Whaley's quiet life turned upside down for GHO
FARMINGTON, Conn. -- It's a little after 8:30 a.m. in this stylish, wooded neighborhood and everything seems normal. A garbage truck rumbles through on its Monday route. A school bus picks up kids to take them to day camp. And television producers have transformed Suzy Whaley's backyard into a Hollywood soundstage.
Here, behind a contemporary home on a quiet cul-de-sac, spotlights compete with early morning sunlight. Boom mikes lean on the trunk of oak trees 300 years old. And red and yellow electrical cords slither through the bright green grass like garter snakes.
This is what life has been like for Whaley since September, when the 36-year-old club pro won the PGA Connecticut Sectional and earned a spot in this week's Greater Hartford Open, becoming the first woman to qualify for a PGA Tour event in 58 years. Since then, she says she's done 1,800 interviews. Answered at least 5,000 questions. CNN has come by. So, too, has the George Michael SportsMachine. And countless others. Whaley has hired Peter Jacobsen's PR firm to manage the craziness.
But just when it looks like she's big time, just when it seems like the new Palm Pilot is going to Whaley's head, just when she's becoming more of a tour pro and less of a mom, she slams the brakes on another interview in mid-sentence.
"I'm sorry," she asks. "Can you hold on?"
Standing behind Whaley on the patio are her two daughters, Jennifer, 8, and Kelly, 6. They're sipping lemonade out of clear plastic cups and, despite fighting ear infections, have spent much of the morning bouncing in and out of the house like pinballs.
"Hold it right there," says Whaley, swiveling to face her daughters. "Plant it. You're driving me nuts."
This is no Annika Sorenstam trying to see where she stacks up with the big boys. No Babe Didrikson trying to prove she can whip the world. At a time when Augusta National refuses to admit female members, when Vijay Singh criticizes Sorenstam for playing in a men's event, Whaley is nothing more than a working mom, an unassuming head pro at a quaint public course, taking advantage of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
| Whaley's 2003 results | |||
| In the last 21 years, no Connecticut sectional qualifier has made the cut at the Greater Hartford Open. Club pro Suzy Whaley is doing everything she can to break that string, including participating in four LPGA events. Her results in those tournaments: | |||
| Event | Score | Finish | |
|
Big Apple Classic (July 17-20) |
69-75-75-72 291 (+7) |
T48 | |
|
Giant Eagle LPGA (June 13-15) |
74-71-72 217 (+1) |
T50 | |
|
LPGA Championship (June 5-8) |
79-82 161 (+19) |
Cut | |
|
Michelob Light Open (May 1-4) |
77-73 150 (+8) |
Cut | |
She shuttles car pool. She pushes swings. She plays fetch in the backyard with the family's black lab, Beauty.
At work, she washes golf carts. She stocks shelves. She stands behind a cash register, ringing up another well-to-do foursome for their cart and green fees.
When her kids are sick, as they were on this recent summer day, she times her call to the pediatrician, knowing full well that if she doesn't call precisely when the office opens at 9 a.m., she might not get an appointment for that day.
She has the help of a nanny, but still, is the ultimate working mom. And yet later this week, she'll tee it up with some of the greatest golfers in the world.
"This isn't something that I sought out to get," Whaley said. "It just sort of happened. I'm a mom. I'm a club pro. Never in a million years did I think I'd be in this position."
Growing up in Syracuse, N.Y., Whaley dreamed of skiing in the Olympics, not breaking golf's gender barriers. She played at the University of North Carolina and spent two years on the LPGA Tour in 1990 and '93, never finishing in the top 50 on the tour's money list.
"I always saw myself as a lawyer who had a decent golf game," said Whaley, the former Tar Heel law student. "Not much more."
Following Jennifer's birth in 1994, Whaley began working as a teaching professional under legendary teaching pro Jim Flick. A thirst for competition led her to enroll in various tournaments for club pros. And then came last September.
Playing from tees 10 percent closer to the pins than her male competitors, Whaley shot a 5-under-par, 54-hole score of 68-72-71--211 to win the Connecticut sectional and make history. Though a rule was later created that said all players must hit from the same tees, it took nothing away from what Whaley had accomplished.
Three months after winning the Connecticut sectional, she formally accepted the accompanying exemption to the GHO.
Since then, the transition from club pro/mom to PGA Tour member for a week hasn't been easy. Her two biggest challenges on the course, overcoming the heat from the public spotlight and dealing with a lack of distance, have consumed her.
An intense weightlifting program has transformed to 10-15 yards more off the tee, but it's nowhere near the PGA Tour pace. Whaley's average of 250 yards per drive is 11 yards behind Loren Roberts, who ranks last on the Tour in average driving distance.
She does have one enormous advantage. The man who carries around business cards that read "Suzy's husband" is the general manager at River Highlands. The same River Highlands that, coincidentally, plays host to the GHO.
"It's really made things more comfortable," Suzy said of her husband's knowledge of the course. "(Bill) points out things like if I hit it 5 yards to the left, I can get 20 yards more roll. I can attack this green with a wood, but not that one. It really should help."
Off the course, maintaining a sane life has proved challenging. Between practice rounds, speaking engagements, media interviews and the rigorous 2½-hour daily workout regimen, there hasn't been much extra time for work and the kids.
"It is what it is," she said. "Like I have four full-time jobs. But we get it done. One day at a time, we get it done."
Her voice mail at work is backlogged with messages, so much so that Whaley instructs callers to phone the pro shop, a private marketing firm, or Jacobsen's PR outfit, depending on their needs. "Please do not leave a message," she says.
Lisa Wilson-Foley, the owner of Blue Fox Run, where Whaley is the head pro, estimates her top employee has put in "5 percent" of the time she did the year before.
"This year, she's a bad employee," Wilson-Foley said. "If you asked her husband, she's probably a bad wife. And she's probably not the best mom right now, either.
"But you know what? It's only a year. And I couldn't imagine anyone standing in her way."
That's because Whaley's motivation is her daughters. It was Jennifer who reversed a post soccer game pep talk about giving her all into a gut check as to why mom was unsure about playing in the GHO. And last May, the two girls handed her a Mother's Day card, thanking Mom for "helping us with our homework and teaching us right from wrong." It added that she was a role model for playing in the GHO.
"I'm going to be proud of her just because she tried," said Jennifer, surrounded by the lights, cameras and microphones from the visiting television crew. "She was a special mom and still is now."
Through all the interviews, all the questions, there's one query that everyone eventually gets to: "What are you going to shoot?" Type Suzy Whaley in a Google search and the first result is an online sports stockbroker game selling artificial stock as to whether she will make the cut. The stock, which would be worth $100 per share if Whaley made the cut, is currently valued at $4. In other words, more than 95 percent of the near 17,000 users do not think she will be playing on the weekend.
From the beginning, Whaley has politely declined all queries about a target score. But listen to her dance around the question, read the confident, almost sly grin on her face and you begin to think she might know something that you don't.
"I won't give a number. It's not right," she said. "But I've already shot a couple rounds that not only was I thrilled with, but the media would have been pretty impressed with, too. So we'll see."
We'll see. What could be more motherly than that?
Wayne Drehs is a staff writer for ESPN.com. He can be reached at wayne.drehs@espn3.com.
