Joe Logan 
Vijay Singh is a sourpuss
Thursday, May 9, 2013
By Joe Logan

Like many of you, when I saw that Vijay Singh had sued the PGA Tour for supposedly damaging his reputation over this deer antler spray dust-up, I was amused.  Okay, not amused -- I sat there slack-jawed, in utter disbelief.


Why?  Because in my years covering the PGA Tour for the Philadelphia Inquirer, I had the displeasure of actually dealing with Vijay Singh on plenty of occasions.  The PGA Tour damaged his reputation?  Huh?  If you ask me, he did that all by himself.


You know that word-association game, where somebody says a word and you say the first thing that pops into your mind.  With me, mention Vijay Singh and I think, Prick.  After that, maybe, Sourpuss.


I can remember 10 years or so ago, when Vijay was at the top of his game, in the spotlight, winning tournaments and even majors.  There was no disputing that he was very good and one of the hardest workers on the Tour.  Still, whenever his name would climb to the top of the leaderboard, you could almost hear a collective groan go up in the media center.  Vijay being at or near the top of the leaderboard meant we had to deal with him.


Assuming the PGA Tour could coax him into the media center for an interview – and that was no easy task – he would sit there sullen and moody, like a hostile witness being cross-examining.  He could be insulted by the easiest, softball inquiry into his round or the tournament at hand.  The only question in my mind was whether Vijay found us more distasteful than we found him.


I never could figure out why Vijay Singh was so disagreeable.   I mean, winning over sportswriters is so easy.  Rule No. 1: Don’t be a prick.  Rule No. 2: Don’t be a prick.


The best conclusion I ever came up with was that somewhere along the line – perhaps when he was a young pro in 1985 and got suspended by the Asian tour for cheating – Vijay decided to shut down and shut out the media.  Eventually, the media stopped giving him the benefit of the doubt on anything.  You don’t like us; we don’t like you.  It’s like a bad marriage and it ain’t going to change.


(Pertinent paragraph from John Garrity’s story in Sports Illustrated in 2000.


There is nothing alleged or unsubstantiated about the fact that the Southeast Asia Golf Federation suspended Singh indefinitely for altering his scorecard in the second round of the '85 Indonesian Open in Jakarta. It's also a fact that Singh was banned from playing the Australian PGA circuit—not for cheating but for failing to pay off loans and long-distance phone bills.



In 2003, Vijay crossed swords with Doug Ferguson, the golf writer for the Associated Press, when he quoted Vijay as saying he would WD from the Colonial Tournament if he was paired with Annika Sorenstam, when she was making her historic foray onto the PGA Tour.


For quite some time after that, Vijay had no use for Ferguson.  Fergie would ask a question in a press conference and Vijay would look at him blankly, ignore the question, then call for another question from somebody else.


From time to time, you’d hear from other players that deep down, Vijay was a decent, generous, even likeable guy.  That may be, I don’t know, but he did a superb good job of not showing it to the media.


On occasion, he did rise to the level of not being a total jerk.  Once, I even saw him smile.  My most enduring image of him is as a solitary figure out on the range, long after all the other players have packed it in for the day, hitting balls into the dusk.

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Scott Nye, Merion head pro 
Merion gets ready for its star turn
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
By Joe Logan

With D-Day for the U.S. Open drawing ever nearer, Merion GC and the U.S. Golf Association yesterday gave the local media a bit of a walk-through of the venerated venue, the East Course.


It was chilly, windy, and the course is not yet in full bloom, but it looks almost ready for another star turn.


Merion head pro Scott Nye led the tour, pausing to describe a few holes and shots that he expects will be especially dramatic for players and spectators in the Open, set for June 13-16.


Even if you attended the U.S. Amateur in 2005 or the Walker Cup in 2009, you likely have not seen the new fairway bunker they’ve installed up near the green at the par 5 2nd hole.   The idea is to create true three-shotter by preventing long hitters from being able to roll their second shots to the green.


Nye also went to great length to describe the treacherous tee shot at the par 4 5th, where the right-to-left sloping fairway will kick tee balls down toward the creek running up the left side.  At the same time, they’ve moved the right rough down, to punish any player who tries to play safely to the right.


