By Vincent
Musco
Thursday, January 1st, 2004
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2003 has left some of us a little bewildered. And cheated.
For example: is it actually possible that the President will enjoy re-election
one year after Texas two-stepping between three different justifications
for a pre-emptive invasion of Iraq?
And did the Red Sox and Cubs really lose, or was it just some horrible dream?
And speaking of the Cubs, is it just me, or did Sammy Sosa's status as a
"good guy" of baseball actually elevate following his exposure for cheating
at the game he loves?
But there are plausible explanations for the aforementioned phenomenon. But
the Presidents' Cup ending in a tie? Sure, a couple of months have passed
since it happened, but for some of us, this is too much.
In case you forgot, the 2003 President's Cup, a five-day event, came down
to a sudden death playoff between Tiger Woods, representing the American
team, and Ernie Els, the International squad's horse. Of course, there never
would have been a playoff if Davis Love had not choked on the 18th hole during
his match, which would have clinched a victory for the U.S. I digress.
From the start, U.S. captain Jack Nicklaus and International captain Gary
Player were against the idea of the result of an entire team championship
to be decided by two individuals. Too much pressure, they said. But Woods
and Els, flanked by their teammates, battled to a stalemate through three
playoff holes nevertheless.
So, Nicklaus and Player, after some deliberation about the darkness and the
rightful owner (or owners, as it would turn out) of the Cup, decided that
it would be best if shared.
The captains, the players, and sportswriters alike have since cheered the
decision as a landmark moment in sportsmanship, as well as a high point for
the game of golf. Said Ernie Els: "I think in the spirit of The Presidents
Cup, the way we've been playing these matches over the years, I think this
is a fitting finish." Well.
Are we that gullible? The bizarre moments following Els' final hole-halving
putt were not evidence to the romantic notion of the elevation of golf and
the integrity of its players, but rather something much different.
Consider. Immediately after Woods holes one of the most clutch putts in his
career, a 10-foot snake for par on the third playoff hole to force Els to
match to keep the tournament alive, Nicklaus walked over to Woods and stood
behind him with his hands on Woods' arms. It was then Nicklaus told him about
the captains' idea to call it a draw if Els made his putt. Never has Woods
looked more uncomfortable. He was recoiling in his skin, like a 6-year-old
getting his cheeks pinched by an overzealous, elderly relative.
Woods, who did say that his legs were shaking during the playoff, wanted
no part of a tie. He wanted to finish it with Els that night, even if they
had to play in the pitch-dark. Remember, Tiger's the guy who would play in
all weather, even darkness, and have his father scream in his backswing,
trying to disrupt his concentration. Tiger lives for moments like that.
And Els? After making a clutch putt of his own, he said, "Let's play, then"
after being told that a tie would be the result, and America would retain
the Cup.
But the captains (growing soft in their old age, perhaps), wanted no part
of any more golf that day. So they decided to call it a tie. But soon thereafter,
Nicklaus noted that the Cup would stay with the U.S. because of the tie.
The mood darkened faster than the night sky.
Player insisted that the Cup should either be shared, or all of the players
come back the next day and play. A la sixth grade, the captains and their
teams huddled together to discuss the options.
The U.S. huddle was appalling. As Nicklaus posed the possibility of the players
coming back the next day to all play singles matches again to decide the
winner of the Cup, some players looked at their shoes or off in the distance.
It soon became clear that the Americans wanted out of South Africa, even
if it were without the Cup.
Maybe they had flights on their chartered planes that night. Maybe Phil
Mickelson, who went 0-5 on the week, and Davis Love, who blew the tournament
with a chilly-dipped chip, had no desire to embarrass themselves further.
Or maybe they really were just in the giving spirit.
In any event, Nicklaus offered the tie and share of the Cup, and Player accepted.
And so we lost out on seeing who would blink first, Tiger or Ernie. How would
each have reacted to winning it all? Imagine that fist-pump. Or losing it
all? We had a chance to witness the greatest two golfers in the game on a
course that humbled the players all week with its ferocity, and a stage that
induced wet noodle-legs in one of sports' steeliest competitors.
Instead, we saw two old-timers change the rules of the event itself (don't
golfers pride themselves on following the rules?), and an American team who
had somewhere more important to be.
Bewildered. Cheated. Disappointed. Let's hope 2004 offers closure.
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