How important are all these people to a player’s performance? Some of those “team duties” range from redundant to irrelevant to odd, and the bigger the team, the more likely there are hangers-on who are trying to get a taste of tour life. At a recent dinner, I ranked the individuals in a player’s circle from least important to most important. As you will see, “important” has different connotations. —With Joel Beall

Statisticians

As caddies, the more information we have, the better informed our advice will be, but golf numbers don’t reveal the same hard truths as they do in other sports. Our playing fields are drastically different week to week, with the conditions changing daily or hourly. One good or bad round can alter a stat for months. Some information on overall strategy is useful, like how a field or player is attacking a certain hole, but that data is readily available and doesn’t need to be contextualized by a stats guru. There are broad takeaways from a year’s worth of output, but it is a waste of resources for guys to devote time and money outside of a yearly check-in.

Equipment reps

This isn’t a criticism of what this group does. It’s just that, for tour pros, it’s often hard to notice whether an equipment change or an adjustment is helping or hurting.

Caddies

This one stings. There’s no doubt we can help players in preparation and putting them in the right mind-set. But when I see players bring a friend, girlfriend or wife on the bag and do just as well, I wonder, Hmm, maybe we aren’t that valuable. We don’t do much damage, but sometimes I wonder if we truly raise a player’s ceiling. Let’s move on before I get depressed.

Spouses

I’ve caddied for roughly 15 seasons and been blessed to work with players who I’ve become close with. There are two opposite examples where a wife had a direct impact on what happened inside the ropes. In the first instance, my guy was in a major slump. Forget losing his tour card, he wanted to give up the game. His wife was such a force of positive affirmation that her belief in him helped him get through, and the guy went on to win many more times on tour. Conversely, another player was going through a bitter divorce, and when he was struggling, he pointed out that the drop in earnings meant she wouldn’t get as much when they split. There’s no way that situation would not affect your play.

Swing coaches

You know who swing coaches are perfect for? You, the amateur, not PGA Tour players. Swing coaches are mechanics: If you need to get your oil changed or tires rotated, you’re fine. If you start talking about fixing the engine, we ain’t coming out of the garage for a while. I’ve seen more players hurt by swing coaches than those who have been helped, and that includes a multi-major winner who fell apart after trying to add distance. The recurring issue is attempting a systematic overhaul to the very thing that got you this far. If it goes wrong, swing coaches can tank everything.

Agents

If you poll my fellow caddies, they would likely say agents and managers aren’t important because a lot of us view many of them like bar bouncers, wielding more power than they really have. But a good agent helps declutter a player’s life to let him focus on what’s important. A bad one focuses on the money without realizing that could come at the expense of what’s getting the player that money. An agent matters.

Trainers

Don’t think of trainers as the meatheads in tight shirts yelling at you in the gym. Out on tour, trainers are optimizing the golfer’s body for his specific needs. Yes, some of that includes weightlifting, but it’s more about flexibility, durability, injury prevention or alleviating pain. It’s about still feeling fresh when you’re playing with the lead on Saturday afternoon in the heat or playing for the fifth time in six weeks. If a player doesn’t have a trainer, I know he’s not getting all he can out of his game.

Sports psychologists

I go back and forth on how important mental coaches are. I’ve seen really good players turn into killers after working on their mental games. I’ve also seen killers turn into average players after working on their mental games. This is not a knock on psychologists; it’s just that the spectrum of results is the widest of any group on the list. In fact, there’s one name in the golf world struggling right now, and his caddie told me a lot of the issues began when he started going to therapy. Go figure.

Short-game coaches

Some of the short-term dividends could be rough, especially when going through a grip or philosophy change. But, man, short-game coaches always deliver, and rarely do they backfire. The best way to get better is to work with a short-game coach.

Friends

I can’t tell you how many careers went sideways, were delayed or didn’t go where they should have because of a player’s non-golfer friends. In other sports, athletes have their teammates, coaches and front offices that hold them accountable, so bad influence can usually be checked. But if a golfer is hanging out with the wrong crowd, there’s no onus for anyone to speak up, and that can be corrosive. So much has to go right outside the ropes for a player to have success inside them, and the wrong type of friends will lead to poor play.

