Golf's world: 2 ways to chase money

 

Professional golf is like tennis, figure skating or bowling: It is sporting’s version of a high-wire act.

          If you play well, you win money. If you play exceptionally well, you win even more money. If you win a tournament, you win a lot of money. If you play golf so poorly that you have to go home after only two rounds of play, it costs you money. Your travel, food and entry fees are all on you.

          For that reason, finding sponsorship is as important for golfers as it is for racing teams. The mid-pack players who don’t usually play among the leaders can continue to play each week with help from sponsors. There is no golf tournament or even a golf tour without the players who finish in the middle of the pack or lower. The stars have to beat someone to win, don’t they?

          Professional golfers are accustomed to the high-wire lifestyle. These elite athletes play with the pressure that comes from the play good-or-go-home reality that the game provides.

          For that reason, the new professional golf tour, bankrolled by Saudi Arabia, probably looks attractive to some touring pros. The new tour offers huge purses. The Saudis have extended big-dollar offers to the game’s top players; bonus pay on top of tournament winnings that could set some golfers for life. The new tour is offering the throw money around like kids throw sand at the beach.

          The cash has attracted attention. Greg Norman, once among the world’s best players and now a tremendous businessman, is the spokesman for the new tour. Phil Mickelson, who is among the game’s most popular figures, has indicated an interest in playing on the new tour, although he has seemingly waffled on the idea. Norman and Michelson are part of the old guard. A few younger players have indicated they will play on the new tour. Tiger Woods, who remains golf’s most popular figure, declined to jump ship. Jack Nicholas declined an invitation to serve as an administrator for the new tour.

          Norman has been exceptionally critical of the Professional Golfers Association (PGA) tour since the Saudi-back group was announced. The PGA will not allow players on the new tour to participate in PGA events. Players have requested waivers but none have been granted.

          So far, lots of noise with no real discussion of the actual point.

          Saudi Arabia is using international sports to get itself a better reputation among the family of world nations. The Kingdom hosts Formula One auto races and is active on the great stage provided by international soccer. While the Kingdom’s rulers feel free to murder some journalists, sports reporters are welcomed. Human rights is a subject sports reporters seldom worry about and those rights are an issue in Saudi Arabia. It is the Saudis’ idea that those issues might be covered over with the veneer of sporting competition.

          Norman has been asked about the human rights issue and the murder of a reporter by his employers. He does his best to blow those questions off, saying his only interest is in the future of golf.

          So, basically, professional golfers have a choice. They can follow likeable fellows like Greg Norman and Phil Michelson and play on a tour backed by a Kingdom that represses women and murders reporters. Or professional golfers can play golf in the rest of the world.

          It is true that the rest of the world is not perfect. There are problems everywhere you look.

Golf isn’t perfect, either, although it is a dynamic sport and has usually changed for the better. Most professional tournaments in the United States benefit local charities. The growth of the women’s professional tour (the LPGA) over the last decade and a half is a terrific indicator that the game’s popularity is growing.

Greg Norman’s idea that golf can be used to wallpaper over repression and murder doesn’t ring true here. There is no reason to believe that Norman supports the repression of women’s rights and the murder of journalists. But he’s taking money from people who do.

Speedylee supports the PGA and LPGA tours and their tightropes. The best players make the most money, the women’s game is growing and the reporters are not getting killed.

Thanks for reading.

A Park, an Institute and an opinion

 WARNING: The following blog expresses opinions.

Some very nice news crossed this computer screen last month: The Little Round Top area at the Gettysburg National Military Park will be open for visitors when we go there in June.

          The Park is in the midst of a major repair-and-expand project at both LRT and the Devil’s Den areas. LRT was expected to be closed by early June so the workers could continue their work. But now the closure is not expected until July. If you value the Park, then you understand how important the project is. Still, it would have been disappointing to visit the battlefield and not spend time on that famous, little hill. If you ever get there, sit on a rock and listen. You can learn a lot.

          The visit to LRT will be just the beginning of an extraordinary week in Gettysburg. Two days after we arrive, the Civil War Institute at Gettysburg College will begin. The CWI is an annual conference, a gathering of the best-known scholars in the field and a lot of enthusiasts. The CWI will draw better than 400 attendees this year. Whether that’s a record or not, it’s a big bunch of folks. For many of us, it is the highlight of the year.

