Interviewed By Guy Yocom
Photo By Dom Furore April 2006

When I go to the Masters to call the tournament for CBS, I feel a sense of mortality. You think you're old, having watched Gene Sarazen as an honorary starter? Well, I played with him in the tournament. All 18 holes, in 1970, my first Masters. The only solace in that is that I had a lower score than he did that day.

Working at CBS is my first real job. I mean in terms of reporting to somebody, of having to toe the line. That's hard for 99 percent of Americans to imagine, but there you have it. When a directive comes through my headphones to address an issue I'm not comfortable addressing, I have to do it, and that isn't easy. In that regard I've become a working stiff like everybody else.

Here's a stat you might hear from me this spring: Going into the Masters, there is exactly one American player under the age of 30 with more than one tour win: Jonathan Byrd. And there's only one guy under the age of 30 with a major championship: Ben Curtis. That's it! That's a frightening statistic, and it tells me the strategy for developing young players today is not working.

Teachers and players might defend the idea of whacking 185-yard 7-irons on the range for six hours, but they should forget the range, video and swing monitors and start playing golf. Playing is so much more important than practicing. Young players today all hit the ball great, but they're missing an edge when it comes to scoring and course management. This devotion to the range is like a disease.

After the Dallas Cowboys drafted Troy Aikman and camp was underway, some writers asked Jerry Jones how Aikman was coming along. "All I can say right now is that he looks good in the shower," Jones said. That's the young tour player exactly. There isn't one that doesn't look like a superstar on the range. The thing is, they hand out the scorecards on the first tee.

I was on several losing Ryder Cup teams as a player, none as painful as the loss when I was captain [1995 at Oak Hill]. I thought I'd done everything perfectly, and still we got beat. At around midnight, as I sat in my room alone with a lot of drink in me, the phone rang. It was Tom Watson. "I knew you'd still be up," he said. "Don't worry about it. It happens. You did everything right." I've known Watson forever — we stayed in the Crow's Nest together at our first Masters. I gave him the driver he used to win eight majors.

Mickey Mantle was a very good friend of mine. Went to dinner together a lot, played countless rounds of golf. I'll tell you, he was the most impressive club-thrower you ever saw. When he'd get angry, he'd raise the club next to his right ear and flip it. His hand didn't move more than a foot or so, but the club went 40 yards on a line, and if it happened to hit a golf cart, damage was done. You could see how he hit a ball out of Tiger Stadium.