Main image: Illustration by R. Kikuo Johnson

The post Undercover Caddie: Ranking members of a player’s entourage by importance appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

You might recall that caddies had to sue the PGA Tour a few years back. Officially, it was about not being compensated for serving as walking billboards for tournament sponsors, but really it was about being treated with respect. That lawsuit, which we lost, did lead to a few improvements, including health care. But tour officials still looked at us as disposable, that we should be lucky a player has taken us along for the ride. LIV Golf clearly understands that plight and history because everyone I’ve met since we’ve joined has gone out of the way to do the opposite.

LIV Golf arranges and pays for our flights. People are waiting for us at the airport. If we have a non-LIV event after our LIV commitment, they arrange for our transportation there, too. Hotels are paid for. The dining area and caddie locker rooms are better than what is made available to players at some PGA Tour events. Everywhere I go someone is asking, “How can we help you?” or “What can we do better?”

At Trump Bedminster I had three top LIV officials stop by on Wednesday at the range, asking personal questions about me and getting to know me better. One clearly did some research and was asking about my hometown and where to go to eat on a visit. CEO Greg Norman has something personal to say to everyone, not just “Hey there,” or “Have a good day, boys.” To be seen means a hell of a lot. You know how many times a PGA Tour executive did that in all my years on tour? Twice, and both times it was because someone needed a hook-up for football tickets.

MORE: Grab your LIV Golf Jeddah discounted tickets here

Is part of this treatment because LIV has pockets that have no bottom? Of course. How LIV treats players goes a long way toward recruiting more guys, but they don’t need to pamper us. No player is coming to LIV because of what he has heard about caddie treatment, and given the payouts involved, any open bag would have dozens of candidates trying to pick it up. By the way, speaking of business, the PGA Tour somehow found more than $100 million for its Player Impact Programme, bonuses and bigger purses, yet they can’t find $1 million or so in travel per diems to be spread out among caddies? Spare me your “it’s not economical from a business standpoint” cries.

The other questions I get are about the financials and competition. My player and I have an agreement, and it’s not the standard 8 to 10 per cent of winnings in professional golf. I got nothing of his signing bonus to join LIV, either, but I’m still taking home life-changing money and will get a cut of all the team and season-ending bonuses. If things continue to go the way they’ve been going, I’m going to make more in this shortened LIV season than I have in the past three years combined on the PGA Tour.

During final rounds there are crowds, but they don’t know what they’re watching yet. I’m not trying to justify it, but I will say two things: One, this year is a trial year. I think it will improve in 2023. Better players will be here, and they will have a better understanding of how the team aspect works. Two, unless you’re a top-20 player or a fan favourite, most PGA Tour events aren’t that rowdy, either, at least on Thursday and Fridays. Let’s not act like it’s that much different from what we’ve seen on tour. However, as much as we’ve enjoyed it, even my player admitted to me during one event, “This is strange, isn’t it?” He’s a guy who doesn’t need an atmosphere to play well (and some guys need an atmosphere to play well, and I think you know who they are), but he does enjoy it. For his sake, I hope that atmosphere comes.

I’m aware of the media storm around the arrival of LIV Golf. The media asks more questions about that than about the golf. I asked myself the same questions when my player signed up and asked me to join, and I came to this conclusion: I’m a globetrotter, and I’ve seen the best and the worst of people across the world. If I didn’t work an event because of what country it was in or what club it was played at or who was sponsoring it, well, I wouldn’t have a schedule.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t felt a backlash — just not how I expected. My sister let me know she’s disappointed in me for joining LIV. Back home I belong to men’s clubs at two courses, one public and one private. I thought the public guys would be more understanding. Turns out the private guys get it: All money is dirty, and you do what you can to get it. The more this battle has dragged on, though, the more the public-course guys see me as a sell-out. I’ve been taken off a text thread with some of the fellas, and at a cookout two weeks back I felt like I was frozen out of some conversations. My player said there would be sacrifices.

I respect the opinions of those who want to stay away from LIV. That said, out of my dozen or so closest caddie friends on tour, half of them are doing everything they can to find a way to LIV. To a lot of us, it’s an opportunity we can’t afford to pass up.

