Huff’s Stuff AZGA Golf Blog – Arizona Golf Authority
If you’re looking for the winner of this week’s British Open at Royal St. George’s, don’t pick Rory McIlroy, the heavy favorite with the bookies.
First of all, Royal St. George’s is way too quirky for the favorite to prevail. Known for its bizarre bounces and hard-pan fairways and greens, who knows where the ball will end up. And then you add in the weather. . . .
As Ahwatukee’s Robert Garrigus put it recently: “If the wind blows, I might hit a few 500-yard drives and 250-yard wedges, and if the wind is coming from the other direction, a couple of drives and wedges maybe half that far.’’ He wasn’t kidding although he was laughing when he said it.
Here’s another reason that McIlroy won’t win: Of the past 11 major championships there have been 11 different winners. That, of course, is because Tiger Woods hasn’t won in the past 12 majors, a streak that will go to 13 due to his absence in Sandwich, England.
McIlroy does fit the 20-something trend, meaning the last four majors have been won by guys in their 20s, the Northern Irish superstar being 22. And even though nobody’s swing looks better, McIlroy hasn’t competed since he won the U.S. Open at Congressional Country Club in record fashion, and that rust will rear its head on a salty course like Royal St. George’s, where “the Open Championship’’ has been contested 14 times.
Luke Donald and Lee Westwood would seem to be the prime favorites, and not just because they are No. 1 and No. 2 in the world, respectively. But both are well into their 30s, Donald being the younger at 33, so they defy the trend, and more to the point, neither has proved to be a closer on the game’s biggest stages.
Martin Kaymer, the big German from Paradise Valley, is No. 3 and fading fast chiefly because he made a swing change that’s not there yet. Spain’s Sergio Garcia has had some success in the British, but he suffers from the same malady as Donald and Westwood, even though Garcia is the fifth most-popular pick by the bookies, just ahead of America’s hope, Steve Stricker.
But Stricker won last week, so he’s not going to be the guy, and Northern Ireland’s Graeme McDowell, also high on the bookies list, hasn’t sniffed it since the 2010 U.S. Open, and even more disturbing, has blown several leads in recent times.
Which brings us to the “real’’ favorite this week, Jason Day. The young Australian is 23 and has runner-up finishes in both the Masters and U.S. Open, where he kind of came out of the blue to secure second while not really threatening Charles Schwartzel at the Masters or McIlroy at the U.S. Open. Day fits the criterion – he’s never won a major and he’s in his 20s, which is good enough with us.
Still, chances are great that it’s somebody further down the form chart, like a Nick Watney, Dustin Johnson or Hunter Mahan, who all fit the first major/in their 20s criterion. Either that, or maybe this could get really crazy (again), like when long shot Ben Curtis won in 2003, the last time they played the Open at Royal St. Georges.
If that’s the case, we like Garrigus, a guy playing in his first British with a driver that is capable of traveling 500 yards.
“I’ll just bomb it and go find it,’’ Garrigus said of his strategy, which might work as well as any when it comes to Royal St. George’s.
Huff’s Stuff AZGA Golf Blog – Arizona Golf Authority
Even though there will be 11 residents playing in this week’s 111th edition of the U.S. Open, the guy from Arizona who might know famed Congressional Country Club the best is not in the 156-man field.
That’s because Tom Weiskopf, who captured the 1995 U.S. Senior Open at Congressional, builds golf courses these days rather winning scores. But in every way, the Scottsdale architect is the perfect source to handicap this national championship.
“It’s a shot-maker’s golf course, where you have to maneuver around corners and really move the ball in order to score,’’ reported Weiskopf of the 7,574-yard, par-70 layout that is essentially the work of the late Robert Trent Jones and his son, Rees Jones, who has rearranged it twice in the last five years while rebuilding every green.
“Congressional is such a neat course, a long hitter’s course, with a lot of elevated tees that favors the high-ball hitter. ’’
Whether or not those specs fit any of Arizona’s finest, remains to be seen. That list from the land of tall cacti includes Scottsdale’s Aaron Baddeley, Paul Casey, Martin Laird, Ryan Moore, Geoff Ogilvy, Chez Reavie, Kevin Streelman, Kirk Triplett and Bubba Watson; Robert Garrigus of Ahwatukee; and Arizona State senior/amateur Scott Pinckney of Tempe
When Weiskopf won at Congressional, the golf course ended exactly like it will this week, with a rugged, 523-yard, par 4 that plays down the hill and slopes towards the water. By comparison, when Ernie Els captured the U.S. Open in 1997 at Congressional, the course ended on a par 3, which Rees Jones made the 10th hole, a move that is certain to make Congressional more difficult as players come down the stretch.
