Play For Pay? Putting Great Didn’t Hesitate
When to turn pro is a momentous decision all great amateur athletes eventually must make.
As the last second on the Rose Bowl clock trickles away on New Year’s Day, attention will focus on Washington State’s darling, junior quarterback Ryan Leaf. Will he stay a Coug or play for pay?
If Leaf has the good sense God gave Spokane’s Arne Belsby, he will raise his eyes to the heavens and holler the Jerry McGuire war cry.
“Show me the money!”
Putting ace Belsby turned pro the other day, although it didn’t make the sports pages. Sadly, the reward for this 58-year-old buffalo rancher was somewhat less than a haul.
While a professional career to Leaf is worth the annual gross income of, say, Belgium, Belsby cashed in his short-lived amateur status for $2,360.
It happened at the World Putting Championships in Orlando, Fla. The lanky Belsby, who is a fair golfer on the local duffer level, finished this pro-packed putt-fest in an incredible 22nd place.
That made Belsby the No. 1 Senior Amateur.
Tournament officials descended on him like seagulls scavenging fallen french fries at Dick’s Drive-in. They wanted to present him with a big trophy during an ESPN-televised ceremony.
Think of the glory, they told him. Belsby had earned a place in history. All he had to do was to keep his amateur status, which meant turning down the prize money for 22nd place.
Belsby scratched his thick, wavy, graying hair. He’s a tall man with rugged good looks that remind you of James Arness on the old TV western “Gunsmoke.”
“Er, how much is that trophy worth?” he asked.
About a hundred bucks, the startled officials told him.
The pragmatic Belsby spoke again: “And how much do I get if I take the money?”
The officials gave him the $2,360 figure.
Belsby grinned. You can’t feed hungry buffalo with a trophy.
Oh, sure, I know what you’re thinking. A guy wins a few bucks in a putting contest. Big deal.
Well kiss my Titleist! Let me put Belsby’s accomplishment in terms even you nongolfers will understand:
Belsby beat scores of PGA touring pros including former U.S. Open winner Lee Janzen. Only four amateurs were among the 48 who made the final cut of this $500,000 nationally televised event. Three of those four amateurs were young, near-pros like Steve Scott, who nearly kicked Tiger Woods’ fanny in the last U.S. Amateur Championship.
And there was ol’ Belsby, who raises 200 head of bison with his brothers on a ranch outside Cheney. He was the only real amateur in the purest sense of the term.
Was he intimidated by all these hotshots?
“I can’t wait to go back next year,” Belsby says brashly. “I can win this.”
Golf is one of the planet’s most agonizingly difficult games. And as nasty as it is, the old axiom - “drive for show, putt for dough” - is no joke.
Lots of hackers can blast a golf ball a mile. Precious few can read a green. But Belsby wields his outdated Taylor Made mallet the way David Copperfield waves a wand.
To the gasps and applause of onlookers, the ever-cool Belsby drained a wavy 30-foot downhill shot from well off the green to finish the championship.
And here’s the weirdest part of all: Belsby doesn’t have a clue why he’s so good. He never played golf until his early 40s. From the moment he began, he discovered he had an extrasensory feel for putting.
Last summer, Belsby heard about the Compaq World Putting Championships and easily won two tournaments to qualify.
“To me, putting is just real simple,” says Belsby, adding that he doesn’t even practice very often. “I’ve always been able to see a line from the ball to the hole. I just understand it. If I could get the rest of my game together, I’d be a pro.”
Too late, Arne, you already are.
, DataTimes