My day as a PGA Tour pro

My so-called Tour life: Lessons learned as I play "pro for a day"

“Can you sign this?” the man asked.

It was my first ever—and likely last ever—autograph request. I didn’t know what he meant. Sign what? Was I being served papers? Did I “forget” to pay for my pancake breakfast?

The request came as I walked off the practice green on pro-am day at Turning Stone Resort Championship, in Verona, N.Y., my caddie—Barrett etched on his bibbed back—at my side. There on the green, on a cold rainy Wednesday, I’d been rubbing logoed shoulders with Tour pros. “Ricky, great Open at Bethpage. Davis, my man, how about this weather? We could use that rainbow.” I overheard two pros discuss an investment opportunity, minimum entry: $1 million. I asked, “Can I get in on that? Will they take a check post-dated to 2023?”

Now the fan was approaching me, Sharpie and flag in hand. “Can you sign this?” he asked. He thought I was a pro! “Sure thing,” I said. I scribbled my Tiger Hancock on the upper-right corner. “I’d better not see this on eBay,” I cracked. Ho! My peeps love patter—makes me more accessible to the common man. For proof, I snapped a photo of the signed flag [see above]. The fan shot me a suspicious look. Phew! Almost busted.

As I walked to the first tee to meet my pro—three-time Tour winner John Rollins—I thought, What a blast. I feel just like a PGA Tour pro (minus the talent, trophies, trophy wife, groupies, cascading waterfalls of sponsorship cash, and blind devotion to the Republican platform. But other than that...) I could get used to this.

Dear readers, if you have the money, a generous boss, or a sugar momma/daddy/cousin, I highly recommend that you pony up to play in a PGA Tour pro-am. It’s not cheap—a slot runs from about $5,000 to $10,000—but it supports the Tour’s sizable charitable donations and is tax deductible, helps inoculate your game to pressure, and, most importantly, lets you feel like a pro, a Colossus perched high above the world of professional golf.

Whether you're prepping for your own Big Match, or considering a pro-am, here are some lessons gleaned from this humble three-putting, chip-chunking, (formerly) hyperventilating 8-handicap wannabe Tour pro.

Everything is relative
The most concise advice I received about overcoming pro-am pressure came from LPGA Tour pro Anna Rawson, who said, “We expect you to suck. If you find the rough, we’re impressed.” Ahh, the power of lowered expectations.

I also got a pep talk from a reader named Andy: "There are more serious things happening in this world. That'll give you some [golf] perspective. Also, realize that no matter how bad you swing, there’s always someone that's worse, i.e, Barkley."

And anyone can handle pressure better than the victim in one anecdote, from CazTX: "I saw a guy knock the visor off his head with his own ball... He was a few inches from killing himself."

Hone a pre-shot routine
To my surprise, I never felt all that nervous come pro-am day. For that I can mostly thank a simple, repeatable pre-shot routine that mental-game expert Joe Parent helped me with. A good routine is like donning a suit of armor that shields you from external and internal distractions. On the first tee I thought I'd be shaking like Mike Tyson on “Jeopardy!”, but the pre-shot routine I’d honed all week—pick target, deep breath, two waggles, swing!—essentially tricked my mind into thinking I was back on the range, a place without consequences, and far from the gallery, my partners, my pro. On no. 1, I smoothed a drive down the middle.

Tom Watson compares a good routine to entering a quiet room. Rollins echoed that sentiment. “When I won my first event [The Bell Canadian Open] in 2002, my hands were shaking so bad in the playoff with Justin Leonard and Neal Lancaster," he recalled. "Under pressure, it’s the small muscles that are hard to control. You have to rely on a good, consistent routine to pull you through in the big moments.”

Beware second-tee jitters
So, you conquered first-tee fears and poked it down the middle? Good on ya. Now, guard against what could follow: the unheralded second-tee, or second-shot, letdown. Golf Magazine editor David Clarke warned me, “I once played in a pro-am and hit a great drive down the middle on the first tee. I was so relieved that I lost focus and shanked my second shot dead right.”

Sure enough, after a solid start, on the second hole I skulled a short iron over the green, two bounces, and thump! I pegged tournament volunteer George Taylor in his open umbrella. [See photo]. I had a wallet full of business cards on which I’d written (seriously) Sorry I beaned you in your [body part]. Enjoy 1 free year of Golf Magazine. I gave him one and apologized. “Don’t worry about it,” he said and smiled. “I used to be a prize-fighter. I sparred with champions. Your ball felt like a weak jab.” That's me. I float like a bee and sting like a butterfly.

Give, and get, positive feedback
Few feelings in golf, I learned Wednesday, beat hearing genuine praise from a Tour pro. On one hole, I stuck an 8-iron to about 15 feet. “Hey, really good swing,” Rollins said, making eye contact. Approval! From the man ranked no. 25 on the money list, no less. That means something—like praise from your dad or a demanding boss. Rollins knows a good shot when he sees it. My confidence boosted, I made a net birdie on the hole. He gave me a fist bump. My hacker heart went pitter-patter. Is this what a man crush feels like? I confess: At that moment, I wanted to scribble “JR+CB” all over my Trapper Keeper. But that's too much information, right?

To be (optimistic), or not to be…
That is the question. Shakespeare wrote that there is “neither good nor bad, but thinking it makes it so.” Or was that Bob Rotella? No matter. Point is, pressure is perception. It’s not positive or negative. It’s just… pressure. What you do with it, how you process it, is up to you. Like a lump of clay, you can mold it into what you wish. It can propel you or bury you.

For example, on my last hole, I had a 15-footer uphill for par, which Rollins read for me. Normally my mindset would be something like, Don't mess up! Instead, I recalled something Arnold Palmer said. He looked at must-make shots as opportunities to be seized, not feared. He couldn't wait to take a rap at that Big Putt. I thought, How sweet would it be to drain this, end with a par, and hear the gallery applaud? I knocked it in. Cue: golf clap.

How would thinking like Arnie change your game?

I shot in the 90s, with five pars, plenty of bogeys. There were stretches when my oily swing leaked a trail of WD-40, but pressure had nothing to do with the breakdowns. 

Feed off your partner's energy
My team lucked out. John Rollins was friendly, helpful in reading greens, and quick to offer tips. Not all pros are that classy. “Players have to play in pro-ams, or they could lose points for their retirement funds,” said Jim McGovern, a veteran of more than 60 pro-ams who ran Buick’s golf program. He now consults for title sponsors of Tour events. “Truth is, a lot of players hate pro-ams and would give their first born if they could eliminate the whole shebang.”

If your playing partner has an ornery attitude, McGovern suggests, you can feed off that energy. Let it motivate you. “Maybe the worst attitude I ever came across in a pro-am was Dan Pohl's," McGovern said. "Early in our round, he says, ‘I’d rather be in a pool with a beer and a broad than playing with you guys.’ I looked at my boss and said, ‘Well, that’s $16,000 well spent.’ That motivated us! We started getting on him. He’d hit a bad shot, and we’d say, ‘You sure you're a Tour pro? Show us your card. How'd you get your name on that bag?’ We laughed our asses off and played pretty well.

“During a rain delay, he says to us, ‘You’re the most miserable foursome I’ve ever played with.’ My boss says, ‘No, that would be too much of a coincidence.’ ”