More problematic than the fairway at the 5th is the green, which could be one of the most cruel and unusual on the course.  It is beyond slippery and it runs to fast from right to left that it will no doubt the source of much conversation (and complaints) by players who find it impossible to figure out.  It will also likely prove to be one of the toughest holes all week.


At the short par 4 11th, where Bobby Jones completed the Grand Slam, they have brought the rough in on the right to side take away what is traditionally the safest place to play off the tee.  Instead, players will  be forced to flirt with the left side of the fairway, near the fairway bunkers.


Another big change is the green at the 12th, which has long been among the most unforgiving (some would say brutal) greens on the course.  The problem was the slope on the front portion of the green.   Any putt from above the hole that missed the cup could very well end up rolling off the green and down onto the fairway. For the Open, to remove some of the slope and create more potential hole locations, they raised the front of the 12th green and slightly lowered the back of the green.


Nye also showed off the new tee at the dogleg par 4 14th.  For the Open, players will actually tee off from what is currently the practice putting green, creating an even longer and more difficult tee shot.


The 15th, another long dogleg par 4, also has been made more difficult by positioning a bunker in the right elbow of the fairway, right at the 300 yards off the tee.  The choice is play to the left, lengthening the hole or try to blow it over the bunker.


At the par 4 16th, the famous quarry hole, the fairway bunker has been moved from the left side, where it presented little problem, to the center of the fairway, right in the landing area.  With the tees back, many players will be forced to lay up short of the bunker, making for a longer approach shot.


 A new back tee has also been added to the par 4 18th, which could require a carry of 260 yards to reach the fairway.  No word on whether the USGA will use the tee but it’s there if they want it.   The idea is to have most players hitting their second shots from the general cinity of where Ben Hogan hit his famous 1-iron shot in the 1950 Open. 


Afterward, chatting with Matt Shaffer, director of golf operations at Merion, it’s clear that the main concern going into the Open is Merion’s length – just under 7,000 yards.  How will today’s long hitters attack the course?


The rough will be deep and thick, putting a premium on accuracy over length off the tee, and the fairways will be tighter than usual.  But Shaffer believes the East Course’s main defense will be its greens.  When he said that, his eyes had the gleam of a mad scientist at work in his lab.

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Jim Finegan 
Jim Finegan, Update No. 4
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
By Joe Logan

I just got off the phone with Jim Finegan and he is out of rehab and doing better.  A little.  Slowly.


"It has been a perfect nightmare," said Finegan, 83, the golf historian and author, who fractured his femur when he fell on the steps in his Villanova home on Jan. 30.


After surgery and two months in rehab, Finegan returned home two weeks ago.  He’s getting around with a walker.  He is in no pain, to speak of.  His voice was strong and clear and his spirits were good, considering the ordeal he has been through  This is a man who already endured years of chronic back pain.


"I’m doing a little better each day," said Finegan.  "Some days there is more improvement than others."


His long-term prospects, frankly, remain a mystery.  "We’ll just have to wait it out and hope it improves," he said.


Earlier posts here: Update 1, Update 2, Update 3.

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Not a fan, a patron 
Why must the the Masters call them ípatrons?í
Thursday, April 11, 2013
By Joe Logan

There are many, many things to like about the Masters.  The splendor of Augusta National, the traditions and history of the tournament, the importance winning the green jacket means to the players, and, of course, the Masters is a wonderful annual rite of spring for golfers everywhere.


But there is one thing I hate and always will hate about the Masters.  It is this annoying and pretension business of referring to the spectators, or fans, "patrons."


I frankly find it grating and syrupy the way "patron" smoothly rolls off the lips of CBS’s Jim Nantz, who, let’s face it, wet-kisses the Masters and Augusta National with a reverence heretofore unforeseen.  


All of this "patron" business is obviously at the insistence of Augusta National, where members apparently do not want to entertain the prospect that the hordes wandering their golf course for the week are mere unwashed fans.  No, fans wear big cheese head hats, wave foam fingers and shout, "Ya, da man!"  You will see none of that at the Masters.


