Sergio Garcia has always seemed like the kid who got a brand new car the day he turned 16. Worse, he has always seemed like the kind of kid who believed he deserved that new car because of something he had done as opposed to who his parents were.
For the first several years on the PGA Tour Garcia played golf like this too. He was always upset with how fans reacted to him in the gallery, quick to claim that he didn't hit a bad putt, that it was the green that betrayed him. He played golf with a calculated insouciance. Spitting in the cup after bad holes, seeming standoffish when he was interviewed mere moments after yet another near miss with victory.
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| Sergio Garcia takes aim at the island green, his fate resting on a dry landing. (Getty Images) |
Last week I wrote about our round at TPC Sawgrass and how it culminated in both Tardio and me parring the 17th. The pin was placed at the exact same location as Sunday and we faced the exact same shot that the leaders did as they neared the clubhouse. The wind was whipping across the water, it was almost the same time, and while we stood there looking at the island in the near-distance we had enough time to contemplate how we'd react to whatever shot we hit.
I think that's why 17 at the TPC is the best hole in golf, because it's hard enough to challenge every golfer with complete success or utter failure. Anyone can hit the ball 128 yards and birdie the hole and anyone can put up a 66. Or not. (Read Note 9 about one man's 27 balls into the water).
There's very little distinction between a good shot and a bad shot. No. 17 magnifies the thin line between success and failure and that's often camouflaged in life. When you're standing in the tee box you know, no matter what, the result of your shot is going to be very good or very bad. There's no artificiality or faking it when it comes to the actual result.
I know 17 is often decried as a gimmick by golf purists who believe it creates an artificial distinction between a good and bad shot. Or that some believe the hole only exists to boost ratings and interest for a relatively new course (tourney play began in 1982) that is otherwise lacking in history. Maybe all those criticisms are valid. Or were valid. Because what 17 has become is the antidote to a modern society that is all about cushioning tough blows and avoiding failure. You hit a good shot or you don't, simplicity incarnate.
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1. Every time I watch a PGA Tour event, I love to see the players that I didn't know existed. This time it's Jeff Quinney and Paul Goydos. It reminds you how many golfers there are lurking just beyond the close-up lens of the cameras. No one knows these guys.
I call this the Lost factor. You know how occasionally in the frenzy of action you get a distant camera shot of Lost and there are these random survivors of the plane crash running behind the main characters but you've never seen before? That's what the PGA Tour turns into every major tournament. There are always a few guys that emerge from relative obscurity and then, often, vanish again. But for a few minutes you see them and think, hey wait, there are a lot of guys trying to win this tournament.
2. During my viewing I arbitrarily eliminate guys from big tournaments based on random characteristics. For instance, Jeff Quinney is not going to win the tournament. I know this because he's wearing a pink shirt with man boobs that make Phil Mickelson wince. Just not happening. The next guy who wins a major wearing a pink shirt and man boobs will be the first.
If I were the NBC researcher in charge of interesting facts, I'd flash this across the bottom of the screen, "Players wearing pink shirts with man boobs have never won The Players or any major."
3. Paul Goydos is one more guy to eliminate from contention. Primarily because he looks like everyone's dad. Only more optimistic. He's like the Little League coach who compliments you for hitting a nice foul ball after you've just struck out on three pitches.
4. Sergio's tan is ridiculous. He looks as if he just spent the past three weeks on the beach in Ibiza. Probably because that's where he has been. One of the primary reasons so many people can't root for Sergio (aside from being the guy who gets the car on the day he turns 16) is because while his losses appear agonizing at the moment, it doesn't look like he suffers very long from them. Also, is there any doubt that Sergio wears Speedos at Ibiza? That doesn't help his popularity either.
5. As Goydos comes up the fairway on 16 the camera does a great job catching him snagging a look at the tee shots of his competitors on 17. It's only a matter of time until a scandal erupts over a caddy smuggling in a Blackberry to check score updates or planting willing people in the crowd to help update the golfers to the minute as they come down the stretch.
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| Jeered by fans at times, Garcia basks in the cheers during his win at TPC Sawgrass. (Getty Images) |
7. En route to the green after hitting a successful shot on 17, Goydos says hello to his mom and to moms everywhere. He sounds just like Mr. Rogers. Again, this is the guy you wanted coaching you in Little League.
8. On 18, Sergio spikes the putter after the par putt. Love the enthusiasm, but is this really smart? What if the putter bent just a bit and he has to play later?
9. How about Goydos' caddy squatting in the rough above the bunker as Goydos prepares a par putt to win the championship? That's the kind of dedication we got from Harry all week. Goydos narrowly misses and we're headed back to the island green for the playoff.
10. Why do they drive them in carts back to the 17th hole? After walking 72 holes they can't walk themselves? The playoff tension is ratcheted to a new level with the island green's star turn as the deciding hole.
11. After all this suspense, we're back on the island green for the opener. Once more Goydos says something witty and then he stands over his ball. Just a half hour ago he hit a perfect approach. Now, with his caddy's advice which we overhear, he's told to hit the same exact shot. And he does. Or at least thinks he does.
Goydos' shot climbs high into the air and we all wait for it to land on the green. Only it doesn't. Later camera shots running in slow motion show the ball landing about a yard short of the green, bouncing up off the wooden support and then sinking to the four foot depth of the lake. Where the ball will lie until July, when one of the four ball collection dates arrives (the others are January, April, and October). For neither the first nor the last time in his life Goydos fails and now the waters of the island have taken their most famous spoil.
12. Sergio, at long last, follows up Goydos with a perfect approach shot. Then he two putts from four feet (perhaps the slammed club impacted the distance after all). Finally Sergio has a big win and he even seems a bit humble in the post-match interview when he's finished with his product placements in his acceptance speech. He's the champion. In the end it's completely proper that TPC Sawgrass, a challenging course that requires every golfer to effectively be an island unto himself, be decided on an island green.









