious, outgoing and engaging enough for my wife’s tastes. I was supposed to be entertaining the troops, I guess. Instead, the two boys were playing grabass with the nacho chips on the table so I told them to knock it off. “I knew you’d be in a bad mood,” my wife chirped. From then on, it was nasty looks and sarcasm. Great. A margarita didn’t really even make things better.

Next time, maybe I’ll just stay at home and see what happens. I mean, if you’re going to get bitched at no matter what, you might as well do what you want.

Rethinking the scramble

Yesterday, I played an interesting round of golf at a club owned by American Golf called Oakhurst Country Club south of Columbus. Two of the guys I played with hadn’t been on a golf course for two years, and neither of them wanted a competitive, grinding round. They asked if I would mind playing a scramble.

I felt odd about it, but I agreed. I have to say that it was enjoyable. We played fast and never from a bad spot. The two who hadn’t played much were at ease and actually performed better than any of us thought they would.

Some of the other golfers on the course thought we were crazy, I’m sure, but that embarrassment wasn’t too degrading. After the round, over a few drinks, they raved about how much fun they’d had - so I guess that evened out the day.

Gary Player, steroids, creatine and a bunch of bull

Gary Player’s pronouncement that perhaps 10 players in all the worldwide professional golf tours are using steroids is patented Gary Player garbage. He’s looking for media attention, and I here I sit guilty of giving it to him, so I’m just as bad as he is.

He said they may be using creatine, to which I say, “Who cares?” Creatine is a legal substance. And why such a small number? Ten total? Hell, that’s not even worth talking about. Have you seen professional golfers? Those who aren’t skinny are fat. Tiger’s the only one I see even partially yoked up.

Player says he got the information from a golfer who actually uses steroids and he promised not to reveal the guy’s name. So why say anything at all? I’ll tell you why - because Gary Player can’t stop himself from talking.

From a golf writer’s perspective, I can tell you that I interviewed him one time and he spent a good bit of our time proselytizing and telling me that I should be reading Proverbs.

I’ve also seen him several times at the Memorial Tournament and he always has the same joke about Jack Nicklaus - which Jack seems to really dislike. He always says Jack wasn’t the best winner in golf, he was the best loser, because he took all those second place finishes with such grace. I actually made a bet with another sports writer at the opening of the Jack Nicklaus Museum on the amount of time it would take Player to come off with that bit. It came early in his opening and I collected.

Watching British Open I want to know: Where are these geniuses?

At the risk of sounding like an ugly American, I’m getting sick of English people’s sense of superiority. Here’s where I’m coming from.

I was talking to my younger brother on Skype yesterday, and he lives in West Malvern, England. Though we both hail from Huntington, West Virginia, he and his wife and children moved there two years ago and now he’s a full-bore British Islander. His wife is a native of that area.

As is the case with all our conversations, the subject of education came up - his daughters are nearly the same age as my son. He and his wife prattle on incessantly, “Oh, it’s so much tougher over here, the kids have so much more to do, so many essays to write - it’s not just filling out papers.” The slight is obvious.

Why then isn’t every kid from their school matriculating then becoming a leading researcher in some awesome scientific field? For instance, while I was just watching the British Open, I wondered the same thing I do every year: Why do they not have cameras and satellite uplinks over there that can track a golf ball in the air? You watch a shot and it’s jumpy, like it’s moving too fast for the lens to catch it in action. Hell, at a PGA Tour event, blimps flying high above the action can track a golf ball from clubface to final resting position, sometimes even when it finishes deep in the rough.

Maybe some kid from my brother’s kids’ school will figure it out.

I don't get the British Open

The British Open apparently strips back the veneer of my insecurities. I started watching it on the first day of play and it didn’t take long before I started getting sick of listening to how awesome it is.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to play golf in crappy weather. As far as I’m concerned, if it’s an outdoor pursuit and I’m supposed to have fun, freezing my butt off isn’t what I’ve got in mind.

I mean, there stands Tiger Woods, and every time he hits a shot, he puts on hand warmers. Uh, isn’t it July 19? Just because someone invented a game in the area doesn’t mean that’s the best place to play. My brother lives over there. He told me yesterday that it’s rained every day since May. Gee, that sounds nearly as fun as a barium enema.

And they call it The Open Championship, as if that’s the only tournament worth more than a cup of tea. Kiss my arse.