In fact, you won’t even see a non-Masters cup at the Masters.  No kidding, when you go through the airport-like medal detectors at the front gate of the Masters, you will be met by employees holding stacks of green Masters cups.  If you have a soda or cup of coffee in your hand, you will be handed a green Masters cup and asked to pour the contents of your drink to the Masters cup.  The employees are cordial enough, but you will not take another step until the transfer is complete and the offending soda bottle has been tossed into an official Masters trash bin.


That’s the way they want it at the Masters, and that’s the way it is.  Once you go enter the grounds, after all, you are entering a world that is the total creation of Augusta National.   If you don’t believe me, ask CBS.


What’s the difference between a fan and a "patron?"  I poked around the internet and found an amusing column from 2007 by Seth Davis of Sports Illustrated and CBS:


We are told, annually and often, that the people who come to Augusta are not your normal, rowdy, beery golf fans. Heck, they're not even fans. They are patrons. Or so we're told.

Don't believe it, folks. There are fans at the Masters. You just have to know how to spot 'em.

Tommy Culpepper wasn't hard to spot. He's an ursine, 47-year-old telecommunications executive from Columbus, Ga. I found him sitting cozily in his fold-up chair beside the third fairway Thursday afternoon. Culpepper flew in this morning on a private jet with seven of his buddies. If the most important guy in the group is the one who owns the plane, Tommy is the second-most important. "I'm in charge of the Bloody Mary's," he told me. "I made one gallon at my house last night. One of the other guys is the official taste tester. We met at the airport at eight o'clock this morning and started drinking right away."

This is the first difference between a patron and a fan: The patron drinks when he comes to the course. The fan starts drinking at the airport.

A few other differences Davis found between fans and "patrons:"

Some other differences between patrons and fans:

Patrons wear golf spikes. Fans wear shoes, or sandals, or shoes that have holes in them so their toes are sticking out.

Patrons tie their pullovers around their shoulders. Fans tie them around their waste.

Patrons sit in the shade. Fans soak up the sun.





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Phil and Tiger 
My money is on Tiger
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
By Joe Logan

Here’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say again:  My money is on Tiger.


Okay, that’s sort of metaphorical, because I don’t actually wager any money with a bookie or anything.  I learned a long time ago that whenever I get the itch to gamble, I might as well save myself a lot of time and aggravation by just tossing that money out the car window.


Still, if I was a betting man, I’d be betting on Tiger to win his 5th Masters this week.  Count me among the legion of skeptics who never thought Tiger would fight and will his way back from the brink to where he is today.  His swing looks better than it has in years, his confidence seems to be restored and his personal life is at not the source of embarrassment and ridicule.


Come on, the guy has won three times already this year and we’re not even out of April.  He might not be the Tiger to a dozen years ago, but the Tiger of the moment has reclaimed No. 1 in the world.


The pressure to win, of course, is on.  The chaos in his personal life, the drought in the majors, the need to get back to winning the big ones if he is ever going to catch Jack Nicklaus, is all coming to a head this week in Augusta.  If he wins, it will be great for him and great for golf.  If he fizzles, or flubs it on the weekend, the air will go out his whole campaign to restore his old life.


Truth be told, I like the Tiger of now better than the Tiger of that earlier era.  He’s got a few more miles on him now, and with that comes some perspective, maturity and wisdom.  Really, the scandal and career detour has served to make him and us realize he’s human.


Anyway, I’m pulling for him.  If he can’t win, my backup choice is for Phil to win his 4th green jacket, which would tie him with Tiger.  Damn, wouldn’t either guy winning be a great day for golf?

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My weapons of mass destruction 
2013 golf season, Iím ready!
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
By Joe Logan

I am very pleased to announce that my 2013 golf season has officially begun, or technically, is about to.  My first round of the season will be this Saturday, as the guest of a friend at Hidden Creek GC at the Jersey Shore.


With any luck, I will get out to hit a bucket of balls before Saturday, rust on the swing being what it is.


