First off, the answer to your question is yes: this will mercifully be the final installment of a series chronicling my week anchoring Golf Channel's coverage of the LPGA Fields Open in Hawaii. My editors insisted I finish this anthology before the 2008 tournament begins. (They're sticklers like that.)
Second, did you, like me, keep thinking of the twice-made thriller "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" at every mention of last week's PGA Tour event, the PODS Championship? Answer: of course not. (On the other hand, how can I be sure that's really you?)
What really conjured up images of that classic film was Mark Calcavecchia's apparent out-of-body experience in winning the tournament. After a wretched first-round 75, 36 of which were putts, GMT has it on good authority that Calcavecchia did indeed go to sleep Thursday night. Friday morning - after emerging from his POD, perhaps? - Calc put a different putter in the bag and shot 67. He was even better Saturday, firing a 62. If you're at all wondering how many putts Calcavecchia needed in each of those two rounds, you obviously didn't read last week's column.
I've seen both the 1956 and 1978 versions of "Snatchers." The original, like most movies made back then, was more understated and, thus, in a way more creepy. Love scenes in those days, for example, generally consisted of a quick, closed-mouth kiss followed by the camera panning to a shot of billowing curtains. On-screen romance today has all the subtlety of a Hooters waitress, except not as tasteful. They mostly relied on scripts and acting back then instead of graphically depicting the pod people squirting out of their husks. That being said, I remember soiling myself in the closing scene of the 1978 version - check it out here - in part because of Donald Sutherland's afro but mainly because of that terrifying and guttural paroxysm, which was roughly akin to the noise Heath Slocum made after missing a 4-footer that would've sent the PODS to a playoff.
Meanwhile, Calcavecchia's caddie, Eric Larson, probably did feel like a new person. Ten years in the joint for dealing cocaine tends to have that effect. But Calcavecchia never forgot his friend, gave him his bag when Larson got out of prison, and won with him Sunday. Forgiveness, loyalty, second chances. That'll preach.
Third, GMT would like to bid a fond farewell to the question of when the next wave of young American women would take root on the LPGA Tour. Not only were the first three winners of 2007 - Paula Creamer, Stacy Prammanasudh, and Meaghan Francella - born in the U.S.A., they're 20, 27, and 24, respectively. For good measure, their hometowns span the U.S. map: Mountain View, CA (Creamer); Enid, OK (Prammanasudh); and Port Chester, NY (Francella).
Francella's victory Monday in the weather-delayed MasterCard Classic is the most recent and surprising. Not because she won - Francella did that on the Duramed Futures Tour on the same weekend a year ago and was the Conference USA Player of the Year at Memphis before transferring to North Carolina - but rather because she:
1) was playing in just her seventh career event
2) slept on the second-round lead not once but twice because of weather delays
3) shot a final round 69 despite the pressure of a one-shot lead and having to play alongside Prammanasudh, who won two weeks ago, and watch Annika Sorenstam in the group ahead of them tie the course record with a 66
4) erased a two-shot deficit with four holes to play by birdieing the same 16th Annika had just bogeyed
5) won a four-hole playoff against arguably the greatest women's player ever, who won as many LPGA events last year as Francella entered
6) did all of the above while her dad, Joe, whooped and hollered from the gallery
(On the 18th hole during the second round Saturday, Joe Francella let out an unbridled squawk when his daughter rolled in a long putt for birdie. Meaghan immediately turned and shot him a look that screamed, "Daaaadddd!" As in, "You're humiliating me in front of all these people!"
But it was the kind of look that also only comes from a kid who knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that her dad loves her. Cool moment.)
I know Betsy King, in her position as U.S. Solheim Cup captain, can't overreact to a single event. And despite Monday's win, Francella is still just 21st in the U.S. standings. But here's guessing King at the very least scribbled a note in her journal about how a previously unproven New York Yankee went deep against the world's (and the European team's) best player.