— With Joel Beall

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The post ‘Being a caddie on LIV Golf has been the best experience of my career’ appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

Will we get vaccinated? Usually, I feel good about speaking for caddies as a whole. But this isn’t about golf. A lot of us have the same feelings and opinions about the game and our profession, but there are some gravelled roads once you get off that path.

Commissioner Jay Monahan stated as recently as March that getting vaccinated is encouraged but not mandatory—it’s a personal choice. A friend of mine who isn’t in the sport asked if that really was the case. Wouldn’t we all be lining up when the chance came? Absolutely not, I said.

People might be surprised to hear that. But on the whole—please underline “on the whole”—guys on tour aren’t spooked by the coronavirus. It’s not that they think it’s made up. A lot of them just think of it like the flu despite scientific evidence to the contrary. Before you judge, let me try to explain.

Caddie Confidential: Helen Storey takes us inside the ropes with Lee Westwood

First, we don’t have a “bubble,” at least not like what the NBA or NHL had during the playoffs last year. Players and caddies have travelled across the country for 10 months since this madness started, and we have all taken the tour’s safety protocols seriously, especially after the 2020 Travelers Championship, where several withdrawals over COVID fears almost derailed the PGA Tour’s season. Everyone’s social lives were curtailed, but we were still in public airports and hotels. The fact that only a dozen or so players have tested positive has relieved that fear for some. A few of the guys who did test positive got really sick, more than fans have been led to believe, and that certainly got our attention. But there’s also a difference between knowing about it and being sick yourself.

Second, a lot of these guys, players and caddies, are 30 or younger. Regardless of what your profession is, at that age a lot of us have a tendency to think we’re invincible. Combine that with the hubris professional athletes have, and there’s a belief that it won’t happen to us. I’m not making excuses. It’s just how it is. I know I’ve been guilty of thinking, If I haven’t gotten sick by now, I must be good.

A number of players and caddies will pass on getting vaccinated—anywhere from a fourth to a third would be my estimate. However, the consequences of not getting vaccinated are much different for caddies than for players, and it has nothing to do with health.

If a player tests positive, he misses a tournament, two at max, and the tour will give him $75,000 for his trouble. Once the player tests negative or shows he is asymptomatic, he can resume play. To the tour’s credit, if a caddie tests positive, he gets $5,000. But there’s no guarantee that caddie will be back. As we’ve mentioned in this space before, caddies are always one bad tournament, round, shot or decision away from being replaced.

Undercover Caddie: Your player just won a major? Let the good times roll

Let’s say I’m out for two weeks, and my player gets hot. Or maybe he’s been slumping and sees my positive test as a chance to make a clean break. Maybe he likes the temporary loop more than he likes me. Dumping a guy for getting the virus might sound cold-blooded, but it’s business. (Heck, sometimes we deserve it: In one case, a player almost fired a caddie after the player caught him breaking protocols.) Admittedly, I have some reservations about getting vaccinated, but given that my livelihood is on the line, I’m definitely getting the shot when my number is called.

If caddies want to keep their gig, they might not have a choice. A number of players have politely, but unequivocally, told their caddies they need to get vaccinated if they want to stay on the bag. Don’t think they’re trying to tread on anyone’s personal rights or beliefs; they’re protecting their wives and families more than themselves. My guy, whom I view as a brother, told me I should get it. I was surprised because we really hadn’t discussed it until a week ago. But I know he said that because he just wants what’s best for me.

Other players are not so altruistic. One caddie, at the urging of his man, already got the first shot. After he received it, he told his player thanks. The response? “You’re welcome, but I’m not looking out for you,” the player said. “I need you healthy for me.” —WITH JOEL BEALL

The post Undercover Caddie: Why getting vaccinated is a complicated issue for us appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

A lot of caddies grew up as players. If you’ve held a club in your hand, at some point you’ve dreamed of putting on the green jacket or raising the claret jug. Though we’re no longer the ones hitting the shots, those dreams remain. So when it comes to fruition, forget the money or the competition high; success is a validation of everything we’ve done to get to this moment. That is an experience you cannot buy.