But as Weiskopf pointed out, the course can take its toll thanks to eight par 4s that play between 466 and 523 yards, as well as the par-5 ninth hole that rambles on for 636 yards. Ironically, the ninth hole isn’t the most demanding; that would be the 579-yard 16th that plays straight up the hill.
He also noted that his winning score at Congressional of 5-under par is a testament to the course’s toughness. By comparison, Els had a 4-under total.
“There really isn’t any let-up at Congressional, in that you’ve got to be focused on every hole,’’ said Weiskopf, who posted three consecutive rounds of 69 there and then polished his four-shot victory over Jack Nicklaus with a 68 to join Gary Player as the only players in Senior Open history to shoot all four rounds in the 60s.
“That’s really what I remember most about what was one of my biggest moments in golf: I was so focused. About the only other thing I remember is I was in one of those really great moods, and those didn’t come along often enough.”
“The only other time I probably played as well, at least when it came to hitting fairways and greens and really controlling my ball and my patience, was a couple of those runner-up finishes at Augusta (National).’’
Ah, yes, Weiskopf, who has mellowed considerably since turning 68, won 16 times on the PGA Tour and five times on the Champions. His biggest thrill came in 1973 when he captured the British Open at Troon. But he is probably best known for his dubious distinction of just missing the green jacket a record four times, with two of those runner-up finishes being to Nicklaus. He also was a runner-up in the 1976 U.S. Open to Jerry Pate at the Atlanta Athletic Club.
Weiskopf, who like Nicklaus grew up in Ohio and was an All-American for the Buckeyes, said beating Nicklaus in the U.S. Senior Open was special. But he also didn’t attach a lot of significance to the win affecting their rivalry.
“I think the thing I remember most about the Senior Open at Congressional is that I kind of knew I was going to win it right from the get-go. I was playing good,’’ said Weiskopf, who splits his time these days between Arizona and Bozeman, Montana. “Plus, I had practiced prior to the tournament, and I NEVER practiced for most of my senior career.
“I guess I remember Jack finished second, but I don’t remember by how many strokes. Considering it was Jack that I beat, heck that was good enough because it didn’t happen very often.’’
So who is Weiskopf’s pick to win the national championship at Congressional this week?
“Oh, probably somebody like an Ernie Els,’’ he said of the guy who edged Colin Montgomerie by a stroke in ’97 after Scottsdale’s Tom Lehman had self-destructed on the 71st hole with a 7-iron into the water.
“A player who hits it long and high and can really work the ball around the corners. That’s your winner.’’
In other words, a player who has the skills that Tom Weiskopf once did.
He was the part of me that few readers ever saw, but he influenced my columns about golf more than I realized. Best of all, he loved everything I wrote, unconditionally.
He was my biggest fan, and I was his. For 10 fun-filled years, we were a happy-go-lucky team. I would write the columns, fuss over them, and rewrite them. All the while, Sampson, my big, black Lab, lay faithfully under my desk, nuzzling my feet as I talked to myself. I’m sure my socks didn’t always smell that great, and sometimes the hours would drag on endlessly, but he never seemed to mind.
Complaining wasn’t part of Sampson’s game. In fact, he was perhaps the most gracious, trusting, contented, loyal dog a man could ever know, his tail constantly wagging or pounding the floor. We used to joke that we should have named him “Thumper’’ because that tail just never stopped.
But last week, cancer took “My Boy,’’ and I haven’t been able to write a word about golf since. It wasn’t like we were unprepared; he was diagnosed with the illness back in March.
I suppose such stinging sadness isn’t that unexpected, when you consider Sampson’s most amazing attribute was that he could make me happy, instantly – and I’m not exactly an easy guy to make happy.
“What’s going on, Bill?
