In 2005, I’d completed my first decade at Pebble Beach and I was an established Head Professional at a highly regarded club. I had a thriving family, a home in Pebble Beach, and my own golf cart which I drove to and from work. I had an exceptional team working alongside me at Spyglass Hill and it was a privilege to deliver meaningful experiences to the guests that visited. I met interesting people every day, and I was thrilled that the greatest players in the world came to the Monterey Peninsula for the AT&T Pebble Beach Pro-Am each year. I’d spent quality time with many of the dudes I watched on TV. Although the week was demanding, it was exciting to be in the middle of the action and watch the best play your home course.
The parking lot at Spyglass Hill is undersized for an event of the AT&T Pro-Am’s magnitude. Each vehicle was given a parking pass based on needs and our infrastructure. In 2005, we’d reduced access to the Spyglass Hill lot to ensure there was adequate space for players. In past years, passes with the numbers 0, 1, or 4 were allowed. This particular year, we were only allowing 0 and 4. And when you are part of a large company, running a massive event, and using many volunteers, sometimes communication slips through the cracks. In this particular case, my kryptonite was four grey-haired ladies that sold programs at a spot adjacent to the 9th green. They had a pass with a 1, which meant they couldn’t park in the Spyglass Hill lot in 2005. Unfortunately for me, they’d been parking in the Spyglass Hill lot since 1975.
I was running around when I got the call on the radio from Robert, an ex-cop that was guarding the lot. One thing I will say about my leadership style–I put people in positions where they can succeed. Robert was a hard-ass and his hands were bigger than Arnold Palmer’s. In fact, you could put a quarter through his wedding ring. This was not the man to give static. But he was completely overmatched by the four grey-haired women in the minivan. They were going to park in the lot like they always had and they refused to move. The single entrance to the Spyglass Hill lot was blocked and cars were starting to queue.
I hustled over and assured the ladies I had them handled. Pebble Beach did a great job teaching staff how to deliver messaging in situations like these. The secret was to always give the recipient the idea you were saying yes, even though you were saying no. I asked them to pull into our parking circle and I had a “reserved space” for them in our auxiliary lot, which was locked and used for overflow. You see what I did there? They obliged and pulled forward. While I was executing the Jedi Mind Trick, there was a small white rental trailing, leaning on the horn. I waved the car forward and the passenger side window rolled down. I leaned in to offer a quick apology for the delay. Before I could get a word out, I recognized the driver. It was the current Money Leader and #2 player in the world, Vijay Singh.
“What the f*** is going on?” was an impressive opener by the big man from Fiji. Before I could answer the question, it was followed with, “you know, we are playing in a f’ing tournament here and I don’t have time to deal with your f’ing stupidity!” There was a younger woman in the passenger seat that had the look on her face that said she’d seen this behavior before. I choked out a quick apology and the car moved forward into the lot.
I watched Vijay park his car and take his sweet time putting his shoes on. He was chomping on an apple and hamming it up with another pro parked across from him. And I was getting more pissed off by the second. I asked Robert for the starting times brochure, which I had given him to cross-reference entry because half the pros forget their parking passes. Vijay was scheduled to tee off at 10:20am. I looked at my watch and it was 8:30am. He was in a rush? Two hours before tee time? And he certainly wasn’t moving at a quick pace right now. At that moment, I realized that Vijay Singh was a bully. He liked to pick on people that had no status–like volunteers–which is what he thought I was. But what he didn’t know is that I had some status. I was the host professional and I had spent years building relationships with PGA Tour officials.
My first thought as he sauntered across our parking circle was to revert back to my football days and clip him off at the knees. But I didn’t have the cash to defend myself in a lawsuit, so that option quickly left the table. So, I did what a powerless kid does when he gets his lunch money taken. I called the Principal’s Office. In this case, the Principal’s office was PGA Tour Headquarters.
They picked up on the 2nd ring.
“Hi. Bill Sendell here. What would happen if a player verbally accosted one of the host professionals?”
“Well, we would want to know more about that.”
I explained the interaction.
“Welp, that’s five grand (fine).”
But I still wasn’t appeased. I wasn’t getting my writing fix at the time because I wasn’t blogging in 2005. And, as we’ve established over the course of the Where’s William Now adventure, I’m like a dog with a bone. So, I sat down and wrote a letter to Tim Finchem, the PGA Tour Commissioner. I think my initial thrust was to get the message out that people like me, along with staff and volunteers, work very hard to make sure guys like Vijay Singh have a great week. And since he was a top player on Tour, the bar was naturally higher. I shared it with a few friends and they all energetically agreed I needed to send it. I sent it to my boss, RJ Harper, and got different instructions. One thing about Pebble Beach is they don’t like press unless it’s positive. While RJ agreed I was treated badly and was right in principle, he didn’t approve of me sending the letter. So, it sat quietly in a folder. What I didn’t know was now the story was loudly out in the atmosphere because I can’t keep my fat trap shut.
There was a small publication called Golfweek, and a reporter got hold of the story. He didn’t interview me, but he summarized the event and the subsequent fine. That really made it “go viral.” For the next 18 months, I had random people coming into the Spyglass Hill Pro Shop looking for me because they had their own Vijay story to share. Most of them were volunteers who’ got’d gotten torched because they wouldn’t let Vijay park in a restricted area or were too slow to fill up his bucket at the range. But I will share two of my favorites:
- A Tournament Director for a match play event in Arizona told me how Vijay demanded a chopper in and out of the course each day. The Director politely said that was above his pay grade. After styling Vijay with passes for his entourage and constructing the caddie’s bike (without a shred of acknowledgment), Vijay turned around on his way out and said, “I’m serious. You get me that f’ing chopper.”
- A friend was having dinner at Roy’s across from Vijay one year. The Fijian was at a big table and everyone left briefly, so he was by himself. My friend noticed a dad and young son sitting at an adjacent table scouting the situation. They figured Vijay was now more approachable as he reached across to the dessert from another place setting. They came up from behind, and the dad said, “Excuse me….,” and before he could complete the sentence, Vijay said “nope” without even turning around to face them.
In retrospect, I believe these events happened because our culture elevates athletes and celebrities in an unhealthy way. So, it’s not completely their fault they expect special treatment and have a meltdown when they don’t get their way. I also know that “regular people” are always pulling on them and everyone has a bad day. But based on the evidence collected, I believe Vijay is the type of guy that has lots of bad days. He enjoys using his status to make people feel small. Fortunately, I can confirm after meeting and playing golf with many other “stars” over the years that Vijay Singh is an exception.
So, Vijay–thanks for making my day and earning a $5,000 fine for being unnecessarily rude. Even though it’s been over 20 years, I continue to wish you a lifetime of three putts with your broom handle putter. Also, I noticed Karma is catching up to you because you now chip cross-handed. And yes, I have a hard time letting go of a grudge.
