Hauser: Sifford's push for diversity an ongoing task
By Melanie Hauser, PGATOUR.COM Correspondent
He grew up in a black and white world.
One where he couldn't sit at certain lunch counters. One where he was told to drink from water fountains labeled "colored" and sit in the back of the bus. One where he could walk a country club fairway as a caddie, but not as a player.
One where, when he did make it to the big time, he found resistance. And racism.
It wasn't enough to play the course. He had to navigate the hazards outside the ropes -- the death threats, the epithets, the hostility and things you don't like to talk about. Like 1952 in Phoenix when he and Joe Louis were playing in an all-black foursome and he reached into the cup on the first hole and found it filled with feces. The round was delayed an hour while they replaced the cup.
Charlie Sifford had a dream.
The North Carolina kid who made 60 cents a day as a caddie -- 50 cents went straight back to his mom; the other 10 cents for cigars -- wanted to play golf with the best in the world, not just the best black players in the game. He wanted to play at Riviera and Pebble Beach and Greensboro and Augusta National. He wanted to make a living and earn the respect of his peers.
He wanted to snap that color line in golf the way Louis and Jackie Robinson did in boxing and baseball. And in 1960, he finally did, earning a player's card. A year later, a push from the courts removed the "Caucasians only" clause from PGA charter; a few years later, Sifford became a full PGA member.
Pardon Sifford if he still sounds a little bitter or cynical at times.
| Uneven Fairways | |
|
Can you blame him?
Try to imagine walking in his shoes for one hole, let alone a day, back in the early 1950s. There were times when he must have wanted to quit; times when he had to talk himself out of going at it with a loudmouth and taking him down the way he once dropped a donkey in the Philippines -- with one punch -- to win a $10 bet.
Some things stay with you. You can't shake 'em. No matter how hard you try.
You hear it in his voice. You see it in his eyes.
You think back to what Jay Hebert said decades ago.
"I think that Charlie's the greatest player out here. If we had his problems, none of us would shoot the way he does.''
Indeed. What Sifford did was amazing. When police officers warned him he was playing at his own risk, when Robinson warned him there would be days he'd want to quit, old Charlie just chomped a little harder on his ever-present cigar.
He opened the door Bill Spiller and Teddy Rhodes had cracked. He paved the way for Lee Elder and Calvin Peete and Jim Dent.
He set the stage for Tiger Woods.
Sifford never played Augusta National. Never stepped foot on the grounds. His two wins -- the 1967 Greater Hartford Open and 1969 Los Angeles Open -- were before the qualification list included tournament winners. He wasn't lucky enough to get an invitation either. One year, he got half the number of votes, but close didn't count.
He allowed himself a few tears when Tiger shattered that last barrier in 1997. He mumbled at the television for three rounds as his grandson, as he calls Tiger, built a nine-shot lead.
He went to church that Sunday morning to send up a few prayers that Tiger could hold it together for 18 more holes. Today, Sifford lives in a Technicolor world.
Tiger is the best player on the planet, and Barack Obama sits in the Oval office. And Sifford? He's in the World Golf Hall of Fame - for the five consecutive Negro Opens he won from 1952-1956, for the two PGA TOUR wins, for his career on the Champions Tour, for the choice he made a lifetime ago to change the face of a game one shot at a time.
Sifford never passes up the chance to keep pushing. He wants to see those uneven fairways he played on to disappear for good. He pleads for more diversity in the game, asking it to reach deeper, not just reach out.
A week from now, Oregon State graduate Vincent Johnson will be teeing it up at Riviera in the Northern Trust Open and taking another step toward his dream. The 22-year-old African American was chosen to receive the first Charlie Sifford Exemption granted by the tournament -- something Sifford sees as a wonderful thing that's long overdue.
Johnson majored in finance and minored in music, graduated in three years and has been working on his game and looking for financial backing in a struggling economy.
"The financial backing is a challenge," Johnson told The Associated Press. "I don't have the resume that I'd like to have, and also the economy. There couldn't have been a tougher time to turn pro."
Sifford could.
We could.
The game, the world has come so far since those black-and-white lunch counter days. From the days when Sifford must have wanted to walk away, but instead walked straight ahead.
Yes, when Sifford talks about those days you hear the bitterness, you feel the pain.
But you also see the smiles. The one captured at the 1969 L.A. Open when he raised his arms high after sinking the winning birdie putt. The one for Tiger's Masters. The one -- through tears -- at the Hall of Fame induction.
The one we have when we realize what Sifford endured was unconscionable, but what his journey produced was nothing short of powerful.
Melanie Hauser is a columnist for PGATOUR.COM. Her views do not necessarily represent the views of the PGA TOUR.
Shop your favorite brand name golf equipment and accessories at SHOP.PGATOUR.COM
FAN ZONE
PGATOUR.com is part of the Turner Sports and Entertainment Digital Network