But all he had to do was cock his head off to the side, as if to say, “What’s going on, Bill?’’ Then he would simply explode with excitement after deciphering our code of “walk’’ or “ball’’ or “park.’’ By the time he would finally quit bucking like a bronco and barking like a lunatic (Sampson was louder than Lassie!) my mind was miles away from what had consumed me for most of the day.
He could do that – get me out of a funk quickly — and he did it often. That’s why I’d always miss “Sampy’’ almost as much as he missed me when I’d go off on week-long trips to, say, the Masters or a U.S. Open or a golf event of some kind. He hated it when I was gone even though we’d talk by phone – my kids would put the receiver up to Sampson’s ear, and he’d jump back and stare at it in disbelief. My homecoming was always the best of times for both of us.
Change of Heart
It was a relationship that almost didn’t happen. I remember that in the late ’90s, I had decided I’d had enough dogs for a lifetime. We had owned three great ones – Kota, Xena and Annie – and in the span of a year, two had died of illness and the other was stolen from our backyard. So when my son called one day from a farm in Chandler, telling me he had found “the most precious Lab puppy in the world,’’ I told him to forget it.
“You’ve got to come see this pup. He looks just like ‘Bone’ — big head, beautiful eyes, jet-black fur,’’ my son pleaded, comparing the pup to my cousin’s one-of-a-kind hunting dog in Iowa named Bone.
I told him, “No, absolutely, not.” But by the second (or third?) call, I agreed to come check out the pup. As you probably guessed, it took about five seconds for me to say, “Sure.’’ After much debate, we named him Sampson Bonaparte II in honor of Bone, and that was the beginning of our story.
“Ball”
Not that Sampson was the perfect pup; he chewed up his share of garden hoses and plants/flowers. But through the years, as the kids set out on their own, Sampson and I grew closer and closer until we were absolutely each other’s best friend. “Ball’’ was our favorite game – especially the version we played in the pool — and most every day ended with “walk.’’
Naturally, there was nothing Sampson and I liked better than taking our annual trip to Whitefish, Montana, where we have a second home. It’s true that I enjoy playing golf at Whitefish Lake Golf Club more than any place on Earth. Sampson’s thing was the 1,200-mile journey in the SUV through Arizona, Utah, Idaho and, finally, Big Sky Country. However, the biggest deal about Whitefish was — hands down! – Sampson and I were “gone’’ together.
That unbreakable bond we built over those years is why it came as such a crushing blow when Sampson was diagnosed three months ago with hemangiosarcoma, a rapidly growing cancer that involves the cells that line blood vessels. His illness came out of nowhere. One day he simply didn’t bark like a lunatic or buck like a bronco at dinnertime. Instead, he rested that big head on my leg and refused to eat, his sad eyes telling me that something was really, really wrong.
As it turned out, my veterinarian determined that Sampson, who had always been very healthy and fit, had a tumor on his spleen. The good news was the tumor could be removed. The bad news came shortly after taking out the spleen — the tumor was malignant.
Even though one-third of those tumors are benign, Sampson wasn’t that lucky. What I didn’t know was that one in every three dogs develops some form of cancer, and more than half of those dogs die. Worse: The cancer rate is higher in Labradors.
Suddenly, I couldn’t write or do much of anything as I tried to figure out our options. Even though my vet advised me against chemotherapy for Sampson – “most dogs don’t live past two months’’ — he gave me the card of an oncologist at Arizona Veterinary Specialists in Gilbert.
Leap of Faith
I’ll admit, initially I wasn’t going to put Sampson through it. Chemo is hard enough on people, so I figured it would be too much for a dog. But Dr. Lynn Beaver, who has lots of love for her patients, convinced me otherwise. She cited facts, like many dogs with Sampson’s type of cancer can live an additional five to seven months or even longer IF you catch it early enough.
It was a huge leap of faith for me, not wanting to make things worse for Sampson. I was just hoping that I could get him another six months or so.
The risky part was that Sampson’s spleen wasn’t the only organ the cancer had touched; the liver also was involved. The gamble was that the little nodule of cancer on the liver that also had been cut out during surgery wouldn’t come back to haunt us. It was a tough call, but since we’d already lost once on Sampson’s health, we were crossing our fingers that maybe we’d get lucky this time around.
