Teeing Off: Your Cheatin' Heart
Clinton's approach to golf should've tipped us off that something
was amiss
by Robert Sullivan
Posted: Wed August 26, 1998
Not to be smug, but when I first heard about Monica Lewinsky, I
thought, Sure, absolutely, no question. Claiming that something
doesn't count because of a technicality—a Biblical technicality,
no less—is precisely the type of wacky distinction our Mr.
Clinton would make. I said to myself, It's just like with the
mulligans.
As have many of us, I've watched the President's golf game for
six years now, and while I've seen his swing improve
admirably—particularly the follow-through, which is now high and
strong—I've noticed that the guy has been resolutely unable to
conquer his seemingly pathological addiction to mulligans. What
does it say about a fellow that he just can't help but shave
strokes, even when the whole world is watching?
I was thinking—and worrying—about the mulligan problem even
before Ms. Lewinsky arrived onstage. Last January the President
appeared on Meet the Press. The program's host, Tim Russert,
steered the interview along the curvy roads of domestic policy
and foreign affairs. Then he started tossing softballs. He asked
questions about Martha's Vineyard, about Chelsea and, finally,
about golf.
"I've gotten better since being President," Mr. Clinton said,
unaware that this is a disquieting thought. "It's mostly because
I've gotten to play with better golfers." I was hoping Russert
would follow up with a question about the President's good friend
Greg Norman—what did happen at the Shark's house the night
Clinton slipped and blew out his knee?—but Russert asked about
the President's handicap instead. "Twelve, 13, something like
that," said Clinton.
With any mulligans? Russert asked. The President's eyes went
steely, as they do. He took one of those pauses, as he does.
"One, now," he finally said. I believed that like I believe pigs
fly.
In trying to figure out the President's handicap for their 1996
book, Presidential Lies: The Illustrated History of White House
Golf, Shepherd Campbell and Peter Landau wrote, "The answer is
clouded by the matter of mulligans, which he uses freely...
Clinton admits to one mulligan per round. But others put the
number higher. It is said, for instance, that with friends in
Little Rock the standard arrangement was one extra tee shot and
two extra fairway shots per nine holes." In other words, Webster
Hubbell golf.
Do I think the President is still shaving six per round? I've
tried to come to a conclusion by following the reporting of CBS
News's Mark Knoller. Knoller says, for instance, that during Mr.
Clinton's 17-day vacation in Jackson Hole, Wyo., in 1995, the
President spent 55 hours and 36 minutes playing 206 holes of
golf, scoring an average of 85.1, while last summer on Martha's
Vineyard he spent 48 hours, 31 minutes, playing 180 holes in an
average of 82.7 strokes. From Knoller's stats I learned this
about the presidential game: Mr. Clinton's foursome proceeds at a
pace of five hours per round, a figure that would horrify his
predecessor, George Bush.
There are some things about Clinton's game, though, that not even
Knoller knows. The first time the President reported breaking 80,
Knoller told SPORTS ILLUSTRATED that there was "no one there to
see it" because "the press doesn't have access to most of the
holes he plays." Knoller admitted that "a lot of times I have to
take him at his word" and said rather sadly that Clinton's
alleged 79 last summer at Martha's Vineyard "was immediately cast
into doubt because we saw him take three tee shots on the 1st
hole."
So, yes, there is something serious to be said about Mr.
Clinton's mulligans—something about duplicity, chronic
self-delusion, an incapacity for truth-telling. Also, as directly
relates to the Lewinsky affair, there's something serious to be
said about calling an act something other than what it truly is,
so that it vanishes and doesn't count.
Mr. President, a golf shot is not a mulligan, it's a golf shot.
Count it. Count 'em all. And an assignation with a young woman
wherein things transpire that might upset the wife, count that
too.
What does it say about a fellow that he just can't help but
shave strokes?
Robert Sullivan, a 20 handicapper, is an assistant managing
editor at LIFE magazine.
Issue date: August 31, 1998
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