Somehow, They Carry On

Sure, it’s a noble profession, but first you have to overlook the bad parts, such as having to wipe mud off a bunch of stuff, letting abuse roll off your back, getting blamed for all things great and small and lugging the equivalent of a steamer trunk on your back as you trudge up and down hills for about five hours every day.

It’s hard to shake the romantic notion about the profession of caddie, partly because of the equally romantic notion that golf is a metaphor for life. This idea is, of course, flawed, because everybody knows it’s more of an action verb.

You are familiar with the romanticized details of golf’s actual association with life and vice versa. It’s the one made popular by Hollywood in one of its whimsical moments.

The caddie stands on the fairway as the fog melts away and reveals, in the distance, a flagstick on an emerald green that begins to shimmer in sunlight that suddenly appears, gently hinting through its brightness of all that is possible on what could be this most perfect of days.

Cut.

Let’s retake that scene.

Substitute caddie Myles Byrne sticking too many clubs in Ian Woosnam’s bag, prompting a penalty that scuttles Woosnam’s chances to win the British Open at Royal Lytham.

Cue up the scene on Sunday at the Masters where Tiger Woods is still lurking, but hits the wrong club, a driver instead of the two-iron he wants, double-bogeys the third hole, then dusts caddie Steve Williams for talking him out of the club selection.

Show Christophe Angiolini being portrayed as a dunce for not stopping Jean van de Velde from hitting a driver on the 72nd hole of the British Open at Carnoustie with a three-shot lead that disappeared into a triple bogey and a defeat.

Train the camera and follow the bouncing ball on who’s working for Robert Allenby as he fires Colin Burwood, uses Tim Carnival (his former accountant and husband of LPGA player Janice Moodie), then hires Glenn Parry (Craig Parry’s brother), thus leaving only Craig Parry’s brother’s former accountant out of the line.

Actually, caddies accept the job insecurity as part of the deal because they are accustomed to having employment slip through their fingers like a fistful of bunker sand.

For example, any caddie who works for Colin Montgomerie does so with completely open eyes, aware that Monty changes caddies almost as often as he does equipment.

It is part of caddie lore that there are three basic rules for caddies to follow in order to be successful, a list that is generally attributed to Jack Nicklaus long ago.

Wake up.

Show up.

Shut up.

It’s totally wrong to suggest that’s a complete agenda, but what it does indicate is that there is at least a small undercurrent of feeling that caddies aren’t that highly regarded. The foolish player would dismiss caddies in three short sentences. The smart players know their value. Good caddies help players win tournaments and they always have.

That explains why Joe LaCava has been at Freddie Couples’ side for a long time, since before titanium was discovered.

Jim McKay is one of the most skilled tradesmen in the caddie ranks and Phil Mickelson thanks his lucky stars every tournament he plays that he has McKay on his bag.

When he won the $6-million American Express Championship the week before last, Woods celebrated with Williams, who enjoyed his 100th victory as a caddie. And Woods probably thinks his caddie is good for another 100.

Then there are caddies such as Bruce Edwards, who is happy just to be on the golf course. Edwards, who has worked regularly for Tom Watson for 30 years, has the fight of his life on his hands, trying to stay active while his body breaks down under the effects of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or Lou Gehrig’s disease.

Next week at Sonoma Golf Club, Edwards will work as Watson’s caddie for the last time in an official tour event. It will be slightly more than nine months since Edwards, 48, was diagnosed with ALS, a progressive illness that attacks nerve cells in the brain and the spinal cord, leading to loss of speech, loss of mobility and eventually paralysis, although the mind is usually unaffected. There is no cure.

Watson has helped raise more than $750,000 for the Driving 4 Life foundation to help pay for research by the ALS Therapy Development Foundation in Boston. He’s doing it to help not only his caddie, but all those are affected by ALS.

Watson says raising money for ALS research is the focus of his golf, which proves this, among other things: He knows the value of a good caddie.