So in mid-March, Sampson and I began the chemo, five sessions spaced three weeks apart and lasting into June. Fortunately, Sampson was a whole lot braver than his “Dad.’’ Each session lasted about two hours, with Sampson getting stuck with needle after needle and me pacing nervously in the parking lot.
Dog lovers understand this slightly altered yet well-known quotation: “To err is human, to forgive canine.’’ We also know that without a doubt, dogs are “man’s best friend.’’ And most of us have seen the movie or read the book “Marley and Me’’ and cried like babies, because if you are a dog lover, there is no in between.
All of these crazy thoughts and more were swirling in my head when I was trying to make the right choice for Sampson. So what happened next — right in the middle of all this life-changing turmoil – just might have been the biggest shocker of all.
Knowing that our time together was growing short, and wanting to get everything I could out of each day, I quit drinking. That’s right, a guy who consumed a couple of glasses of wine almost on a daily basis gave it up to be with his dog as we traveled down this unknown road together.
The results, my results, were astonishing. Instead of one walk to the park every day, we began to take two, then three, and then four walks daily. We even expanded our routes throughout Tempe to include the ASU Research Park. Sampson adored the park’s lake-laden landscape and would signal our arrival every time — even when his booming bark began to fade from the treatments.
Sampson & China
For 72 straight days, we walked and talked about life – Sampson, me and my other dog, China, an American Bulldog-mix who was Sampson’s lifelong companion. And almost every day we discovered something new, as we stopped to smell the roses – Sampson and China being more into the smell part while I did most of the discovering.
Just as hard to believe, we got up earlier and earlier, until this past month we had been rising at the crack of dawn. Believe it or not, the sun comes up in Arizona at 5 a.m. sharp. I just never knew it, as my old routine didn’t really get going until 8 a.m. or later.
Food for Thought
Meanwhile, Sampson endured the chemo like a champion. Even though he became badly nauseated after each of the first three sessions (at least for a day or two), he always bounced back. What was unexpected was he quit eating meat in any form, replacing that one-time staple of his diet with carrots, apples, raspberry scones and a nightly ice cream sandwich. As Dr. Beaver put it: “Let him eat whatever he wants,’’ and that’s exactly what we did.
At the same time, I constantly wrestled with the dilemma of whether or not Sampson physically could handle another chemo session, and was this awful stuff we were putting in his body really making a difference? I also was bothered by his on-and-off cough, which Sampson usually dismissed with a wag of his tail.
But we kept moving forward, trying to be as brave as possible because I wanted so much for Sampson to rally so we could go to Montana for one last summer. And the truth was, he still looked great after three sessions. Even though his whiskers were turning gray, his body seemed to be holding up, and he still pranced – his favorite form of walking – all the way to the park and back, even on his bad days.
Then last Thursday something happened in the middle of the night. I awoke to find him panting, which was not a good sign. When I let him outside, he immediately lay on the grass and wouldn’t come back into the house. When I finally coaxed him inside, he bee-lined for the bathroom, where he started drinking from the “dog pond’’ rather than his bowl filled with water. That’s really strange, I thought.
The following morning, he was still in the bathroom, which was very odd for a dog that often slept in my bed, or at least at the foot of my bed. It was if he was trying to get away or hide from me. One look into his eyes as I rounded the corner sent me into a panic.
Fortunately, Sampson remained calm as his master was falling apart. Even though the big guy could hardly walk to the car for the trip to the vet, and even though we had to use a gurney to transport him from the car into the clinic, Sampson never lost his cool. I wish I could have said the same, just for his sake.
According to Dr. Beaver, more tumors had grown on Sampson’s liver, and he was bleeding internally. There was a chance the bleeding would stop, she told me, “but it will come back.’’
That’s when I had to make the most difficult decision of my life, and truthfully, it hurt like hell. But it must have been the right one, because shortly before he departed this world, Sampson turned to me and gave me two sloppy kisses right on the mug. And then he very gently put his head between his paws like the dignified companion he’d always been and left me here alone, trying to figure it all out.
“Sampy”
I’m still trying. I guess if we had to do it all over again, we would still fight the fight with everything we could muster. Yes, the chemo didn’t work, but the experience brought us even closer, and considering that inseparable connection that already existed, that was truly remarkable.