OK, we don’t forget about the money. That’s a pretty damn big part of this. The cut from the winner’s purse is a nice six-figure payday that takes care of the mortgage for the foreseeable future. It also gets you 100 World Golf Ranking points, which should get you into the World Golf Championship events for two years. That’s guaranteed good money. Last place at the WGC-Match Play, for instance, is $50,000 to the player. If your guy plays in three of the WGC events and doesn’t mail it in, that’s another $40,000 you can bank on. Provided the major wasn’t a one-off—as in you have a few top 10s to go with that trophy—you’re playing in the Tour Championship at East Lake, and as long as your player isn’t a jackass, you’re getting a piece of the FedEx Cup bonus pie.

‘We still know where we are on the pecking order.’

Undercover Caddie: Players aren’t the only ones who choke

The off-the-course dough is nice, too. Some of the engagements that come my way from connections I make at the pro-ams are amazing. Most are country-club outings or high school stags, which is an easy grand and a hell of a time. I’ve been asked to talk for universities, businesses and teams, with a number of sport psychologists reaching out to glean what they can about player-caddie synergy. Small confession: I once had a chat with a Canadian professor who wanted to know about the “mind-set of a champion.” Halfway through I realized he thought I was a player. I should have told him, but I once got food poisoning at the Canadian Open, so I considered it retribution. These gigs might not seem glamorous, but they pay well, and the pay adds up.

After winning a major, the player and caddie have a new schedule that brings perks in two ways. You’re in every major, the Tournament of Champions, the aforementioned WGCs. If it matters, you’re there. Better yet, now that your player is enshrined in that major glory, he’s likely to take more time off than in years past—maybe three or four events off his calendar. That means more vacation for me.

A major win also brings a newfound respect from fellow caddies. They know you’ve been a part of something incredible, something they want to be a part of. How much respect you get depends on the relationship with your player. If a caddie takes over for a player who was already good, you give him a nod and a pat on the back. If a caddie takes a younger player or someone lost in the desert to the promised land, you kneel at that man’s feet. One of our own who saw a big jump in esteem was Brennan Little, who won the Masters with Mike Weir and the U.S. Open with Gary Woodland, two different events with two vastly different players.

Caddie Confidential: Helen Storey takes us inside the ropes with Lee Westwood

A final bonus is job security. Clearly things are humming with you and your guy, and the major likely brings another two years of goodwill. Should things go bad, well, that’s OK, too, because you don’t see many caddies with a major on their résumé looking for work for long.

It’s not all strawberries and wine. When your player wins a major, that means more attention, more leeches trying to get in on the action. That can muddle your relationship with your player. There’s also pressure to replicate that success. Personally, I love that feeling; I’m a competitive guy. But I’ve seen it break other caddies who let their guard down, thinking they had it made only to realize they were just getting started.

We still know where we are on the pecking order. I found that out over dinner with my guy and his apparel sponsor. We had been seated for 30 minutes, but it was a big group. I went to the bathroom. When I came back, I had to wait for another table to move a seat in. As I stood, an apparel exec gave me his drink order. Now anytime my player hits a bad shot, he’ll mumble in my direction, “Hey, I could use a whiskey sour. Thanks.” —WITH JOEL BEALL

The post Undercover Caddie: Your player just won a major? Let the good times roll appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

With Joel Beall
Funny how words evolve over a lifetime. In college a “land mine” was a class that was going to detonate your GPA. When I first started caddieing, that label was reserved for players whose rounds would explode over the smallest mistake. Now, after years in this business, “land mine” means something else: anyone who could potentially blow up my career. 

Listen, we get fired. That’s a part of the job. Usually it’s the player’s call. However, as the inner circles of players continue to grow and evolve, there are more voices in all decisions, including who will be on the bag. So who do we have to worry about? Not to sound paranoid but darn near everybody. 

 Let’s start with the agent because he’s the most misunderstood of the bunch. Sure, he can be our executioner, and when it happens, it’s usually because of performance, or he doesn’t think we’re the right personality fit. Sometimes it can be self-preservation (a player is restless and is looking to clean house) or even retaliatory (a friend swears an agent tried to have him fired after this friend made fun of his pants at a U.S. Open). But I’ve found agents, more often than not, to be caddie advocates. They don’t get enough credit for facilitating a fair share of player-caddie relationships. Many in this game minimize our roles, but agents view us as assets. It’s crucial to keep them as allies.  

