Was it my imagination or did the NFL draft last about 3½ months? Didn't the hype start about four minutes after Texas beat Southern California for the national college football championship in January? I admit it was fun to watch USC quarterback Matt Leinart sit there with a dazed look on his face and watch money fly out the window as he dropped from a "sure" top-four pick to No. 10. But mostly what was good about the pro football draft was that it reminded me of the purity of pro golf. Or what used to be its purity.
In football, as in the other team sports, money is parceled out on a promise. Owners pay for potential and hope the player performs. But that's not the case in professional golf. Players have to perform to get paid. Didn't make the cut? Don't get a check. That's the way it is for everyone on the PGA Tour -- well, except for Tiger Woods, Phil Mickelson, Vijay Singh, Ernie Els, Retief Goosen, Sergio Garcia ... even Rich Beem, for goodness sakes. Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't it feel as though PGA Tour players are about five minutes away from becoming NFL players? Or worse, major league baseball players?
One of the things that helped drive the popularity of pro golf among sports fans in the 1990s was dissatisfaction among fans with the long-term guaranteed contracts in the team sports. Many people resented the rising price of taking a family to a baseball, football or basketball game -- especially when they saw a lack of effort from the superstar athletes during those contests. But hasn't endorsement money become so great in golf that performance on the course has become less of a factor in determining a player's financial portfolio?
Truly, none of this really matters for the top players. Woods, Mickelson, Singh, Els, Goosen and Garcia don't play for the money as much as they play for a place in history and the major titles. (Sergio is doing better in the money than the major titles and history thing, but you get my point.) You do have to wonder, however, if the Charles Howell IIIs and Chris DiMarcos of the world lose a bit of motivation because the off-course money makes on-course mediocrity a lot less painful than it used to be. How many of you fans yearn for the days when Ben Hogan walked logo-free down the fairway?
The expression on Leinart's face as he slipped down the draft board was a lot like the look on a player's face when he is making bogey after bogey down the stretch and his paycheck is losing zeroes at an alarming rate. The difference is that in golf, it is the feeling of failure at those times that stings more than the mere loss of income. That pain has more to do with pride, and few great champions will ever put their pride for sale -- although Pete Rose might wager on it.
Big-time endorsement deals are not going to go away, just as wound balls, persimmon woods and typewriters are not going to make a comeback. Controlling progress -- whether it is progressive or not -- is like trying to eat soup with a fork. You can get in the middle of it, but you can't really get a handle on it. It slips right past you.
Ultimately, Leinart was probably sad not for reasons of cash, but because of wounded pride. And that will ultimately be our savior as well. For Woods today -- just as it was Bobby Jones, Hogan and Jack Nicklaus -- it is never about the money. It is always about doing your best. And you can never put a price tag on that.
Ron Sirak is the executive editor of Golf World magazine.