GM’s Bob Lutz says that Tiger’s presence as a spokesman didn’t help Buick sell cars. Buick having unattractive products at the time may have had more than a little to do with it, but Lutz’s comments fit nicely with my thesis that pro golfers are basically worthless as celebrity spokesmen—except perhaps in clothes. I can’t think of anyone I know who buys a product based on the fact that a particular golfer uses it.

I go even a step further in this: I even think that the whole notion of equipment companies having golfers “on staff” is utter nonsense. Callaway, for example, pays Mickelson millions to play their clubs on the theory that awestruck amateurs will spend big bucks to play the same sticks as Lefty.

Balderdash.

I don’t know a single golfer who plays a club because Biggie Pro does. There is some vague notion that the Pro V1 is worth playing because so many pros do, but no casual golfer could tell you with any degree of certainty who does—or does not—play the Pro V.  We know that Tiger plays Nike; Phil plays Callaway and Steve Stricker plays .... what exactly does Steve play? But that knowledge isn’t likely to sway anyone. Amateurs aren’t stupid. We know that we don’t have the skill to play the clubs Phil plays, and that even if we could, they’re not the same clubs found in the local pro shops—even if the name is the same. And we know that those pros will switch manufacturers as soon as one offers more money.

At most, having a big name pro with a company’s name on the bag raises that manufacturer’s recognition factor. That’s worth something, but certainly not all of the attention paid to staff pros and Darrell Survey club counts.

When the golfers in my circle feel the need for new clubs, they typically turn to three sources: First, to their friends. Second, to the local pro or pro shop clerk. And finally, to magazines and the internet. I’ve never been a part of a conversation which began “I need some new clubs, and saw that Phil is having a good year, so I bought Callaway.” I have been a part of lots of conversations that go: “Hey, you have a golf website. What clubs have you tried lately?” and “Can I try that driver in your bag.” I’ve certainly tried my share of clubs out of a partner’s bag.

And if a golfer can’t sell clubs—what can he sell? Certainly not cars (“I drive a Buick because Tiger does” is nonsensical). Or tax advice (Phil relies on KPMG, so I do too.).

Clothes perhaps. I admit to taking clues from styles worn by the pros (and by watching Sergio Garcia, I learn what NOT to wear. What the heck was that jogging suit he was wearing at the Match Play? And that banana suit he wore at the Open Championship?). I couldn’t tell you who wears what brand, though.

So I don’t blame Tiger for not selling Buicks. (It turns out that at least one of his cars was a Cadillac, anyway). And I don’t blame any golfer for taking the money. But I do wonder what those corporate execs are thinking.

If golf were scored like Olympic Figure Skating ...

Jim Nantz: So it’s come down to this: the seventy second hole of The Masters, with Tiger Woods and Jim Furyk tied for the lead. Lets see what the players are planning for us ...

David Feherty: (in an almost incomprehensible Irish accent)  For his final hole, Tiger has chosen to play “Pampas.” Its a 365 yard par 4—not the most difficult hole on the course.

Nantz: Its obvious that Tiger knows that he’s the judges’ favorite and has decided to take the conservative route. Right now, it’s his Masters to lose and he knows that.

Feherty: Tiger’s using a 4 iron off the tee. Again, not a very challenging choice, but I can see what his strategy is.

[Tiger slices the four iron down the right side of the fairway and it rolls into the second cut]

Feherty: The ball’s landing zone wasn’t quite where he had choreographed it, but you have to think that in the end, the judges will subtract a stroke for that follow through. In many judges minds, I’m sure he’ll be sitting 0 on the next shot. There isn’t anyone in golf who can hold a pose like that.

Nantz: And over on Pink Dogwood, we find Furyk preparing to play the 575 yard par 5.

The Wall Street Journal has a piece on how Obama’s federal electric car stimulus has been used to boost the sales of golf carts:

We thought cash for clunkers was the ultimate waste of taxpayer money, but as usual we were too optimistic. Thanks to the federal tax credit to buy high-mileage cars that was part of President Obama’s stimulus plan, Uncle Sam is now paying Americans to buy that great necessity of modern life, the golf cart.

The federal credit provides from $4,200 to $5,500 for the purchase of an electric vehicle, and when it is combined with similar incentive plans in many states the tax credits can pay for nearly the entire cost of a golf cart. Even in states that don’t have their own tax rebate plans, the federal credit is generous enough to pay for half or even two-thirds of the average sticker price of a cart, which is typically in the range of $8,000 to $10,000. “The purchase of some models could be absolutely free,” Roger Gaddis of Ada Electric Cars in Oklahoma said earlier this year. “Is that about the coolest thing you’ve ever heard?”

The golf-cart boom has followed an IRS ruling that golf carts qualify for the electric-car credit as long as they are also road worthy. These qualifying golf carts are essentially the same as normal golf carts save for adding some safety features, such as side and rearview mirrors and three-point seat belts.

And since there is apparently no limit on how many cars can be bought by an individual with this stimulus, some are stocking up on free carts for resale later. Others have figured out how to turn the electric car loophole into instant cash through a buy and leaseback arrangement.

