Saturday, October 10, 2015

The Golf Whisperers

   By Florida Bill


                          As I listen to the sports channels and watch the golf tournaments, I marvel at the various anchors and pundits and color commentators.  It takes all kinds to put out the play by play from tee to green.  Some are pretty good, but there are some who believe that whispering in a dull drab way promotes the excitement of  the moment.  Other analysts are prone to stick their foot in their mouth while trying to liven up the pace. Some live to regret it.

                   Golf  produces a whole lot of excitement for those who like to play, or perhaps just watch.  Personally, I am sort of addicted to golf and for most of the past 20 years have been on the links three to four times per week, whenever that was possible. And for most of the year there are weekly tournaments to watch on both the golf channel and on network stations.  There must be 40 or more PGA tournaments with million-dollar purses held each year in the United States.  
  
                   It's a busy existence for golf analysts, reporters and color commentators.  Various ones are assigned different spots on the course and the main announcer switches to them, on the course, from time to time.  When their microphone snaps on, they have to have something interesting to say.  The good ones have this figured out, but others are caught up in whispering non sequiturs about how a putt didn't break or whether it was properly read.  It is a tough job because the camera zeroes in on a pro taking a shot and the announcer must comment on the particular club used and the distance involved. Then, in a whisper, he describes the drive or shot--it is always to the left, to the right or a beauty down the center.  The second shot often draws a barely audible: "he'll like that one," or  "he won't be happy with that one."

                   Veteran golf announcer Jimmy Demaret used to refer to the "frog's hair" around the green, but I was never sure where the frog hair was.  There's talk of a "fade"  and a "big fade" called a slice and the draws and the dreaded "duck hook."  There are good lies and horrible lies in deep rough, and bum lies will often produce the "jumper or the flyer."  For a newcomer to the world of golf, this is almost like another language.

            But some phrases become so familiar, the regular viewer can almost lip sync the announcer's words: If he makes the putt, the player "read it correctly" and if he misses it, "he misread it."  And when his putt rims out, you can expect to hear "he can't believe it." 

            And then there's that hushed delivery peculiar to the sport. Lots of whispering and deep breaths during putting.  A car insurance commercial running currently makes fun of this by showing golf broadcasters talking in whispery tones as a giant sea monster leaps out of the water at one hole and grabs the golfer in its tentacles.

                   Sometimes it seems like these broadcasters are desperate to liven up the usual monotonous chatter. Some  of their resulting light digs bring smiles, but also disapproval from golf officials.  This was the case when Roger Feherty noted that former U.S. Open champion Jim Furyk's swing was "like an octopus falling out of a tree."  That raised some eyebrows.  
     
            But Johnny Miller, a golf hall of famer, outdid him when he noted that the swing of one of the pros playing in a tournament "did not pass the puke test,"  a phrase you don't often hear in this gentlemanly sport. Miller observed that  Rocco Mediate, who was in a playoff with Tiger Woods for U.S. Open champion, "looks like the guy who cleans Tigers pool."  All good fun, most of the time, although Miller had to apologize for the Rocco remark.   
              
                      But even in fun, it is better to be careful and politically correct when talking golf.  Kelly Tighman of the Golf channel learned her lesson when chatting with former golf champion Nick Faldo, also a tournament  pundit.  Noting that Tiger Woods seemed to be a notch better than other competitors, Faldo laughingly said that the other golfers would have to gang up on Tiger.  Kelly then chimed in and said that the other players would have to "lynch him in a back alley."

                      Kelly's carelessness triggered screams of racism, because Woods is, of course,  an African American, and lynching tends to recall a rather ugly period in the historical relationship between the races.

              Although  I am sure no racial insult was intended, Tighman was suspended for two weeks without pay in order to impress upon her the need to be cautious and politically correct in schmoozing about the game of golf and the professionals who compete for the million dollar purses.

                       Veteran British-accented golf analyst, Ben Wright, a well-known and widely respected figure in golf and a long-time lover of the game, got fired from CBS when negative comments about women professionals were attributed to him in a magazine article. 
                       Although he vehemently claimed that he was being smeared, he was reported to have opined that women are "handicapped" in playing the game because their "boobs"  interfere with keeping their left arms straight. His views were given wide publicity on and off the air by other announcers, and the "boob" talk pretty much brought to a close his close association with the game.  Now in his 80s, it is only on occasion that he happens onto a golf tournament and agrees to chat with the commentators on duty.

                     You may get bored occasionally listening to golf analysts, but put yourselves in their shoes: The game is long and slow moving, it is often played by the same cast of characters--and what if it rains?


1 comment:

  1. I'm sure you'll get many responses from other dedicated golfers like yourself, so I'm going to comment from the other side of course.

    I don''t play the game because I learned early-on that it is frustrating and humiliating and embarrassing, providing no pleasure or happiness at all. I was so bad at it that it destroyed my self-esteem. Even one nine-hole round would ruin my whole day or weekend. In baseball I could hit the fastball pretty well, supposedly one of the most difficult feats in all of sports, but hitting that tiny stationary golf pill in a straight direction was beyond my ken.

    I reached my nadir many years ago on the 14th tee at Pensacola Naval Air Station. I was fortunately playing alone. The 14th fairway paralleled the main road into and out of the base at a distance of about 150 yards to the right.. It was shortly after 1600, quitting time, and traffic was lined-up slowly exiting through the main gate. In a masterpiece of timing, it was then that I teed-off -- slicing my drive in a long high soaring arc to the right. My ball bounced once and into the back seat of an open convertible -- driven by an officer with scrambled eggs on his hat! At that distance I couldn't perceive his rank, but his hat glittered in the sun. He was at least a Commander, possibly a Captain or even an Admiral! He jerked his head in my direction to see where the ball had come from, as I simultaneously dove behind a convenient bush. He was in traffic and couldn't stop, so I waited until he was out of sight before crawling out. I picked up the bagful of clubs I had checked-uit from Special Services and turned it in, vowing to never play this game again. For the rest of my life, I have kept that vow.

    Today, ironically, I live on a golf course, a public course in a town about 40 miles north of Chicago. I built my house here shortly before the course was developed because of the view, and the course improved it. It's called the Bittersweet Golf Course. It's built around wetlands, and 17 of it's 18 holes have water. When it opened about 18 years ago the Chicago Tribune golf critic played it to inform his readers about the new venue. "The new Bittersweet Golf Course," he wrote in his review, "is more bitter than sweet." Friends who have played the course once vow "never again!"

    I live along the golf-cart path between the fourth green and the fifth tee, and I sometimes -- from the safety of my deck -- maliciously vent my revenge on the game by shouting to players driving off the fifth tee to "Run out those ground balls!"

    I never watched golf tournaments on TV because I considered them boring and a long waste of time. Until, that is, I saw a diagram on the Internet of that shot some guy named Bubba Watson banked off a tree in the woods and onto the green to win the 2012 Masters Tournament. Phenomenal! I am now a fan.

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