Michelle Wie's decision to enter Q-school is a smart move. In fact, it is one of the few intelligent decision she has made since turning pro three years ago. After ignoring coaches and convention, and dismissing any suggestion that her celebrity-driven, me-first approach to golf advancement was not the best way to go, she has finally come down to earth to dabble among mere mortals. At least for the time being. May the gods of Olympus smile upon her.
This week, in Rancho Mirage, Calif. against 164 other hopefuls, she will attempt to relaunch her stalled career by doing what ego and business interests wouldn't let her do — begin small and build experience, confidence and victories before jetting off to win over Augusta. If she finishes among the top 30 and ties at the sectional, she will move on to the final qualifying tournament at Daytona Beach for 90 holes of stress-inducing competition.
Just what was the impetus was to make such a decision after years of ignoring the advice of others more knowledgeable remains mostly unsaid. Her ever-present father spoke about her having no other alternatives and if that is the case, that she is only making this decision because she has run out of options, then it's a rather sad commentary on her approach to the game.
Her coach David Ledbetter and even such impressive ball strikers as Annika Sorenstam, Tiger Woods and Jack Nicklaus agreed to a person that her plan of attack was greatly flawed. But she refused to listen. The feeling was, it seems, that while it may have been necessary for the aforementioned athletes to develop an amateur game and to flit around at minor tournaments before being good enough to take on bigger competition, “Team Wie” was above such meager pursuits. The world was her oyster and everyone would just have to get used to it. Unfortunately for the Standford freshman, the goodwill has vanished and all that remains is the memory of bad behavior and poor performance.
Michelle was, and remains, a great talent and a big star. The fact that she hadn't won a tournament since the age of 13 was of no concern. Represented by Hollywood image makers and directed by headline-chasing parents, she seemed content to cash her multiple endorsement checks while displaying boorish behavior as she mindlessly insulted sponsors, players and tournament hosts as the world waited for her to win, or at least, to compete. Truth be told, the LPGA didn't do her or the tour any favors by altering its eligibility rules to allow her to play in tournaments such as the McDonald's LPGA Championship in 2005. Most interesting is that what once had been the biggest concern over her career, that she was following in the footsteps of another young, attractive and talented athlete who made millions at the same time failing in her primary occupation, now seems like a smart course of action. If she choses to take it.
In the late 1990's Annna Kournikova was the poster child of the spoiled athlete who demanded special treatment regardless of poor performance. It didn't hurt that she could really fill out a tennis outfit. Yeeowww!! Fast forward a decade and the now 27-year-old is still wealthy and famous, but has dumped her high maintenance attitude for one of maturity and community involvement. She is an ambassador and fundraiser for the Boys and Girls Club and helped open the first such center in Tijuana, Mexico.
Michelle still has a ton of talent. We've seen glimpses this year, but without being able to play on a consistent, weekly basis she has not been able to continue the necessary development that will allow her to contend, or to at least make the cut. In seven LPGA tournaments this year — one fewer than the number of exemptions the allowable for a nonmember — Wie has missed three cuts, was famously disqualified for failing to sign her score card at the State Farm Classic and finished no higher than a tie for 12th at the Canadian Women's Open. She did, however, finish sixth in the Ladies German Open against less than stellar competition.
Though she had her difficulties both on and off the course the last two years, it was only as far back as 2005 when she had three top five finishes in the tour's four majors. It's not hard to imagine such success in the future if she takes the time to correctly develop her game.
With her looks, ethnic makeup, distance off the tee and an improved personality, Michelle can still become a standard bearer of her sport and one who can positively affect its global growth. This is the first step. Making it through the grueling test that is Q-school will do much to improve her game and image around the clubhouse. And if she can rediscover the fluid swing that she abandoned in search for more distance, then 2008 could be a very successful year. As it is, it will be a very important one.
Sports fans love to hold onto their heroes even after their effectiveness has become a long-departed memory. After years of living vicariously through their athletic exploits, dealing with retirement talk can be difficult. It’s upsetting enough when the announcement comes after gray hair has replaced that of a darker hue. But when it comes amidst the prime of an athlete’s career, it’s just shocking.
Such is the case with Annika Sorenstam, this generation’s greatest female golfer and arguably the best ever, said that following this season she will give up the sport she’s dominated for more than a decade.
While women’s golf does not have the broad national impact of the NFL or Major League Baseball, Sorenstam’s decision to leave her sport at age 37 has a greater connection to early exits in those sports than to Justine Henin, who just became the first female tennis player to retire while ranked No. 1 in the world. Like Sandy Koufax and Jim Brown, who both aborted their respective careers at the age of 30, Sorenstam defines her sport and is the standard-bearer for all who come after. Just as every left-hander is compared to Koufax and each running back to Brown, any woman with talent and desire who comes along in the foreseeable future will be chasing the ghost of Sorenstam.
And if there is one more recent athlete who can appreciate what the 5-foot-6-inch Swede is giving up, it may be a 5-foot-8-inch former tailback from Wichita. Barry Sanders left the game when the pressure of defeat became a burden so great that it dwarfed any desire to chase immortality.
Minus an injury-filled 2007 in which she recorded only one victory, Sorenstam had no such concerns of mounting loses. But like Sanders, who gave up the game a season removed from claiming the all-time rushing title, Sorenstam has decided to leave within eyesight of topping Kathy Whitworth in wins and Patty Berg in majors.