Its just one more example of the unforseen consequences that nearly always occur when the government attempts to manipulate the market.

Imagine how bad it will be when the feds take over health care—amounting to one sixth of the national economy.

Thanks to John, editor of Grays on Trays for the tip.

What did Tiger learn from his near miss at the PGA Championship?

Don’t play three weeks in a row. Robert Lusetich at Fox Sports quotes the Striped One:

“That’s the thing, (playing) three weeks is fine, but being in contention just about every day, it puts a toll on you,” Woods said Wednesday.

“It was a long three weeks.”

Perhaps not as long as the days since having his unblemished record — he had been 14-for-14 in converting third-round leads at majors — snapped.

“That night was tough, no doubt,” said Woods in something of an understatement.

“I went home and took a few days off, away from golf. I was a little tired of it.”

I think the lesson Tiger should have learned is that he needs to work more on his putting. It’s not the knees and the swing; it’s the flat stick.

[rant=“on”]

And while I’m at it, let me say that I’m tired of hearing about how hard it is to play professional golf. My irritation began when the fawning media began writing about how Tiger just wasn’t the same when coming back after a month off following the death of his father. I know exactly how the death of a father who also was a best friend can hurt. Lots of people do. But we don’t get to take a month off, and we still are expected to produce results. Under my contract, I got two days off. And when I returned, you can bet the teens in my classes weren’t cutting me any slack out of sympanthy. (To his credit, Tiger never made excuses. My irritation began with the media, not with him)

Now, however, the word is that it’s hard to work for three straight weeks. Or being at the top of your game for three straight weeks. Everyone that I know works for weeks and weeks on end. They work under plenty of pressure (Cops, just to take one example, have the life-and-death kind; executives have the livelihoods of thousands in their hands; and everyone faces the pressure of keeping the boss happy and the paychecks coming). And they are expected to be just as good in week twenty as they were in week one.

Or lets just compare sports. How about baseball players in a pennant race? Can you imagine A-Rod going to the skipper and saying: “Skip. I just can’t play three weeks in a row. I need to take a week or two off in August.” Can you imagine Kobe, or Nicklas Lindstom sitting down for a week or two in the playoffs?

No. Those excuses only seem to work with professional golf.

Sheesh. No wonder people argue about whether golfers really are athletes.

[rant=“off”]

The most exciting thing to watch in golf is the back nine on a Sunday afternoon, with both members of the final group trading shot for shot, and a championship on the line. Whether at Augusta, an Open Championship venue, or at a regular tour stop, there’s a terrible tension born of the knowledge that each shot could be the one that wins or loses the Championship.

It’s that tension—that excitement—that explains why I love match play events. In match play, evey hole of every match is the equivalent of the back nine at Augusta on a Sunday.

Geoff Ogilvy said this past weekend that in the course of an entire PGA Tour season, he might face two or three “must make” shots, but would face eighteen of those a round at the Match Play championship.

That’s pressure.

In medal play, players know that if they lose a shot on one hole—or even a series of holes—they can make it up later. Announcers designate certain holes as birdie opportunities where players can get back up the leaderboard, as in: Bob Jones has fallen three behind, but that was the toughest part of the coure ... now he’ll have an easy stretch where he can regain some of that lost ground.

Shots just can’t be “made up” in Match Play. A bad shot can cost a hole, and even winning the next does not erase the finality of that score. There’s also no way to take advantage of an easy stretch. Your sole opponent is playing the same holes at the same time.

Match Play is about interaction, and thus totally changes the calculus. Players must be keenly aware of what their opponents are doing. They can’t just “play their own game,” waiting to go low on holes that favor their shot peculiarities. Instead, they are forced to respond to the fine play—or miscues—of their opponents.

Pulling off a high risk - high reward shot forces an opponent to attempt the same. Conversely, a serious error gives an opponent an opening with a variety of ways to take advantage. 

Even the post-round interviews are different in a match play event. Regular tournament interviews are rather boring affairs, with players recounting their thought processes on various holes, describing course conditions and thanking sponsors.

Post match play interviews are all about the competition. Players describe how their opponent’s putting put them on the defensive, or how their own long drives put pressure on the other guy. They talk about the hole where the momentum swung, and of giving up an unforced error. They talk strategy.

It’s too bad that the professional golf tours don’t offer more match play events. But television hates Match play and this weekend was a perfect example of why: the biggest names were all out before the final round on Sunday. Ogilvy and Casey are fine players—and Ogilvy is a superstar in the making—but the casual audience wants Tiger and Phil. In a medal play event, even if Tiger isn’t at the top of the board, the producers still can give him the lion’s share of the camera time. In the Match Play Championship, losers are nowhere to be found.

Television also hates Match Play’s unpredictable time clock. If the matches end early, the producers are stuck trying to find things to fill up empty television minutes.

One solution might be to create a winner’s and loser’s bracket after the Saturday round. There’s no practical reason for having just two matches on Sunday. Having four more players would offer much more variety. A loser’s bracket wouldn’t have kept Tiger around, but Phil, Ernie and other stars would have had matches on Sunday that the television could have used as filler.

As it is, I can’t wait for the President’s Cup this fall, when match play makes its return.