And now, in the words of the great Casey Kasem, on with the countdown. We left my daily recap of the Fields Open in Hawaii broadcasts as I sawed logs Thursday evening, February 22, after the tournament's opening round.
Friday, February 23
7:30 a.m. - I meet LPGA Commissioner Carolyn Bivens for breakfast. It's not every day that one gets to butter toast with the woman who is either bringing the LPGA Tour into the world of 21st century business or single-handedly destroying the most successful women's sports organization in the world, depending on whom you ask. I'm trying to get to know her rather than cross-examine the sometimes controversial decisions she's made in 18 months on the job. Still, she has reasonable explanations for most of my questions.
Her predecessor, Ty Votaw - whom, by the way, I'm pegging now as the next commissioner of the PGA Tour - was an adherent to the time-honored apothegm that you get further with honey than vinegar. And he was probably the best commissioner this tour has ever had. But while Votaw was a good man in a woman's world, Bivens was living out the exact opposite in building a successful career in the male-dominated world of newspaper publishing. She doesn't strike me as someone particularly interested in creating a "sweet" public persona.
I debate whether to encourage her not to follow Votaw's precedent of dating tour players. I decide against it and instead offer to pick up the check. She agrees.
1:20 p.m. - Ten minutes to air in our second round coverage, and the heavens open. The horn sounds, stopping play before we ever sign on. Dottie Pepper and I prepare to tap dance around this weather delay.
1:31 p.m. - After our tease, which is the 30-second lead-in to that day's show, Dottie and I come on camera bearing the bad news of the stoppage in play. There's more bad news. Dottie's asphyxiating as she attempts to answer my first question. Something, presumably other than my question, has gone down wrong. Like any good play-by-play man, I wait for her to fight through that answer, then immediately ask her another one. (I thought she'd regained control. Not so much.)
1:32 p.m. - To say someone is trying to get her breath for 30 seconds doesn't sound like long, unless you're the person either trying to get the breath or the one who at any moment may have to administer some sort of medical care for which you are woefully unprepared and on live television no less. It's apparent that she's still not well, so I make the executive decision that we're going to go to commercial by cleverly announcing, "We're going to go to commercial." Producer Beth Hutter says in my earpiece, "Good idea," and off we go.
1:33 p.m. - Dottie's back. She was never in mortal danger. Actually, there was probably a better chance of her drowning in my sweat from the day before than in choking today. But there's scarcely a more helpless feeling than being on camera and knowing you have no air.
So that's two show opens and two bodily spasms, one from each of us. We're all square going into Saturday's final show.
1:54 p.m. - During an on-camera conversation about the women's world golf rankings, Dottie opines that Lorena Ochoa is the best player in the world right now. I pick up the LPGA media guide, hold it in front of the camera and say, "Annika, I know you're watching. This is the LPGA media guide, and for some reason you're not on the cover. What I want you to do is meet us in Mexico in two weeks for the MasterCard Classic completely hacked and ready to peel off about 10 wins this year."
(For the record, I was merely pointing out something that seemed inexplicable to me, namely the idea that you'd leave off the cover of your media guide the player who's quite possibly done more to draw attention to the LPGA than anyone in the history of the tour. Since then, it's become a major news story, with some suggesting it was Bivens getting revenge for comments Sorenstam made last year questioning some of the commissioner's decisions. It's a pot I was happy to stir.)
3:29 p.m. - We sign off, having shown precisely no live golf shots. The weather delay began 10 minutes before air time and wouldn't end until half an hour after we're off. My tootsies are tired from tapping.
6:44 p.m. - While enjoying a second straight night of sushi at one of the hotel restaurants, in walks a clearly crestfallen Meaghan Francella. She's just come off the course having missed a 4-footer on her last hole en route to a 73. Dottie tells her to keep her chin up, that it won't be the last time, and that when it's all said and done she'll have made more of those than she missed.
(Two weeks later, Francella will roll in a putt of about that length to beat Annika in Mexico. Dottie's a genius.)