I began my season yesterday, as I always do, with the ritualistic bringing out of the clubs.  They spent most of the winter in the basement, although when the PGA Tour season cranked up in Hawaii in January, I did do a little chipping and putting on the carpet in front of the TV, addictions being what they are.


The ritualistic bringing out of the clubs involves dusting them off, followed by a full inspection.  Several of my irons still had mud caked on them from my final round of 2012 on a wet, chilly day in December.   I filled the sink with scalding water and suds and went to work with a stiff-bristled brush.


I don’t know about you but I also start each new season with a thorough scrubbing of my grips.  It’s amazing how hot water, suds and scrubbing can revitalize grips that have turned dry and slippery.


The grip on my driver was a bit worn so I took it down to my basement shop and put on a new grip, adding an extra layer of tape on the shaft.  If you don’t re-grip your on clubs, I highly recommend you learn to do so.  It’s easy, not to mention much cheaper and faster than sending them out.


Next, I purged my bag of accumulated crap and crud, such as a small white towel that had managed to end up stuffed into the bottom of bag, where it had wrapping itself around the grips.  Nothing is more important than going through the little valuables pouch where I keep ball markers and do-dads.  For years, I marked my ball with a coins I picked up over the years at the British Open.  These days, I favor those magnetic markers that you clip to the bill of your cap.  I now have a colorful collection of those little interchangeable markers.


While I was at it, I put a handful of tees in the bag and put a fresh 9-volt battery in my range finder.  I bought five dozen balls on sale at the end of last season, so I’m good to go orb-wise.


I do not plan any major club changes for ’13.  My driver (TaylorMade) is finally cooperating (knock on wood), and my irons (TaylorMade) are more forgiving than I could possibly ask.  Last year, my big club acquisition was a couple of new wedges (Titleist), 56 and 60 degrees, and I still like them both.  I know carry two hybrids (Titleist), 19 and 21 degrees.  My longest iron is my 5.


The big question mark, as always, is my putter.  Putters and putting in general hate me.   Actually, putters and putting mock me, play with me, like a cat amusing itself batting around a ball of yarn.  Seriously, when I pull my putter out of the bag and walk toward the green, I can feel my sphincter tightening with each step, even on the rare occasion that I am facing a mere tap-in.  My regular golf buddies find it hilarious.


Currently, my plan is to start the season with the same putter I ended ’12 with – a heel-shafted Cleveland mallet.  I do this knowing full well that Mr. Cleveland could fail me, betray, humiliate me at any time, joining a long line of putters that have failed me, betrayed me, humiliated me.  When that happens – it is only a matter of time – Mr. Cleveland will be cast out of my bag and into the basement to collect dust with my 20-odd putters of all makes and models.  I will pick a new (old) one from the collection and the cycle of love and betrayal will begin anew.


One of the big changes I’m expecting to make for ’13 is a new head cover for my driver.  My sister down in Raleigh has taken up knitting and she has promised to knit me a new and colorful head cover.  (No pressure, Jane, but my old head cover is starting to unravel.)  Her first project for me was a scarf, which I mistook for comforter for my bed when I took it out of the box.  I assured her it would be the first thing I pack if I ever go to Antarctic.


So, anyway, I’m ready.  Let the season begin.

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April Fools
Monday, April 1, 2013
By Joe Logan

I’ve never been big on April Fool’s jokes and neither was anybody else in my family.  In fact, the only one that comes to mind was when I was in grade school.


I distinctly remember waking up one morning and seeing my father sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at me.


"School’s cancelled," he said enthusiastically.  "It’s snowing!"


"Really?" I said, bolting upright. "Snowing?"  I don’t know which excited me more: no school or the prospect of spending the day sledding.


Then, of course, it hit me that we lived in North Carolina and spring was already busting out all over.  It probably didn’t snow a half-dozen times in my entire boyhood, and even it did, it was rarely more than an inch or two and it was melted within a day or two, tops. I just checked and today’s high in my old hometown is going to be 73.


Speaking of busting out, that’s exactly what my father did – busted out laughing.  "April Fools."


I sank back into my bed, bummed.

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