This Pro Enjoys Amateur Hour

He looks like everybody’s favorite uncle. It’s a face you could trust, ask to watch the baby while you went in the store for a few minutes.

It’s as round as a full moon and it kind of beams. An Irish streetcar conductor. A guy who has just had the best steak he’s ever eaten.

But, it’s the face of a guy who’s certifiably one of the five or six best players playing the game of golf today.

It’s not the shots that make Mark O’Meara the player he is, it’s the attitude. He’s never met a golf course he didn’t like. No one has ever seen him scowl, frown, throw a club, kick a ball-washer, cuss a caddy or blame a greenskeeper. The face never gets out of round.

There are as many ways to play golf as there are players who play it. You can play it with a drive, an eight-iron and a scowl. You can play it in a constant cold rage like a Tommy Bolt. You can play it whistling and humming like a Fuzzy Zoeller. Or you can play it like a kid who just got a new pony for Christmas--like Mark O’Meara.

O’Meara sees the trees, smells the flowers. He’s the nearest thing to Walter Hagen on the tour today. Hogan stalked a course. Palmer went after its throat. Nicklaus took it prisoner. But Hagen romanced it, whispered sweet nothings in its ear, brought it flowers, so to speak. It was Hagen who said, “Don’t worry, don’t hurry--and be sure to smell the flowers along the way.”

Mark O’Meara probably never met Walter Hagen. But he plays golf with the same sunny exterior. He seems to be smelling the flowers along the way.

A four-day pro-am such as the Bob Hope Chrysler Classic, which is being contested down here this week, is not your average grumpy pro’s idea of a way to make a living. It’s a format that has raised mega-millions for charity, notably the Eisenhower Hospital, which has saved hundreds of otherwise doomed lives. In many ways, it’s golf’s finest hour.

But, a pro’s idea of playing for a million dollars is not teeing it up with a bunch of strange guys and spending your days listening to “Anybody see where that went?” or “You better hit another” or “It’s right there by your left shoe” or “That’s out” or even “Why don’t you just pick that up, sport? You’re lying nine to here.”

This gets to some pros. It’s like having to take your brother-in-law to the office.

But it wouldn’t have bothered Walter Hagen. And it doesn’t bother Mark O’Meara.

Four of the seven tournaments Mark O’Meara has won have been in pro-am formats. He may make that five.

O’Meara does what every great player tries to do--turn a negative into a positive. His amateur partners are not nuisances, they’re allies.

“Some guys think ‘Oh, dear! Another pro-am!’ ” says O’Meara. “And they make a face. I use my amateurs as an outlet. My personality is outgoing, and I find watching their games a release from tension for me. Keeps me relaxed. I don’t think it’s an accident I’ve won so much in pro-ams.

“We have to realize these are the guys who keep our game going. These are the corporate sponsors, without which golf is nothing. And I really enjoy playing with them. I try not to make it just a ‘Hello’ and ‘Goodby’ round for them.

“It requires an extra element of patience--but golf itself requires an extra element of patience. It’s the name of this game.

“Amateurs come in all sizes and swings. I have played with some guys who beat me on my own ball. And I have played with some guys who finish only two or three holes a round. If you let it affect you, you deserve what happens.”

O’Meara treats it as just another hazard. Water to be hit over, sand to be gotten out of. An amateur partner is just another dogleg.

“I’ve been hit a couple of times by one of my own amateurs. The ball would come flying out of the trees, and you’d think it was from the other fairway. I had a nervous partner in Milwaukee one year who hit the ball off the heel of his club and it went straight behind him. He lost yardage on his drive. Then he goes and gets another club!”

O’Meara laughs. “Kinda makes you wonder why we get so mad sometimes when we make only par.”

O’Meara feels his philosophy translates into positives, not only on but off the golf course. “Endorsements come about because of consistency, hopefully, and because of personality, hopefully.”

If you can’t shoot 65s all the time, you can at least smile all the time.

Walter Hagen would have been proud of him this week. Mark O’Meara smiled his way all the way to the top of the leader board in the Hope by Saturday night. His 21-under-par led all golfers into the final round.

He struck a blow for cheerfulness. He may restore the grin to the golf bag. A golfer doesn’t have to go around looking as if he just heard a noise in the attic or found a rattlesnake in his pocket. Or as if his feet were killing him.

It’s OK to look happy. If you can shoot 66-69-65-67 without once wrinkling your forehead or biting your lip or looking as if you were on your way to the electric chair, maybe it’ll be okay to look as if you’re even having a good time.

Walter Hagen always acted as if he were at a dance. Mark O’Meara just acts as if it beats spending the day in a dark room. Or at a lathe. Which it sure does. Even with amateur partners.