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Sidelines
Kalani Simpson
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Kim's caddie made huge difference
A TALE of two caddies.
First, there is the story of Michelle Wie having fired her caddie, Greg Johnston, second-hand and at the airport (at least he didn't get the news while picking up the white courtesy phone). I haven't dwelled on this much for two reasons:
1) With everything we've seen, heard, read, this may have come as a mild surprise as far as timing goes, but let's face it, it isn't exactly a shock.
"I was shocked and surprised," Johnston told golfdigest.com. (Well, there you go. So much for his ability to read the greens.)
2) With everything we've seen, heard, read, it seems that it doesn't really matter who Michelle Wie's caddie is. She's made it perfectly clear that she's going to do her own thinking out there, read her own greens, make her own decisions. She's a big girl and she's going to do what she wants to do. So there.
Now, golf rules, dehydration, avoiding penalty strokes are all the caddie's kuleana. That's true. And this guy has had a lot of stuff happen on his watch.
But here is Michelle's comment on the rule book: "It's not exactly great reading material." And there are several published reports that say her caddie had warned her before that 2-stroke penalty at the British Open.
So it really doesn't matter who Michelle Wie's caddie is. Does it? He's just carrying the bag.
But contrast that with Big Island girl Kimberly Kim, who just became the youngest winner in the history of the U.S. Women's Amateur.
A huge tournament. One of the great tournaments. A monumental win.
And on the course, after she'd sunk the putt that won it (and almost collapsed from the emotion of it all), she gave a TV interview. You saw it. You felt it. Her words were half sobs, this win meant so much.
And she thanked her caddie.
They'd won it together. They'd done this as a team.
Did she listen to him? Better than that. She trusted him.
He got in her face. He challenged her. He calmed her down. They shared a bond.
On that final day, "She and her caddie would often sit on the fairway while waiting for her shot, taking breaks from temperatures in the low-90s," the Associated Press story read.
They were in this together. Partners.
He picked berries off a bush as they walked the course, gave them to her. He called them "go-straight berries."
She was down in the quarterfinals, Friday. She was looking at elimination, it was dire. But then she mounted a comeback.
"I felt like so bad," she told reporters, according to USGA notes. "And then my caddie just basically fought with me to make me like start playing well again."
It was miraculous.
"So something made you decide to start trying?" she was asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Was it strictly your caddie?" she was asked.
"Pretty much," she said.
She was into the semis, then the final. And in the final Sunday she found herself 5 down. Again, it looked bad.
Again, her caddie leaned in, looked in her eyes. It was time to get it done.
"We're going to play smashmouth golf."
They did. She won.
Did she listen to him? Better than that. She trusted him.
She thanked him: "My caddie." You heard her. You saw it. You felt it.
This is what a caddie can do.
So who is this genius? Has he worked with Tiger? Does he have a pedigree? Has he won majors on the bag?
His name is Frank Nau.
Wait. Who?
"It's like Frank," Kimberly said, "and Nau."
He's 20. He's from Portland, Ore. He's a regular caddie at the North Ridge, Ore., Pumpkin Ridge course, where the U.S. Women's Amateur was played. She just picked him up for the tournament. She'd never met him before.
No word yet on if his phone is ringing off the hook. Maybe it should be.
Until then, this is just what he's doing for the summer while on his break as a student at Oregon State.
They were each lucky to find the other.
They trusted each other. They won together. They were a team.
A tale of two caddies.
Maybe Michelle Wie can learn a little something from Kimberly Kim.
And maybe Greg Johnston can learn a lot from Frank Nau.