Saturday, April 08, 2000Duval lets his game do talking
BY PAUL DAUGHERTY
The Cincinnati EnquirerAUGUSTA, Ga. — If David Duval wins the Masters, they'll give him a beige jacket. Duval has remade his physique, slimming down and buffing up. He has made TV commercials for an investment company. He has made millions of dollars. If only he'd buy a vowel.
“Sorry I don't give a highlight reel (interview) all the time,” Duval said. A highlight reel? We'd settle for coming attractions. “Sorry I disappointed you,” said Duval, who wasn't. “Maybe we'll try again tomorrow.”
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Ah, we can only hope.
The question to Duval was innocent enough: Is meeting the heathen media harder for you than playing?
I mean, it certainly appears to be. Duval seems nice enough, in a detached kind of way. “I always try to be honest,” he said.
Honesty? The man is dry toast. He's no more penetrable than those wraparound sunglasses he wears.
Maybe that has more to do with the times than with Duval. Jocks are so rich now, they don't need the press, or the public, to sustain them. They let their play do their speaking. For anything else, check their website.
Tiger Woods, animated on the course and pleasant off it, is nevertheless similarly unreachable. You don't know Tiger. He won't allow it.
More than golf
It revives a debate almost as old as Palmer, Player and Nicklaus: Do golfers owe us big charisma, or simply great golf?For most of Friday, the players crowding the leaderboard couldn't stir an imagination if they had a cement mixer. For one terrifying moment, Vijay Singh was leading Bernhard Langer by a shot. Loren Roberts was not far behind. These gentlemen are fine players. They couldn't light up a closet if they had a bonfire.
For four decades, the Masters has been dominated by great players with great stories: Palmer, Nicklaus, Tom Watson. Seve Ballesteros who, when asked how he four-putted a green, replied, “I miss, I miss, I miss, I make.”
Even Greg Norman, never a champion, was unfailingly human and compelling. The Masters has benefited enormously from the charisma of its champions and the legend they've helped create.
Nicklaus reigns
On Friday, the biggest roars and thickest galleries were not for Duval, whose 65 was the best round of the day. They belonged to Nicklaus, who shot 70 at age 60, despite a bogey on the last hole.Behind the 15th green, a Pinkerton guard exhausted his supply of pleases trying to keep fans from stretching a gallery rope. Nicklaus was three-under par for the day; at the time, he was just three strokes off the lead. Fans made the rope groan while hoping for a glimpse of Nicklaus putting.
When Nicklaus bogeyed 18 because his 9-iron approach didn't hold the green, he said to his caddie, son Jackie, “Meet me on the range. We're going to go over there and try to get a 9-iron to spin forward.”
“Age doesn't have anything to do with it if you've got your nerve,” Nicklaus decided later. “And your nerves, I suppose.”
Nicklaus conceded he'd lost both until this week. It was an admission Duval would never make.
Nicklaus is swimming uncharted waters, in any sport. Ben Hogan was 56 when he played his last Masters; so was Byron Nelson. When Palmer was 60, he was missing his seventh consecutive cut. Forty years ago, older players had little incentive to stay in shape. So they didn't.
Ponce de Nicklaus is as beloved here as the fauna, a reason being the galleries think they know him. He relates to them on the course; he relates to them off it, through the media, with whom he has always been open and cordial. Palmer was the same. Fans didn't just follow them. They felt they were a vicarious part of their successes.
Nicklaus isn't ready for the lifetime achievement applause. He still plays for the roars.
The question isn't if David Duval will still be playing the Masters at age 60. It's if anyone will notice.
Enquirer columnist Paul Daugherty welcomes your comments at (513) 768-8454.