          One of the highlights this year will be a roundtable debate about Confederate General James Longstreet, the best general the Union side had. Yes, Longstreet was a Confederate. Yes, it says here that he was the best soldier of any rank the UNION army had. There are many who disagree with that assessment. The roundtable roster will include no less than four all-stars: Gary Gallagher, Carol Reardon and Jeffrey Wert are the panelists and Peter Carmichael will moderate. This panel and topic would attract 400 attendees if it was the only topic of a one-night argument. In fact, if it WAS a one-night event, a hockey game might break out over seating. Each year, parts of the CWI are carried live on one of the CSPAN networks. If this panel is part of that coverage, you don’t want to miss it on Sunday, June 12. Consult your local listings.

          Each year the CWI includes lectures, chances to dine in a small group with a scholar to discuss a specific topic and tours of both the Gettysburg battlefield and others. If you like history, especially Civil War history, you should at least watch on CSPAN.

          Gettysburg is an unusual place. The battlefield lends itself to photography, even though it is not a haven for artists. Its history is such that it draws millions of visitors. No American military event, save possibly the Battle of the Bulge and the decision to drop the atomic bomb on Japan, has been researched so completely.

          So, add Gettysburg to your bucket list. Watch the CWI on CSPAN, especially the Longstreet discussion. American history is right here at home and it is waiting for you to come visit.

          Thanks for reading. 

Bonneski and Clydeofski

Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow Gang,

I’m sure you must have read

How they rob and steal

And how those who squeal

Are usually found dying or dead.

 

-Bonnie Parker

 

          Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow are in the news again. This time the Depression-era killers and thieves were somehow featured photographically in Russia’s annual observation of the victory over Nazi Germany during World War II. The theme of the celebration was to honor all Russians who suffered during the war against Hitler’s invasion of Russia.

This image of Bonnie and Clyde
was shown to a Russian audience
at a national celebration recently.

          A photograph of the bandit-lovers from Texas appeared among the images of Russians who suffered during the horrible conflict in the 1940s during the state-sponsored event this week. And the Russian people did suffer horrifically after the German army invaded Mother Russia. Look it up: As much as we owe to the Red Army for the destruction to the Nazi war machine, so too do we owe to the courage of the Russian people.

          The Parker-Barrow couple died as the result of an ambush in Louisiana in 1934, nearly a decade before the Germans attacked the Russians. Further, neither Parker nor Barrow had immediate links – to my knowledge – to Russia. The guns used by Fred Hammer’s posse that killed the outlaws were of American manufacturer. Clyde preferred the American-made Browning Automatic Rifle to all other weapons. That’s ironic, since one of the weapons used by the ambushers was a BAR.

          That begs the question: Why would an image of Bonnie and Clyde be inserted among those shown at a celebration of the Russian victory over the Germans? Assuming that every image shown on the big screens at the event was intentionally shown to the Russian people at the Victory Day celebration (Vlad Putin does not seem to be the kind of guy to leave things to chance; surely the right people had control of the images viewed), there had to be a message.

          Bonnie Parker wrote poetry. The words above were part of a poem she wrote about her life on the run, The Story of Bonnie and Clyde. That poem may supply the answers to our question. Take the stanza quoted above and note the words,

How they rob and steal

and how those who squeal

Are usually found dying or dead.

 

          From what we are given to understand about the Russian President, he formally led the KGB, Russia’s state police. Bonnie’s words could be interpreted as a threat to Putin’s people: What happens in Russia stays in Russia. Otherwise, squealers, you’ll be found dying or dead.

Bonnie and Clyde.

          A more uplifting stanza could be aimed at the Russian people, telling them that things are not so bad as they seem. Bonnie wrote:

From heart-break some people have suffered;

From weariness some people have died;

But take it all-in-all,

Our troubles are small

Till we get like Bonnie and Clyde.

 

          Bonnie Parker’s poetry has a philosophical bent. For example, she wrote that, “Death is the wages of sin.” But there is no more telling point than the one she made in her final stanza. Perhaps it sums up the life expectancy of all criminals, be they elected or not. Bonnie wrote:

         

Some day they’ll go down together;

And they’ll bury them side by side;

To few it’ll be grief

To the law a relief

But it’s death for Bonnie and Clyde.

         

          The infamous couple was not buried side by side. Instead, they were interred in separate cemeteries. But the Barrow Gang’s violent ways begat more violence and finally brought about the Gang’s fall. Partially because of Bonnie’s poetry and not a little because of the trail of blood they left behind them, the Parker-Barrow tandem has never really been out of America’s consciousness. It looks like they’re as popular as ever.

          Especially in Russia.

 

Getting an early start

 

          It was a grand May day. It was late in the month, a festive time of year. The sun was out but it wasn’t too hot. We were far enough inland that there was no fog in the air. We were close to the Pacific Ocean, but not close enough for fog.

