Whit's Hits

So I witnessed a Col. Nathan R. Jessep moment at the Tavistock Cup yesterday.

The Tavistock event, for those who have better things to do, is an annual two-day Ryder Cup-style golf tournament between members of Isleworth Country Club and Lake Nona Golf & Country Club, both located in Orlando and both owned by British billionaire Joe Lewis and his Tavistock Group.  It’s become one of the hottest tickets in town, mostly because said tickets cannot be purchased.  The Tavistock Cup is invitation-only, so you gotta know somebody or know somebody who knows somebody.

One of the great attractions of this event is the intimacy.  With a crowd that probably barely exceeds 4,000 people and nearly unrestricted access to the course and the players, it’s a rare opportunity to see the best players in the world up close—and I mean *really* up close.  I literally had to take a step backwards on the 14th tee at Lake Nona yesterday to give Tiger Woods room for a practice swing.  And yes, I’ll be repeating that line for the rest of my life.

The Tavistock people absolutely lavish the players with every conceivable perk and luxury, up to and including the now-iconic helicopter rides back and forth between the two clubs:

...which is pretty cool, I have to admit.  (Photo credit: Getty Images)

In an effort to provide these elite players with a relaxed, collegial environment, Tavistock insists upon no cell phones or cameras anywhere on the property.  It’s printed on the badges, in the programs, and on the pairing sheets.  One cannot miss it.

Yet, this crowd being what it is, everybody ignores that policy and brings cell phones and/or cameras.  Fortunately, the marshalls who work the course aren’t naive, especially the ones who walk with Tiger’s group.  They know full well that a snapshot of Tiger at close range would be worth the risk of flaunting Tavistock’s policy, and they also know that seeing Stevie throw a well-heeled patron into Lake Nona might speak ill of the event.

So every time Tiger stepped onto a tee box yesterday, the marshall would step forward and announce loudly, “Please put down all cell phones and cameras.”  In fact, he said it at least twice.  In other words: please put away the cell phones and cameras that we ordered you not to bring, lest Tiger and his caddie become irate. 

First thing I thought of when I heard that?  Lt. Daniel Kaffee nailing Col. Jessep to the wall: “If you gave an order that Santiago wasn’t to be touched, and your orders are always followed, then why would he be in danger?  Why would it be necessary to transfer him off the base?”

This is how my mind works, by the way.  My wife reeeeeeeeeaaallly hates watching movies with me.

Anyway, seeing Tiger up close is pretty fascinating, especially in relation to all of the other star players in close proximity.  Every eye on the golf course is fixed on Woods, and he’s got to know it.  So, too, do the other players, who I think secretly enjoy the fact that he’s there to divert the attention.  What struck me the most, other than the ridiculous skill level of every player in the event, is the ‘normalcy’ of Woods while in the company of fellow pros. 

On that same tee where I had to step back to avoid a Nike driver to the noggin, Woods and Charles Howell III were discussing how long it would take them to finish the round (they had a long wait on the tee, as the 14th at Nona is a drivable par-4).  Apparently, their over/under on completing the round had been set at 5:45pm; it being about 3:45 in the afternoon at the time, and with only 5 holes to go, Woods was convinced that his selection (the under) was a mortal lock.  Apparently, Woods had somewhere he was supposed to be later that evening.

(There may or may not have been actual money riding on this over/under; I couldn’t gather from their conversation if this was just for fun or if they had actually put a bet on it.  It wouldn’t surprise me at all if there was actual coin on the line.  Tour pros are notorious for betting on anything and everything during practice rounds, and the rumor out there yesterday was that the unofficial handle between players, while not approaching the ‘official’ $3.5 million purse, was plenty big enough.  But that’s just (ahem) a rumor.)

As the 5:45 over/under discussion heated up, Howell turned to Woods and said, “Pards, you’re toast.”  He then promised to take 30 minutes over every tee shot from that point forward and grind over every putt like it was Sunday at Augusta.  Tiger cracked up.  It was the kind of needling that you and I would do during a Sunday afternoon round at the local muni, up to and including the speculation on whether or not we’d be home in time for dinner (and avoid the evil eye from the missus).

It was just guys playing golf.  Only it wasn’t just guys, it was Tiger Freaking Woods and Charles Howell III, two professionals whose combined career earnings exceed $120 million (that’s mostly Tiger).  The fact that all of this occurred within earshot of civilians like me and my two golf buddies in attendance is what makes the Tavistock Cup so unique.  I guess you had to be there.  I’m glad I was.