This week's PGA will be autograph hell: Sharpie-wielding mobs
that leave players with more marks than Vito Antuofermo. The
autograph thing has gotten more intense and corporate with the
emergence of the Striped One. (Sorry, but using his real name
carries a five-dollar fine. I've got my own embargo on bumping
fists, another Big Cat ritual with too many imitators.) The
wide-eyed little kid who's dying for a memento from his hero has
been replaced by the wide-eyed little kid hired by a collector to
act as if he's dying for a memento from his hero.
Because the players know that collectors want everything signed
in black ink, many carry colored pens. My boss, Ben Crenshaw,
uses green. Sometimes I'll even get asked to sign. I usually
write, "I'm not Carl. Love, Linn," in hot-pink ink.
Linn Strickler has caddied on the PGA Tour for 27 years.