Undercover Caddie: Players aren’t the only ones who choke

Parents are a booby trap, no doubt. There’s a stigma that this is more ingrained on the LPGA Tour, and historically, that’s true. A bit of it is cultural, no denying that. But it’s more age-related than societal. A not insignificant chunk of LPGA Tour players are under 25, some under 21. Don’t care what your profession is, you’re going to lean hard on your parents at that age. (We’re seeing it more and more on the PGA Tour as the players get younger.) When things aren’t going great, the parents are far more likely to view us as a problem. 

A growing segment of land mines are players’ friends or former college teammates. Players hire them as caddies because they want that sense of comfort that is built in. But it’s maddening; these friends/teammates, even those with golf backgrounds, are totally lost. They don’t know how to rake, don’t know how to keep up—a lot of them don’t do their homework. Then you’ll hear complaints that the standards of caddies are dropping (including from the tour, giving us memos about bunker condition, etc.), and it’s like, Yeah, no kidding.

Undercover Caddie: Do tour pros cheat? Here’s your answer

Coaches? Depends. If an instructor has a group of players, I don’t give him a second thought. But if he teaches only my guy, then I need to watch out. This type of coach tends to be controlling, and if my player hits a rough patch, the coach is going to look for a scapegoat. As in, Hey, I got you here. Clearly, I’m not the problem. There can be friction, but you can’t make it personal. You have to understand that his player—rightfully or wrongly—is his career, and he’ll do anything to keep it. 

Here’s one you probably weren’t expecting: The media. If media members (and as an extension, fans) know who we are, that means we’re saddled to a pretty strong horse. But along with that spotlight comes extra scrutiny. It can be warranted, although there are a lot of hacks who don’t know what they’re writing about. Remember when some were saying Austin Johnson was holding Dustin back? A.J. will be the first to tell you he experienced growing pains, and believe me, he was raw those first years inside the ropes. But this is a job, and in any job, you have to give people time to grow into it. Austin’s been instrumental in getting Dustin to the top of the world by keeping him loose and does a lot of the hard work of reading the greens. Haven’t seen many columnists apologizing to Austin, though. 

Other caddies? Yes. When you’re new on tour, a handful of sharks will circle. Not much nuance to it, either. You’ll miss a few cuts, and a veteran will get in touch with a player’s team, Just letting you know I’m available in case you need somebody. There aren’t many caddies like this, but they exist. 

As for significant others, it’s RARE, all capital letters, that a wife’s disapproval leads to an exit. Come to think about it, I can only think of one instance, years ago. This caddie wasn’t a troublemaker, but he liked to have a good time. Unfortunately for him, his player just got married and, well, let’s just say married life was an adjustment. The player and caddie didn’t hang out much off the course, yet the caddie’s reputation preceded him, and the wife deemed him a bad influence. They had just had a good year, too. But that’s the thing about land mines: You don’t see them coming.

Caddie Confidential: Helen Storey takes us inside the ropes with Lee Westwood

The post Undercover Caddie: Keeping your job means keeping a lot of different people happy appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

With Joel Beall
I have nightmares about it. The scenarios change—start of the tournament, an early Saturday tee time, as we’re walking down the 18th fairway with a five-shot lead—but the story doesn’t: I find a 15th club in the bag. I consider myself a stand-up guy, but I never do the right thing in the dream. I keep the discovery to myself, tomahawk the club into the woods, once even snapped it in two and tried to flush it down a Porta-John. I wake up petrified and disappointed in myself, and the dream keeps happening. 

For the record, my guy has never had 15 clubs in his bag. So yeah, you better believe we’re terrified of making mistakes.

They happen. Don’t care if you’ve been out here for two months or 20 years, everyone has a story of slipping up, and—as my night terrors prove—we all live in fear of the next miscue. 

The blunders are not as public as caddie Myles Byrne discovering 15 clubs in the bag for Ian Woosnam at the 2001 Open or Bandon Dunes looper Brant Brewer touching the sand on the 18th hole to lose the hole, and match, for Oliva Pinto at this summer’s U.S. Amateur. Sometimes they’re the simplest of things, like oversleeping a tee time or leaving the raingear out of the bag, only for the heavens to open up. That doesn’t make them easier swallows.