To be honest, I’m not sure about anything else just yet. But given the circumstances, I’ll probably always look back on our great adventure with the Big C as more of life-changing experience for me than anything I was able to do for Sampson.
That’s why I decided to write this tribute to my best friend, “My Boy’ who used to snuggle at my feet while I kept writing about golf. I know Sampy would have enjoyed it, simply because he loved everything I wrote. Unconditionally.
Don Rea, PGA – Managing Partner – Augusta Ranch Golf Club
Choosing Don Rea, managing partner at Augusta Ranch Golf Club, as the 2nd recipient of the AZGA Golf Star award was easy. You won’t meet another golf industry person more enthusiastic about growing the game and making sure customers are happy than Don.
Interestingly enough, Don’s first love was not golf, it was baseball. Not pitching, hitting or catching, but rather, calling the games. He was a professional baseball umpire from 1991-98, working 3 years in the Triple A Pacific Coast League. But after 8 years of calling balls and strikes and working many Major League Spring Training games, he didn’t know if he would make it to the Big Leagues.
“It’s really tough to move up, and I couldn’t catch a break.” said Rea. “As a Triple A umpire, you have a very short window to be assessed for promotion to the Major Leagues as the ruling panel may only see you once or twice a year. So I started to look for Plan B.” Via an off-season gig with UPS during the holiday season, the new plan came clearly into focus.His route included downtown Mesa with a stop at Riverview Golf Course.
It was there he met and became friends with General Manager Jim Mooney who suggested he consider becoming a member of the PGA. Don liked the idea so much he took his clubs on the road the following baseball season and played whenever and wherever he could. He studied through the wee hours and passed his PGA exam on his first attempt the very next year. “In golf, I could not be more blessed; if you can get to where God wants you to be, the doors seem to open,” commented Rea.
The first door opened in 1999 at Augusta Ranch, where he was one of the first employees to be hired. He worked part time in the cart barn and measured yardage for all the sprinkler heads. It wasn’t long before he realized golf looked more promising than baseball and he took the plunge full time. Over the next 8 years, he held a variety of positions, eventually becoming a Vice President for the management company managing the two courses.
Don Behind the Plate for MLB Spring Training
July 2008 brought another milestone in Don’s golf career when he and a group of investors bought Augusta Ranch and he became the managing partner. “Owning a course is challenging and rewarding,” said Rea. “But the best thing is being able to do whatever you want to do without multiple layers of approval. We can try all sorts of ideas and see what happens. We make some mistakes, but we learn from them.”
The team at Augusta Ranch is all about being anti-cookie-cutter. Take movie night, which happens twice a year on the driving range, allowing families to enjoy an outdoor picnic on the golf course. How about setting up the practice range as the gathering place for the annual community picnic? “It’s important to be a good neighbor, and it gets people out to the course,” commented Rea. “They may not play golf the first time, but after the movies and picnics, many of them come back to take up the game later.”
The creativity doesn’t stop there. There’s the $5 lesson gathering for kids every Saturday, the after-school golf program, the monthly play-all-you-want pass, weekly golf leagues, tournaments and the Green Jacket Club.
While all of this creativity has driven more rounds and revenue to Augusta Ranch, Don believes the one thing that really makes the course different is his team and their commitment to welcome and appreciate each guest. Every new employee must read ‘Raving Fans’ within the first 3 weeks of employment. Then they take a 10-question test and if they fail, they risk losing their job.
Don and the Augusta Ranch Staff
“I believe bad habits are ingrained, so we review everyone within 3 weeks of their start date, give them a little test, talk about our service philosophy and ask a lot of questions about their job,” explained Rea. “It not only helps the employees, it helps us improve our internal communications.”
While Augusta Ranch takes the bulk of his time, Don still finds the hours to volunteer. He is currently secretary of the Southwest Section PGA and on the Board of Directors of the Arizona Tourism Alliance. “My family and I depend on golf for our livelihood, so you have to get involved,” said Don. “You must be in a seat at the table or everyone eats without you.”
We have no doubt professional baseball’s loss is our golf community’s gain. Don’s a creative professional who works hard at our game for the benefit of those around him, which is why we call him an “Arizona Golf Star”.
If you’re looking for the winner of this week’s British Open at Royal St. George’s, don’t pick Rory McIlroy, the heavy favorite with the bookies.