          Fittingly enough, we were gathered on a football field and we had attracted a huge crowd. Much of my professional life would later be spent at football fields where crowds packed the grandstands. This time, nobody called “set, hut,” but I would have been much more comfortable if someone had.

          Instead of footballs, platitudes filled the air. It was my college graduation. Well, mine and a few thousand very close friends. We packed the joint. My parents, other relatives and even some friends sat proud and amazed in the stands while I sat down on the field somewhere.

          “Elder graduated,” the people scoffed. “This I gotta see.”

          Now, about those platitudes. I assume there were some thrown around. Isn’t that what you do when speaking at a graduation? The world has problems, speakers say, but this bunch of geniuses will surely solve all of them. With all of the experienced and learned instructors we have at this high-class university, this group of graduates simply must be capable of leading our society to victory.

          The keynote speaker for this event was the governor of a state in Mexico. I never learned – because I didn’t care – which state he was from. I am told he spoke in Spanish, but I don’t know that for a fact. Despite my four semesters of university-level Spanish classes, I completed my education knowing very little of that language. Of course, I only took four semesters of Spanish because I failed one of them and had to re-take the class I flunked. I got credit for three semesters. There was an interpreter at the graduation to explain what the keynote guy said to the masses, so my failure to understand what the guy said had nothing to do with my ability to speak or understand that language.

          No, the reason that I have no idea what might have been said during the ceremony noting my graduation from a great American university was that I had decided to take the first step in my professional development that day. There was no reason to delay. My parents, I was certain, would understand my decision. After all, I had completed the needed work to be awarded a diploma. I was in attendance at the ceremony. I had completed my obligations. I even wore a tie under my robe and funny cap. No one said I had to listen to the speakers, whoever they were.

          Instead, using a skill developed during my elementary school years at World Series time, I listened to the broadcast of the Indianapolis 500 on a transistor radio. Remember those? I had an ear plug jammed in one ear and a finger jammed in the other ear so I could hear the broadcast over the pitifully dull proceedings which I was attending.

          Rick Mears won that day, a terrific drive against a field that included three of the four men who finished their careers with four Indy wins. I told the story years later to a docent at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Museum. He walked me down some stairs to a lower floor which is not always available to the public and said to me, “There’s the car you heard win that day.”

          Great moment.

          Even when I was still in college I knew that, somehow, auto racing would play a role in my business life. I knew I would become a sports journalist and I felt that my interest in and knowledge of racing would give me an advantage someday. It did. I eventually spent 25 years working in that industry.

          I often think about that day all those Mays ago. I love to tell the story. Mears and Foyt, the Unsers and Andretti. Janet Guthrie, whom I admired, raced that day. Many of the all-time Indy greats were in the field that year. And the race was more important to me than the ceremony I was a part of. But I will tell you something I have never admitted before: Bringing a transistor radio to the graduation ceremony was strictly against the rules. I don’t remember now what the reasoning was and I don’t care. What I do remember was that I was told not to do it. Breaking that rule made listening to the race all the sweeter.

          There were college graduation ceremonies all over our nation that day but there was only one Indy 500. And I heard it.

          Ladies and gentlemen: Start your engines.

 

 

They call it Cincinnanucky and here's why

 Today’s drive took me from northern Ohio to Louisville, Kentucky. I saw the stadiums where the Reds and Bengals play, plus the Kentucky Speedway. Somewhere in all of that I ventured near something called The Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky Regional Airport. I have a history with that airport. Not a good one, either. But what I learned during my two brushes with the place is irreplaceable because I got two great stories as a result.

          I was still a teenager the first time I ventured to step foot on that crazy, little joint. Dad sent me tickets to fly east to see him. We had a bunch of stuff planned for my visit. One of the things I wanted to do was visit the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. AGAIN. I never get enough of that place. Anyway, dad told me that I’d fly to the Cincinnati airport, change planes, then head for Indiana.

          As I recall, the flight was uneventful until we landed. That’s when the fight attendant welcomed us to KENTUCKY, told us what time it was IN KENTUCKY and informed us that we had reached KENTUCKY on time. All passengers seeking connecting flights IN THE NORTHERN KENTUCKY REGIONAL AIRPORT had arrived in plenty of time to take their next flight, taking them out of KENTUCKY. At no time did the flight attendant mention the magic word, CINCINNATI.

          I got off that plane as quickly as I could, found a phone booth and placed a collect call to my dad.

          ME: Dad! The idiot pilot screwed up! We flew to Kentucky instead of Cincinnati.