Saturday, February 24
1:15 p.m. - It's the final round of this 54-hole event. We rehearse the open to what promises to be a marathon show. Because of the weather delay on Friday, we're prepared to go as long as it takes to crown a champion, probably at least four hours.
1:19 p.m. - Eleven minutes before we go on, Hutter announces through our earpieces that the decision's been made back at GC headquarters in Orlando to push our start time back to 3:30 and keep it a two-hour show. We'll pick up the leaders as they make the turn. We sit back and try to decompress the energy we'd built up preparing to go on.
2:27 p.m. - (Twiddling thumbs.)
3:32 p.m. - We're finally on. As they bring Dottie and me on camera, I surprise my partner by pulling a lei out from underneath the table and placing it over her head. She panics at the thought of one of us making an off-color joke about the floral neckwear. I opt instead for, "Hang on, Dottie, I'm lei-ing two here" and pull out another for me to wear.
4:07 p.m. - Stacy Prammanasudh and Jee Young Lee are playing great golf. Stacy P. clings to a one-shot lead.
4:21 p.m. - Cristie Kerr finishes a final round 65 that at one point had her just two strokes out of the lead, two days after she'd been penalized two strokes for the violation at 12.
4:35 p.m. - Dottie and I discuss Kerr saying she felt bullied by LPGA rules official Doug Brecht in the aforementioned matter on Thursday. Dottie, as usual, pulls no punches: "Doug Brecht doesn't have a bullying bone in his body. I think the LPGA handled this professionally and that Cristie handled it very unprofessionally."
Did I ever tell you the story of how I got Dottie started in broadcasting?
5:22 p.m. - As Prammanasudh walks up 18 with a one-shot lead, on-course reporter Kay Cockerill tells the heartwarming story of how Stacy P.'s dad came to America from Thailand, carved out a living with oil companies in Oklahoma, and tried to give his two daughters a better life than they would've had in his native land. Prammanasudh two-putts for her second career win and first with hubby Pete Upton as her caddy.
5:29 p.m. - My first tournament back with Golf Channel in 18 months is history. Solid shows, good golf, great friends.
11:04 p.m. - The best part of the week: I'm going home, but not before an all-night connecting flight to LAX with probably 20 players and caddies. In the Honolulu terminal, I ask Lorena Ochoa how to pronounce the name of the city, Huixquilucan, where the MasterCard Classic will be played. She has no idea. I feel better.
Sunday, February 25
6:31 a.m. - We touch down in Los Angeles where, because of bad weather in Dallas, I'm to find a Continental flight that will reroute me to Houston. On a whim, I ask the American Airlines gate agent if there's any room on the next flight to Dallas. He says my original flight was cancelled but the one that had been delayed since midnight is now about to leave and that not only is there room but that I can get an upgrade. I sheepishly take my boarding pass and wait with a terminal full of angry passengers with all-night airport hair. I try to sympathize with them but end up sounding like Ron Burgundy when the rest of the Channel 4 News Team protests the hiring of Veronica Corningstone: "It's terrible! She has beautiful eyes, and her hair smells like cinnamon!"
2:44 p.m. - Waiting at DFW for the connecting flight home, I peek inside the Duty Free store. Is there a goofier idea in all of retail? What better way to cap off the trip of a lifetime than loading down your carry-ons with a 500-gallon drum of Chanel No. 5 and a Toblerone bar approximately the size of Fred Funk.
5:40 p.m. - On my living room floor with A.C., who'll be five in three days. We're engaged in a hotly-contested game of Hi Ho! Cherry-O, which she wins when the spinner settles on 3. Amy and the boys come in from having been with our friends down the street.
Another tournament will Invade soon and Snatch my Body back out of town. I love calling golf, but it can wait. For now, I'm fully awake and hoping this moment never ends.
Grant Boone is a husband, father, golf broadcaster, and sports journalist based in Abilene, Texas. His column appears on PGA.com each Wednesday and every day during major championships and other big events. He can be contacted at pgagrant@hotmail.com.
The views and opinions expressed here do not reflect those of PGA.com or The PGA of America.
