Mr. Adler has the tee …

Let’s first push aside any notion this hinges on science. Neither of us has studied infectious disease, and so we are settling the question from the same basically informed perspective that it’s safe to resume conducting professional golf tournaments. So the question isn’t if 156 caddies unduly add to the human footprint, but if they are essential to the event.

And I say they absolutely are.

Cameramen and audio technicians will be there, so let’s remember why we watch golf on TV in the first place. Because the game contested at its absolute highest level is compelling. You, Sam, and your hacker friends might enjoy seeing a fit and well-dressed pro brought down a peg or two by hoofing his own bag, but this is the same base impulse at play when you smirk at a tabloid headline about the Royals or Brad Pitt. It’s golf schaudenfreude, and don’t try to masquerade it as anything else.

A biathlete carries a rifle on his back as he races his lungs out on skis, but that sport is primarily about fitness. Perhaps you’ve only experienced it in accidental spurts, but golf is a subtle exam of skill and strategy. It’s why we’re treated more than occasionally to battles across generations, like Tom Watson nearly winning The Open at 59 or Davis Love III winning a PGA Tour event at 51. In a world where pros carry their bags, over the course of 72 holes fitness (and thus age) will become a disproportionate factor. No disrespect to the Bo Hoags and Harry Higgs of the tour, but we’ll see a lot more 20-somethings hanging on to win while Phil Mickelson bogeys out and Tiger Woods withdraws. Thrilling.

Not that you’d ever play four consecutive rounds of rattlebottom, but the mental drain of performing close to mistake-free for that period of time is hard to overstate. These guys carry intricate green maps not just to read putts, but to plan the speed and spin of approach shots to get the ball to feed just right off contours into straight, uphill looks at birdie. These guys play chess across 7,400-yard boards, but it becomes checkers when their mental attention is occupied with cleaning grooves, wiping balls, pacing sprinklers and juggling rakes.

In these first events back, presumably, most of the entourage (agents, trainers, psychologists, family and friends) is not going to be permitted. Give a tour pro at least one man upon whom he can rely. For the sake of the quality of your own entertainment.

Of course, golf is better with caddies. I have a son who is a caddie. Carts don’t find my errant drives, they’re useless on club selection, and I can’t tell you the last time one offered an encouraging word after I’ve skulled a wedge. In the words of former presidential candidate John Kerry, I was for caddies before I was against them.

But the issue here isn’t whether caddies add to the golf experience. Instead it is, like everything these days, delineating between what is essential and non-essential. When tech companies are looking to launch, they call it identifying the “MVP”— minimum viable product. And for professional golf as it precariously seeks to resume its schedule, viability hinges on safety, entertainment value and competitive integrity.

A PGA Tour “MVP” does not depend on caddies, and when it comes to safety, their presence is counter to the objective. Start with the obvious: restricting caddies would avoid the inevitable close interaction with players. But there would be subtler implications as well. No caddies means 156 fewer bodies to feed and shelter, and to sidestep gingerly around at practice areas and in parking lots. Most importantly when it comes to the most valuable commodity, it’s 156 fewer people who would need to be administered a COVID-19 test. We start running low on those and events are getting scrapped altogether.

As for entertainment, the tour’s primary objective in the absence of fans on site is to produce compelling live content, an opportunity magnified by the conspicuous void of sports everywhere else. Save for some notable exceptions—Steve Williams violently ripping away a photographer’s camera, for instance, or Michael Greller engaged with Jordan Spieth in a prolonged, overly intricate debate over shot selection—caddies rarely make the highlight packages.

Lastly there’s the competitive makeup of the event, admittedly one element that would be altered by the absence of caddies, but not fatally so. In recent days, tour players like Adam Hadwin have expressed reservations about competing without rakes in bunkers or with flagsticks remaining in holes, so you can imagine how they’d resist having to take a cart, or better yet, carrying their own bags. But would anyone really question if they’re still playing golf? Is this not how they were all recently playing at the highest levels of the college game?

Perhaps the best comparison is the NHL and NBA, leagues that are both exploring playoff tournaments held without fans, which is far more consequential than in golf because it eliminates the decided advantages of playing before a home crowd. But even then, the core game is intact. The best score wins.

LOW GROSS: Like another one of your 5 for 4’s, I concede your point on minimum viable product. I will be tuned in when Rory McIlroy, Dustin Johnson, Rickie Fowler and Matt Wolff play best-ball skins at Seminole on May 17 in four carts with no caddies. It’s fantastic that with a modified format golf can the first major live sport to be broadcast since the world shut down. But as far as an official PGA Tour event, there’s a standard there we shouldn’t mess with.

LOW NET: Maybe so, but this harrowing moment is forcing us to rethink how everything works. It’s why Jimmy Fallon is hosting the “Tonight Show” from home, and why our kids are attending school over Zoom in their pajamas. These are not choices made between the best version of something or one stripped to its core. With safety paramount, it’s the choice between the simple version, or nothing at all.

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By Thanksgiving, Woods was a two-time winner on the PGA Tour and my first gig was over almost as soon as it began. The magazine went under—I refuse to take all the blame—and I had already migrated to cover golf at a local newspaper.

I suppose it’s weird to only have covered golf through the prism of one incredibly disruptive figure. It would be like if your introduction to covering presidential politics was through the Donald Trump Administration. And then if Trump remained president for the next 22 years.

Related: Tiger Woods’ historic final round in pictures

Professionally, though, I have never known golf without Tiger Woods, and those of us who work in golf media have been tethered to him in some capacity for decades. I can’t say I know Tiger personally, and I doubt he knows me. The number of times we’ve had one-on-one exchanges I can count on one hand, and even then only for a few minutes: in a locker room in Charlotte, walking out after a press conference in Doral. In 2006, when he showed up at Winged Foot for a practice round weeks before the U.S. Open, I tracked him down in a private area off the dining room. He smiled at me, recognized me as a familiar golf writer, then politely said he didn’t want to talk.