(Oh, and Paul McGinley: General Mills called and said you’re late for the photo shoot for the Lucky Charms box.)

Why again are Canada geese federally protected?

Aren’t Canada geese just lovely? The way they fly through the air in a V formation. The way the parade their goslings in a row from wherever they are to wherever they’re going. Their gray, black and white markings with the distinctive chinstrap. Their angry hissing and flapping of wings and biting people. Their man-sized scat. Charming.

Also, non-migratory, I say. I understand they are federally protected because they are supposed to go south in the winter. Well, I don’t know where you live, but in Ohio, the damn birds are on nearly every golf course, honking at players and crapping small Volkswagens on the greens. When they nest, those goslings always will consider their birthplace home and come back to nest when they’re adults.

Well, if these birds aren’t going to fly south, let’s take away their protected status. Why should golf course superintendents have to pay $3,000 for a border collie to shoo them away? I guarantee if you kill a couple of them, they’ll find another place to live. By the way, you know why labs and golden retrievers don’t get the job? Because the geese will swarm the dog in the water and drown him/her with their great flappy feet. Border collies apparently are smarter than to get cornered like this.

I’ve seen golf courses do all sorts of things to keep Canada geese away, including putting mylar strips around ponds (nothing quite as attractive as reflective flaps of plastic everywhere), fishing line grids across the tops of ponds, fake alligators (I really don’t get this one - why would a bird be afraid of something it’s never seen?) and even purchasing a license from the state to shake up the eggs once they’re laid so they won’t hatch and the parents won’t come back.

This fall goose season, we could let hunters cull the ever expanding goose herd and everyone would have a better golfing summer in 2008.

Pappas brothers reunited at Nationwide Children's Hospital Invitational in Columbus

The Nationwide Tour’s Nationwide Children’s Hospital Invitational at Ohio State University’s newly renovated Scarlet Course (I’d like to see you cram more facts into a lead sentence than that) is in Columbus this week. It’s the tour’s first-ever invitational and one of my boys is playing.

I’ve known Craigen Pappas for 15 years, and the South African is playing on a sponsor’s exemption. His day job is head pro at the Country Club at Muirfield Village, but his moonlighting has a fun turn - he’s competing with two of his brothers, Brenden and Deane, both Nationwide Tour regulars.

Craigen, 47, was a standout at Ohio State in his collegiate days, and back then his nickname was Obi, which he tells me is short for obnoxious.

He shot an 81 on the first day of play, so he’s not likely to make the cut. But I can’t wait to ask him how much fun it was to finally compete with his brothers once again, just like the old days in sweet home Phalaborwa.

Wyoming golf: Moose gone wild

I’ve seen lots of wildlife on the golf course before. Just this year, I’ve seen wild turkeys, deer, fox, groundhogs, turkey buzzards, bald eagles, herons, Canada geese (of course) and many others I can’t recall right now. For the most part, these animals pose no danger to golfers.

But did you catch that story in late June about the resort in Wyoming where three young moose sauntered onto the premises? They took a dip in the pond at Little America Hotel and Resort and in the end, state workers were forced to tranquilize them.

Now, I’m no moose expert, but I think these can be quite a danger. I recall a video I saw one time where this poor old guy was walking out of a grocery store and into the path of a pissed off mother moose and her offspring. She stood up on her back hooves and beat the dude to death. It seemed over the top, but hey, I guess that’s how moose roll.

Should we be rolling the greens for better putting?

I’ve done some writing for trade magazines over the years, and the more I hear about the practice of rolling greens, the more I like it.

Apparently, people completely abandoned it for about 50 years, then picked back up on it in the 1980s. Now, you see it a lot.

But I played golf not too long ago with a guy from Delaware, and he says his superintendent doesn’t believe in rolling greens. He also said the greens were like putting on shag carpet.

Before the Memorial Tournament this year, I saw sidewinding greens rollers all over the place. That’s all the proof anyone needs - if Paul Latshaw is doing it, almost everyone should.

Rolling greens allows you to skip a cut and keep the same speeds. So why wouldn’t everyone do it?

Priapism at the AT&T National

At 6:10 on July 8, I was sitting on my couch eating dinner with my six-year-old son as we watched the AT&T National’s final round wind down. OK, so maybe you don’t eat dinner in front of the TV. Go piss up a rope.

