The funniest and most popular sportswriter in America abandons his desk at SPORTS ILLUSTRATED to caddy for some of the world's most famous golfers, and some celebrity duffers, recounting it all in this hilarious and revealing look at the world of golf.
Who knows a golfer best? Who's with them every minute of every round, hears their muttering, knows whether they cheat? Their caddies, of course. So sportswriter Rick Reilly figured that he could learn a lot about the players and their games by caddying, even though he had absolutely no idea how to do it. Amazingly, some of the best golfers in the world—including Jack Nicklaus, David Duval, Tom Lehman, John Daly, Casey Martin, and Jill McGill—agreed to let Reilly carry their bags at actual PGA and LPGA Tour events. To round out his portrait of the golfing life, Reilly also caddied at the Masters, persuaded Deepak Chopra and Donald Trump to use him as a caddy, accompanied high-rolling golf hustlers in Las Vegas around the course, and carried the bag for a blind golfer.
IN WHO'S YOUR CADDY?, Reilly chronicles his experiences in the same inimitable style that makes his back-page column for SPORTS ILLUSTRATED a must-read for more than twenty million people every week. From his laugh-out-loud portrait of Deepak Chopra decomposing on the green, to his portraits of good ol' boys who bet $100,000 a round, to his hilarious descriptions of his own ineptitude as a caddy, to his insights into whatmakes the greats of golf so great, Reilly combines a wicked wit with an expert's eye in a most original and entertaining look at golf.
IN WHO'S YOUR CADDY? is the next best thing to a great round of golf. It is sure to delight low-handicappers, high-handicappers, and everyone in between.
Having never caddied in my life, I needed a smallish place to start out, away from the spotlight, a podunk kind of tournament.
Naturally, I chose The Masters.
In front of thousands of people, in the greatest tournament in golf, I made my professional caddying debut, looping for 64-year-old Tommy Aaron, the 1973 champion. I think he'd tell you it went quite well, unless you count tiny, little nitpickings, such as my dropping the towel eleven times, the headcover four, the puttercover six, standing in the wrong place at the wrong time, standing in the right place at the wrong time, forgetting to give him his putter, his ball, his driver, being too close to him, being too far from him, letting the clubs clink too much as I walked, letting myself clink too much as I walked, the infamous "mouth" incident, and the awful, shameful thing that happened on No. 5 that none involved shall ever forget.
This was Friday. We were paired with "Sponge," who caddies for New Zealander Michael Campbell, and "Fanny" Sunneson, who won six majors with Nick Faldo and now is the bagwoman for Notah Begay, who hates me very much, despite the fact that I've never caddied for him.
Sponge and Fanny. Sounds like a British sex club.
I say, Nigel, didn't I see you last night at The Sponge and Fanny?
What happened was, Aaron hit a 3-iron at No. 5 into the left greenside bunker, then splashed out. I handed him his putter and then nervously set about my raking duties. The crowd was huge around that green, as they are around most Augusta greens, and nobody was ready to putt yet, so I could feel all the eyes on me. I had dropped my towel once already that day and had 500 people yell, "Caddy! Caddy! Towel!" as though I were President Bush's Secret Service agent and had dropped my gun. Caddy! Caddy! Uzi! So I knew they were watching. I raked as I have raked my own bunkers far too many times, climbed out, then placed the rake on the grass behind.
That's when I noticed Aaron staring at my rake job, then glancing at Fanny. Aaron nodded at her. She nodded back. Begay nodded. Sponge nodded back. For all I know, the huge crowd nodded. Only one of us had no idea what all the nodding was about. Suddenly, Fanny dashed over to the rake, picked it up, got back in the bunker, and did it again. Completely.
I was to suffer the ultimate caddy humiliation: Re-raked.
I was left with nothing to do but stand there and watch, humiliated. It was like a coach calling time-out in the middle of the Super Bowl and showing a quarterback how to put his hands under the center's butt.
And that's when I realized the horrible flaw in this book idea: Just because somebody "lets" you do something, doesn't mean you necessarily should go out and "do" it.
The fact that I, an absolute novice know-nothing, could get a bag and traipse my size 12s across the hallowed ground of Augusta National tells you how dangerously easy this whole idea was.
At the 2000 Masters, every past champion got a lifetime invitation, even if they were 111 years old. The rule has changed now, but then, it meant if Byron Nelson, then 89, felt like playing in next year's Masters, he could play. Naturally, since 1966, he has had the good sense not to.
Luckily, guys like 1957 champion Doug Ford (then 78) did not have good sense. He played every year until they made him stop in 2002. In the 2000 Masters, he went out there, threw a little 94 at them, and then withdrew. Meanwhile, a very good player sat home and bit his putter.
Naturally, figuring Ford was not exactly "counting" on winning and therefore might suffer an...
Reviews
Los Angeles Times...
"Reilly could write about lawn bowling and make it funny, informative, and entertaining. You never know what the next page is going to bring."
Charlotte Observer...
"You might not think the story of a man carrying Tommy Aaron's golf bag for 18 holes could make you laugh out loud, but you'd be wrong. Who's Your Caddy? is funny enough to coax a chuckle out of Vijay Singh. A great way to read about the game--and its people, too."
Fort Worth Star-Telegram...
"Goes down faster than a cool Bud on a 100-degree day."
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