          DAD: He didn’t make a mistake. That’s the Cincinnati airport.

          ME: Dad! Cincinnati is in Ohio, right? Where the Reds play? I said I’m in KENTUCKY!

          The truth is that my geographic knowledge for anything east of Arizona and west of North America was a little weaker than it is now. But even then, I was aware that Cincinnati was NOT in Kentucky. The conversation resumed:

          DAD: The airport is right on the border with Kentucky and Ohio. It’s very close to Cincinnati, so they call it the Cincinnati airport.

          ME: Even though it’s in Kentucky?

          DAD: That’s right.

          Not all together true, as it turned out. The Cincinnati airport, the one in Kentucky, is about an hour from the Ohio line. It would be just as easy for Cincinnati fliers to drive to the Dayton, Ohio airport or the one serving the airline industry in Columbus, Ohio. Both of those airports are in Ohio, which shows truth in advertising.

          Years later, I was headed back for another go in Kentucky. Or Cincinnati. Or whatever. Once again, I was traveling to Indianapolis, this time to cover the 500 for the radio station I worked for. There was a media breakfast I wanted to attend because AJ Foyt was going to be there. I said AJ Foyt. Yes, THAT AJ Foyt. He was going to speak at this media function. I had secured tickets for dad and me to attend this event.

          But things did not go as planned when the pilots attempted to bring our plane to the Northern Kentucky airport. We circled for a while and then landed somewhere else. Maybe the pilots actually circled Cincinnati, trying to find the airport, I don’t know. After a while, they loaded us back in the plane and flew us to KENTUCKY. I had missed my connecting flight. I’d be added to the next flight to Indianapolis, scheduled to leave KENTUCKY the next afternoon.

          Well, the heck with that. I wasn’t going to skip having breakfast with AJ Foyt because of some problem, you know, wherever we were. I tried to rent a car. No rental agencies had cars. I tried to catch a bus. The airport was closed to busses because of a hideous traffic snarl at the Kentucky airport that was not in Cincinnati. But I did discover that there was a bus leaving for Indy about an hour from the time I learned about it. All I had to do was find a taxi, race to a bus station in the middle of some city that I don’t recall now and get on the bus before it left town.

          Try that sometime after midnight in the middle of Kentucky.

          But a kindly taxi driver was sitting at the curb when I walked out the terminal door. I explained my problem. He said, “Sure, kid.” Then we waited for the people who had called for the cab in the first place. When the cabbie explained that he would drop me off first, the other people were upset. Then I explained that I had arranged for my mortally ill father (who was in perfect health) to meet his idol, AJ Foyt (Foyt is my idol, not dad’s) at a breakfast that morning and I HAD to catch the bus. And the wonderful people in that cab waived off their objections. I made the bus by several minutes. Maybe I made it because I was not slowed down due to carrying my luggage. The airline had it somewhere.

          The guy I sat next to on the bus that night wanted to talk all the way to Indy. I finally asked him to be quiet and, to his credit, he did.

Dad brought shaving gear to the bus station in Indianapolis, so I would be presentable at the very professional event I was attending. As I shaved in the men’s room, Dad kept saying, over and over again, “I’ll be darned. I didn’t think you’d make it.”

But we did. Dad and I made it to that media breakfast. Dad watched as I interviewed the greatest driver in the history of the world, AJ Foyt. I know Dad enjoyed watching me interview Foyt, but he was probably prouder of my wild, late-night dash from the Cincinnati airport, wherever it is, to Indianapolis.

I’m just glad that I didn’t have to drive back to the Cincinnati airport. I might have looked for it in Ohio.

Thanks for reading.

Hit stickers and your health

                 You go to the doctor and you never know WHAT is going to happen. It’s like taking your car in for an oil change and coming out with a re-built engine. You just can’t predict the outcome.

          I attended a meeting with a doctor’s assistant recently. This individual was not a nurse. Nor was she a doctor. But she was very important or I would not have had to see her.

          “We’re going to do an EKG on you,” she told me. She began slapping hit stickers all over my chest and back. If you know football, you know what a hit sticker is. Once I had all of my stickers attached, here came the electrodes. Stick, click. Stick, click. I’d been through this procedure before. That’s how I knew I had a heart. But as I listened to the sticking and clicking, I worried about the electricity flooding backwards and zapping me into Never-Never Land. I mean, they use a million-dollar machine but even a good machine can have a backfire, right?

          After surviving the EKG and learning that I was not dead, I noticed the medical professional grabbing a stethoscope. I asked what she needed that thing for.

          “I’m going to listen to your heart,” she said.