Giving yardages sounds simple. Is simple. But when you’re giving them out 18-plus times a day, four times a week, 30 weeks of the year, you’re going to give a wrong number. Maybe you walked three yards off but added three, or read the distance to the middle instead of a back-tucked pin. For these guys, a wrong number by three yards makes all the difference. Done it three times in the past 15 or so years. First time, my player came up 10 yards short of the green. I realised what happened and told him. Had to. To his credit, he took it in stride. Maybe too in stride, as he joked to his playing partner about his “mystery” number. “Oh, yeah?” said his opponent, a Hall of Famer. “Any more ‘mysteries,’ and it won’t be a mystery why he’s out of a job.” Oof. 

The second time was a practice round about five years later, same guy. Should have been 180 yards; told him 188. If I would have looked up from my book, it was clearly 180, and he knew it. But he said nothing and hit his ball well over. As soon as the ball’s in the air, he turns to me and yells, “Start doing your job!” Man, did that sting. But you have to own it. It’s your fault. 

Undercover Caddie: Do tour pros cheat? Here’s your answer

Then there are the complex mistakes, and the majority of the time they happen when you’re in a pressure situation. What can I say? Just like players, we sometimes stumble in the clutch. 

The first is giving the wrong club. First round, you usually let your guy feel his way out, talking him out or into a different stick only if it’s egregious. When you’re on the cut line or in contention, you tend to assert yourself more on those in-betweeners. By the way, this is not a wrong-yardage thing. It’s part strategy, part knowing the effect adrenaline and pressure and stress are going to have on your guy. Two examples: Last year I got my guy into a club lower at TPC Sawgrass’ island-green 17th because I knew with the blood flowing he was going to hit anything a few yards farther. That time it worked—he hit it to 10 feet and made his bird. But this season on a drivable par 4, I got him into a 3-wood because I thought the driver brought too much trouble into play. I didn’t read the situation right, because that affected his confidence. He still found the trouble. 

Most of the time we’re right when suggesting another club. When we’re wrong, it can be bad. And there’s a chance your guy goes sideways the next hole because he’s thinking how you just screwed him. 

Caddie Confidential: Helen Storey takes us inside the ropes with Lee Westwood

Another way caddies mess up with the tournament on the line is being timid. You want to stay out of your player’s way and let him focus on the course, but if you’re not talking as much or acting differently—trust me, they notice—they take it as doubt or fear. But the biggest way we fail when it matters most is . . . positivity. 

It’s human nature: You want to keep your guy in an upbeat, bullish mood. Everyone wants to deliver the pump-up speech, but if your guy is good, he’s going to be in contention a number of times. Do the rah-rah thing in each of those instances, it loses its effect when you really need it. And golf isn’t football or basketball, where we need to get amped up. We’re (mostly) trying to keep calm. Besides—and a former player told me this, which I pass on to all new caddies—it’s OK to let a player be mad. You tell him it’s fine after he makes bogey, and it might just piss him off more. Nothing wrong with letting him stew; he’s about to get an extra 10 yards off that next drive because of it.

Just make sure on the first tee it’s the only driver in his bag. Sorry, that was the nightmare talking.

The post Undercover Caddie: Players aren’t the only ones who choke appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.

In a new pair of Farmers Insurance ads that time nicely with next week’s Farmers Insurance Open, the PGA Tour star dons a Zach Galifianaki-esque beard and takes on the identity of “Richard Flower,” a chatty caddie. And this affable alter ego is eager to help golfers with everything from reading greens to swing advice to a chipping lesson that involves players hiking up their pants. Check them out:

Our favorite exchange has to be when one unsuspecting golfer asks, “How long have you been a caddie?” Fowler quickly shoots back, “Longer than you’ve been alive.”

Anyway, good stuff, Rickie. Farmers clearly hasn’t been giving you enough speaking lines through the years.

The post Rickie Fowler goes undercover as a caddie, fools everyone with Zach Galifianakis-esque beard appeared first on Golf Digest Middle East.