Anyway, one of the tournament’s other big sponsors, Cialis, had an ad on at this time. I couldn’t find the remote and, before I knew it, the guy is saying that even if he gets interrupted, his erection medicine will still work because Cialis stays in your system for 36 hours.

Then, the spot’s announcer voices over some advice about contacting your doctor is you experience priapism. Now, I’m no prude, but I really didn’t want to explain to my son what a painful, four-hour erection is all about. He doesn’t know about sex yet and I’m not ready for him to learn. Jesus, I hate to sound like Tipper Gore here, but can’t you even watch golf without having to suffer through penis talk?

Wanna Tiger-proof a golf course? Shorter might be better

After administering six of the eight GolfStyles Solstice Survival events, I have picked up on something. I’ll get to it in a second.

We play three 18-hole rounds of stroke play in one day, and average just over four hours per round. For the third round, I have everyone move up to a shorter set of tees, usually about 6,200 yards or so. It’s to help the pace of play and give tired muscles a break, and believe it or not, the scores don’t drop dramatically.

The players think because they’re playing a shorter course, they can carry hazards from the tee. Usually, they end up in the bunkers, not over them.

And here’s my point: if tournaments on the PGA Tour really want to Tiger-proof their golf courses, don’t add 1,000 yards of length. Make them play at 6,800 yards. That gives everyone in the field a shot at winning, especially the shotmakers. Playing a 7,500 yard golf course virtually eliminates 90 percent of the field. A short course takes away the length advantage from the players who can hit it a mile. It might not be as exciting as watching someone drive the ball 400 yards, but who knows? Maybe they’ll go for it more often, the way players do on the Nationwide Tour, where if you don’t go low, you’re screwed.

Golf is a magic trick

I’ve been covering golf for 15 years, and I’ve developed a theory. Golf is not an athletic body movement. It’s a magic trick.

The secret to golf is what your hands are doing at the moment the clubface impacts the ball. It happens so fast, the untrained eye can not even see it happening. Same thing with a magic trick. Once you learn how to do it, the prestidigitation is difficult for a spectator to pick up on.

Anyone can make a golf swing, so you don’t have to be athletic to do it. Now, if you are skillful in the eye-hand coordination department, then you’ll be better than your average street klutz. Same with magicians.

A poor golf swing produces a bad shot, and anyone watching can immediately tell. Same with a magic trick.

Children love magic tricks, and they love it when they learn to hit the golf ball.

Maybe Tiger Woods is the David Blaine of golf. Or would that be Criss Angel?

Let's get it started: Michigan golf course starter thumps pickpocket

Ever been playing slowly and have the ranger come by and give you a hard time? It’s always some old pain in the ass guy who is retired and just works at the course for free golf. Well, the next time you tell your buddies how you’d like to kick his rear as he drives out of earshot, think twice.

The Grand Rapids Press in Michigan reports June 26 that a 72-year-old man named Bill Barnes was scratching off a lotto ticket in a gas station when a sketchy customer tried to pick his pocket.

Barnes had just gotten $300 out of the ATM and Jesse Daniel Rae, a 27-year-old dude, chose the wrong guy to screw with. Barnes reportedly is a former Gold Gloves champ and Marine, and when he felt this scumbag’s hand in his pocket, he started wailing on the guy until it looked like some had rubbed his forehead with a cheese grater.

Barnes, also a retired iron worker, works part-time at a local golf course as the starter.

Gifts from the past: A Vulcan spoon V-16, and a hickory shafted Tom Stewart putter

Recently, I visited my uncle George Davis, and he gave me two antique golf clubs that belonged to his uncle (my great uncle) Elmer Davis. One of the clubs was a Vulcan spoon V-16, what amounts to a 3-wood. It has an early steel shaft that isn’t nearly as big or graduated as today’s, but the head is about the same size as a modern 3-metal. Interestingly, the hosel of the shaft is bored through to the sole of the head. The club is 75 years old, but the technology is about the same. Only the materials are different.

The other club was a hickory shafted putter made by Tom Stewart at St. Andrews in Scotland in the early 1900s. Made for MacGregor, the head has the numeral 10 stamped on it as well as a tobacco pipe, which I’ve learned is a maker’s mark.

One is worth about $10 and the offset putter with the original grip has a $100 price tag. I won’t sell them - it’s not worth the effort. But I thought I might put the putter in my bag for a round or two just to see what happens. It sure is strikingly different than my Two Ball putter with the soft face. I’ll get back to you on how it works.