          “Good grief,” I exclaimed. “What can that thing tell you that the million-dollar machine over there can’t tell you? I mean, first the hit stickers have to come off, which took hair with them. Now you’re telling me there was no point to that?”

          “This is the only way I can tell whether you have a heart murmur,” she told me.

          “SOMETHING’S gonna murmur pretty soon, I can tell you that much for sure,” I said. It was a good thing they checked my blood pressure before they started in with the hit stickers. We finally got the heart business under control. Good news: I still had one and it was beating without a single murmur of complaint.

          Then came the questions. At one point she asked, “Do you have any pain?”

          So, I listed my aches and pains. The medical professional was impressed.

          She asked, “How did you break your nose so many times?”

          “Just lucky, I guess,” I said. “I’ve led an active life.”

          “And your leg?”

          “I flew an unlicensed toboggan,” I explained. “The flight was smooth, but the landing sucked.”

          “Oh,” she said. “Do you feel safe at home?”

          “Sure. We don’t have a toboggan. In fact, the only time I worry now is when I see a doctor.”

          Then someone else came in, a nurse this time, and I got some kind of vaccination for something I’ve never had nor heard of.

          “Keep your arm moving today,” the nurse said. “Otherwise, your arm might hurt.”

          Swell. You go in to see the doctor feeling fine. You walk out hairless and your arm hurts.

          I didn’t even get to keep the hit stickers.

2022 Speedyleeway Awards

 The 2022 Speedyleeway Awards are listed below. Between a global pandemic, attempted insurrection, the complete lack of civil discourse and a failing economy, it was a wild year. And all that was just what happened in college football. The rest of the world was even worse off.

          These awards are invented, selected and announced by the legendary SPEEDYLEEWAY AWARDS COMMITTEE once a year, annually, and every dozen months. Two of these Awards are reoccurring, but not annual, awards. They are identified below.

 

NEWS STORY OF THE YEAR: The attempted coup by then-president Donald Trump’s followers in February.

SPECIAL K AWARD: To North Texas softball pitcher Hope Trautwein for pitching a 21-strike out perfect game against Arkansas-Pine Bluff on April 11. It was the third time Trautwein struck out 21 batters in a college game but the others did not come in perfect games.

THE ELLA McDONALD GOLDEN BOOT AWARD: To Justin Tucker of the Baltimore Ravens for setting a new NFL record with a 66-yard field goal. This is a reoccurring, but not annual, award. This award is named in honor of Ella McDonald, an Imperial (California) High School kicker in 2019.

THE DAMN GOOD MAN AWARD: To the late Robert David Clark, a World War II veteran who passed away last summer. This is a reoccurring, but not annual, award.

THE WHAT KIND OF A MESS IS THIS AWARD: To college sports in general. Some athletes will get paid for the use of their names, images and likenesses and some will never see a penny. Some coaches will complain about the transfer portal for athletes, then jump from one job to another. Some athletes will graduate from college in two and a half years as a “student” and then transfer to another school to pursue post-graduate education while playing college ball for a few more years. And television networks will push some schools to jump to the conference the network broadcasts.

THE MODEL OF CONSISTENCY AWARD: To Nick Saban and his University of Alabama football program.

THE WALKING MAN AWARD: To LSU football coach Brian Kelly for walking away from the Notre Dame football program when the Irish team was still under consideration for the College Football Playoff tournament.

THE RADIO STATION OF THE YEAR AWARD: To KXO Radio of El Centro, California. KXO broadcasts or live streams coverage of multiple local high school football seasons in Imperial County.

SUGGESTION OF THE YEAR: To the Fox Sports: Fire Joe Buck and Troy Aikman. Hire Mickey Dale and George Grijalva.

THE BOOK OF THE YEAR AWARD: A three-way tie between Front Line Talent, Murder Gets A Vote and Sunflowers and Love Notes. All three are available as paperbacks or on Kindle.

THE BOOK SERIES OF THE YEAR: To the Findlay-Webster Thriller Series. Available in paperback or on Kindle.

THE NEVER SEEN A RACE BEFORE AWARD: To the stewards of the final Formula 1 race for the 2021 racing season. Based upon their performance, they hadn’t.

THE RIGGED ELECTION AWARD: Actually, there wasn’t one.

THE HARD TO BELIEVE AWARD: Alabama quarterback Bryce Young won the Heisman Trophy, which in itself is easy to believe. What is hard to believe is that Harry Gilmer, Bart Starr, Joe Namath, Kenny Stabler, Mack Jones, Tua Tagovailoa and Jalen Hurts all played at Alabama but Young is the school’s first QB to win the award.