Here in this cradle of affluence, where even the butlers have servants, there is still room for ordinary folks. At the Bob Hope Classic, if you’re synonymous with being anonymous, so much the better.
Scott Hoch, hardly a star on the pro golf circuit, didn’t qualify for celebrity field this week. While some of his more popular lodge brothers rubbed elbows with comedians, band leaders, linebackers and Hall of Fame catchers, Hoch was grinding away in relative solitude at other courses.
But when the hackers sat and the real golfers convened Sunday at Indian Wells Country Club, it was too late to chase Hoch even if everybody didn’t quite catch his name.
He began this marathon event with a four-shot advantage, posted a 2-under-par 70, and eased to his fifth victory on the PGA Tour. Hoch never was really challenged, not even by a ghost from his past. The man can whistle through a graveyard with the best of them.
Hoch, as in choke. On occasions when he requires no introduction, it’s because of 1989 at Augusta National. He stood over a 2-foot putt to win the Masters. He hasn’t made it yet. Nick Faldo won the green jacket on the next playoff hole. Hoch, who became instantly infamous instead of famous, was measured for the strait jacket. Yet, he has never felt comfortable wearing it, because self-pity is a sure path from the fairway to the rough. The length of that putt has grown, but so has Hoch.
“I blew a 3-footer in front of 50 million people, you got to live with it,” Hoch said. “Thing is, I can do that any day, any place. It wasn’t the pressure. I might have read it wrong or miss-hit it, but it wasn’t the pressure.”
Dealing with whatever it was has enabled Hoch to produce instead of perish. He won a tournament in Las Vegas shortly after the one he botched in Georgia, he survived shoulder surgery, and he passed the $4 million mark Sunday by collecting $198,000 with a minimum amount of difficulty. He didn’t pull the driver from his bag, because at Indian Wells you don’t need one. It plays as short as it looks (6,478 yards), and you really must search for trouble to find it.
Hoch might have unraveled at No. 14, a par 5 where his second shot crashed to an awkward lie in a bunker. His stance was well above the ball and he had a considerable beachhead to negotiate before the green. It’s just the spot where a double-digit handicapper takes too little sand and drills a screaming line drive toward one of those swimming pools. Hoch calmly dropped the shot a couple feet from the stick for a birdie. Game over.
Hoch watched a series of uplifting movies Saturday night-“Hoosiers,” “Blue Chips” and “On Deadly Ground”-to avoid wayward thoughts before his final round. The quality of the opposition Sunday, however, was not nearly as inspired.
Lennie Clements, still without a triumph since turning pro in 1981, tied Fuzzy Zoeller and Jim Gallagher for second and $82,133.33-almost triple Clements’ best payday. That’s how Hoch could cruise despite managing a mere 70 at Indian Wells.
The utter lack of theatrics was rare for the Hope Classic and it couldn’t have helped the market value of this host club, which is for sale. Indian Wells was seized by the U.S. Customs Service when its former owner engaged in an elaborate money-laundering scheme. If you’re interested, bring $30 million or so to the May auction. By then, Hoch will have returned to the Masters for another attempt.
“I’ll be asked about that putt all over again,” he said. “Which is fine. I can handle it.”
Indeed, Hoch is a fiesty type who often gets the rap of being borderline ornery. For example, he resided this week at the nearby home of Ed Middleton, an NBA referee. Hoch, a resident of Orlando, met Middleton while watching his beloved Magic from front-row seats.
“He used to give me some lip for my calls,” said Middleton, a spectator Sunday. “Finally, I turned to Scott one night and gave it to him about that putt at the Masters. We’ve been friends ever since.”
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