Sorenstam achieved the rare feat of becoming a one-name celebrity — a surprising accomplishment for the reluctant star who, for most of her career, was uncomfortable in front of the camera, keeping to herself a smart and humorous personality that hid a burning desire to win.
Though she always said the right thing, Annika never took losses lightly. Each one just made her more determined to further distance herself from the competition and if victory meant putting some verbal pressure on an opponent, then so be it. Going into her 2007 playoff against Meaghan Francella, the young 25-year-old golfer asked the seasoned pro what ball she was hitting. Sorenstam’s intimidation-laden reply of “a Titleist 59” was not lost on the younger golfer. One of Annika’s greatest feats was her LPGA record round of 59 she shot in 2001.
Proof that the imposing legacy of the former world’s No. 1 has not waned was clearly evident when Sorenstam found herself in a playoff with Paula Creamer at this year’s Stanford Invitational Pro-Am. Creamer admitted that her hands shaking while putting on the first playoff hole. Sorenstam, unfazed, calmly sank the putt for her 71st LPGA win.
Over her 16-year career, Annika not only dominated her sport, but was perhaps the world’s most recognizable female athlete. She turned pro in 1992 and the next year was named the Ladies European Tour’s Rookie of the Year. A season later, now teeing it up on the LPGA Tour, she did the same. In her second year as a full-time member on the ladies’ toughest tour, Annika scored three wins and 12 top 10 finishes in 19 events while capturing her first Major and becoming the No. 1-ranked female golfer — a title she would claim eight more times in the following 11 years. She was also named LPGA Player of the Year after leading both the LPGA and European Tours’ winnings.
Over the next 13 years, she would win 69 more times on the LPGA Tour and claim nine more Majors. She was 22-11-4 in Solheim Cup matches, landed seven more Player of the Year honors, was the AP Female Athlete of the Year three times, she won an ESPY for the Best Female Golfer five times and, in 2005 and 2006, won two more ESPYs for Best Female Athlete.
Now, healthy, confident and with three wins in her first eight tournaments this year, she’s giving it up to start the family she’s wanted for several years and to watch over her ever-growing business interests, including her ANNIKA Academy, a blossoming golf course design business, stock and real estate investments.
Fellow Hall of Famer Nancy Lopez, who also left the game in her prime to start a family, said the business world is a poor substitute for the pure thrill of athletic competition — especially for someone as competitive as Annika or herself. Lopez eventually returned and no one should be surprised if in a half dozen years Sorenstam returns to reclaim what had been hers for the taking.
There are not many things the LPGA does better than its testosterone-driven counterpart. The men play a better game on better courses, and telecasts are not limited to bleary-eyed time slots traditionally dominated by infomercials for spray-on hair-replacement systems. But there is one lesson the boys could learn from their estrogen-driven counterpart: The need to better support the second line tour stops.
The LPGA requires its members to play in each tournament at least once every four years. By doing this, the Ladies Professional Golf Association helps ensure the financial stability of second-tier events while at the same time ensuring as many fans and tournament hosts and sponsors get exposed to its growing talent base.
Now, before we run off to have LPGA commissioner Carolyn Bivens sanctified for her enlightened approach in reaching out to woe begotten customers, we must acknowledge that the LPGA’s policy is based strictly on business and not for any need to reward those inhabiting the backwaters of golf. Bivens has been just as willing as PGA headman Tim Finchem to dump longtime sponsors in favor of bigger payouts from corporate-sponsored events.
One must acknowledge that the likelihood of the PGA signing up for such an arrangement is as probable as John Daly doing a Slim•Fast commercial. But these are the spaces for pondering the impossible.
The first, and really only, hurdle would be getting the top players — who slavishly or selfishly adhere to self-crafted performance schedules — to agree. Since its inception, professional golf has been a sport contested by — here comes the cliché — independent contractors. Since it’s true that no one is happy unless mama is happy, the PGA is not going to nudge forward any idea that would upset the game’s golden calves. This is the crux of the problem. The tour is so thoroughly dominated by a few top names that any change without their consent is nearly impossible.
The PGA tour is currently divided between the haves and have nots — better known as events with Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson and those without. Tournaments with either or both see packed courses, jammed pro shops and high television ratings. Stops without the only two recognizable names on tour means exactly the opposite and, possibly, even the deathknell for tournaments. For proof real or imagined, one has to look no further than to Jack Vickers, the founder of the International at Castle Pines, who complained that the lack of Tiger’s participation doomed his tournament. Just to add fuel to Vickers’ ire, the International was replaced by Tiger’s tournament, the AT&T National.
These events and the tournaments that bracket the four majors are the lifeblood of the tour, and where pros grinding out a living hope to move up the money list. These are also the tournaments where the future Augusta members paid their dues before the big money became a foregone conclusion.
In 1996, Woods’ rookie year, the soon-to-be-greatest-of-all-time, played in such places as the Greater Milwaukee Open, the Quad City Classic and the LaCantera Texas Open. Sadly, the man who used these stops on his journey to an athletic record $1 billion in career earnings, has not returned to the humble courses of his early career. Mickelson, like his more buffed colleague, took advantage of invites to the Central Western Open and the New England Classic during his rookie campaign and, except for a return to New England the next year (1993), has never looked back.
Tiger and Phil aren’t the only ones guilty of forgetting where they came from, nor it is just confined to the PGA. Annika Sorenstam has been a no-show at the Canadian Open — a tournament she won in 2001 — since bowing out after six holes to sickness two years later. Her back problems last season also meant another miss.