Still, I’ve spent a sufficient amount of time around Woods, asking questions in press conferences, crouching greenside while he putts. One year at the Ryder Cup I wrote a story in which I endeavoured to study everything — facial expressions, verbal tics, the faces of fans as he walked by. Another time I decided to interview everyone Woods came into contact with at a tour stop: other players, walking scorers, even the waitress at the restaurant where he ate one night during the week.

I say none of this to impress you. To cover golf during this period and not try to find inventive ways to talk about Woods would border on malpractice. There are only so many ways to say someone has a good short game.

Augusta National

But I do feel like I’ve been afforded a certain perspective on Woods, and particularly, how wildly we swing from one extreme to the next when charting his progress. Turns out at his height, even in playing golf better than anyone in history, Woods was destined to fall short of the image we projected on him. And in the depth of scandal, injury and addiction, he was never that bad. People tend to deal in absolutes these days, but Woods is just another guy who struggles to navigate the vast space between his best and worst self.

The only thing we can say for sure is that Woods’ redemption story is real, all born from the painful wreckage of his personal and professional life. And it’s why his 15th major title was met with more raw emotion than the 14 that preceded it. Back then people revered Woods because he seemed perfect. The reason we appreciate him now is because of how starkly we’ve been reminded he’s not.

The prospects in the aftermath of his win at Augusta are exciting. Woods will play the next two majors at venues where he’s won, and the pursuit of Jack Nicklaus’ career major record is back on. Already there is a discussion that Woods can provide the stagnant golf industry a jolt similar to one he provided decades earlier.

It all reminds me of those heady days early in both of our careers when the possibilities seemed endless. But I hope, for everyone’s sake, that we recognize the patterns that brought us down this road in the first place. Even as Woods continues to deliver on the spectacular, it’s still as someone who fights many of the same flaws as the rest of us. The last thing he needs is a breathless public equating an improved driver swing or stabler family life with new expectations even he can’t sustain.

Golf is hard. Life can be, too. Rather than put Woods back on a pedestal, I choose to admire the man for simply finding a way back to his feet.

The post Let’s not blow it this time with Tiger Woods appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

By Sam Weinman
Two competing narratives emerged from the build-up and then aftermath of the 100th PGA Championship. Going in it was how uninspired a venue Bellerive Country Club was for a major championship. The other was how riveting the final round there ended up being. This leads to an inevitable but perhaps still uncomfortable question: do we place disproportionate importance on the golf course itself when assessing majors?

Certainly it’s not to suggest that all courses are created equal, and those of us who play the game would almost certainly choose to play a great golf course over one that’s rather forgettable. But as it relates to the actual entertainment value of major competition, Bellerive at least invites a reassessment of the course’s role in the finished product. Hence this point/counterpoint between Alex Myers and myself.

Don’t be ridiculous, of course the golf course matters: As the great philosopher/celebrity golfer Yogi Berra once said, I felt like I had déjà vu all over again while watching the 100th PGA Championship. A week after the PGA Tour went to the homogenous Firestone Country Club for the final time, it took on the equally bland Bellerive Country Club for the first time in a decade. And I was surprised to learn Bellerive isn’t French for “dogleg left.” While the St. Louis course produced a star-studded leader board and a fantastic finish — two things that are easily the most essential to a memorable tournament — the track itself was forgotten as soon as Brooks Koepka put on his cape and flew away. Whereas a great course forges an added layer of connection with golf fans through recognizable holes — and helps build buzz before and during an event (Unlike, “Did you see where Brooks hit his tee shot on… um… that par 4?”) — I’m not sure that even fans who watched all four days could pinpoint any specific holes other than “that one they made drivable a couple rounds and almost got several fans killed.” That was No. 11, by the way. I had to look it up myself. — Alex Myers

Montana Pritchard/PGA of America

You golf course snobs are missing the point: Here’s a dirty little secret about major championship golf: the golf course itself is almost irrelevant. Now, to be clear, this is not to say we prefer bad courses over good ones. Given the choice between splattering Cypress Point or some tired dusty muny on our 54-inch flatscreens, we all know what we’re going to choose. What we are saying, however, is that major championships are ultimately defined by the drama they produce, and we’re willing to overlook all kinds of architectural deficiencies provided the storylines that unfold there are sufficiently compelling. Take plain old Bellerive, which by any objective measure was the weakest of the four major championship courses this season, yet by some random confluence of events, still delivered the best major of the season. If you could guarantee a tournament like this one every time, I’d go back there every year if we could. — Sam Weinman

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By Alex Myers
Sergio Garcia was part of the carnage during that infamous final round at the 2004 U.S. Open, shooting a Sunday 80 to fall out of contention. But that did nothing to change his high opinion of Shinnecock Hills.

Garcia is excited to return to one of his favorite courses at this week’s U.S. Open and it’s just about everything else that has changed in the interim. He’s a major champ, he’s a dad, and yes, Shinnecock should play differently this time around.

Related: The top 13 picks to win the 2018 U.S. Open

I caught up with Sergio on Monday at the Adidas flagship store in midtown Manhattan to discuss his U.S. Open chances, that impressive major championship streak, his diaper-changing skills, and life without the green jacket. Plus, Sam Weinman, Ryan Herrington, and Chris Powers joined me at Shinnecock to talk about all the early-week headlines as we head into the second men’s major of the year. Please have a listen:

https://soundcloud.com/user-96678684/sergio-garcia-on-shinnecock-changing-diapers-and-life-without-the-green-jacket

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