At Trump Plaza with Pete Bevacqua and Donald Trump announcing the 2017 Senior PGA and 2022 PGA Championship. We felt that Mr. Trump would make sure that the PGA had “the greatest championships ever.” I hope he gets the chance.
© Ted Bishop
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For further information, contact Classics of Golf, 120 Research Drive, Stratford, CT 06615
CLASSICS OF GOLF is a registered trademark.
Cover and interior design by Sally Bancroft, Bancroft Graphics Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available
ISBN 978-0-940889-71-2
ISBN 978-0-940889-72-2 (ebook)
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my wife Cindy who has been with me every step of the way for 40 years. She has never wavered in her support and love for me. It is also dedicated to my daughters Ashely and Ambry, who are both good golfers, but even better people. And to Tom Watson whose friendship means more to me than anything I ever accomplished in golf.
—Ted Bishop
Contents
Introduction
1 Impeached
2 Haste and Hatred Ruled
3 An Unlikely Rise to the Top
4 Rebuilding a Relationship with Arnold Palmer
5 Anchors Away
6 Power Brokers
7 Stuck in the Mud at Wales
8 Stop! In the Name of Love
9 A Brilliant Choice
10 Victory Has a Thousand Fathers But Defeat is an Orphan
11 Lefty Leads a Task Force
12 A Less Than Stellar Past
13 I’m Offended that You’re Offended
Acknowledgements
Appendix A
Appendix B
Introduction
For 23 months, I had the privilege to serve as the 38th president of the PGA of America, the largest working sports organization in the world today. It was the most exciting time of my life. The PGA of America owns the PGA Championship and the American share of the Ryder Cup, two of golf ’s most prized properties. On October 24, 2014, I was impeached as president for what some considered to be “insensitive gender-based” remarks. Unfriended is a chance for me to tell my side of the story and share my journey through golf.
Why are you writing this book? Are you doing it for the money? What are your motives? Are you angry? These were common questions that I was asked when Unfriended–Power Brokers, Political Correctness and Hypocrisy in Golf became a reality.
With this book, I was seeking self-validation and the opportunity to tell my side of the story surrounding my impeachment as the 38th President of the PGA of America. The first couple of chapters of Unfriended will explore the historic events behind my impeachment. But, the bulk of the book is about my journey through golf.
I had given 25 years of service to the PGA of America. It all culminated with my presidency in 2013-14. I took great pride in being a pro-active president who focused on what was good for the 28,000 men and women of the PGA. During my presidency, we were able to raise the profile and stature of PGA members. Just as important, I also wanted to have a positive impact on the game of golf.
I felt many emotions after my impeachment. Embarrassment, despair, rejection, betrayal, anger and depression would best describe my mental state in the weeks that followed my unceremonious fall from grace in golf. It was an extremely tough time for my family and me.
In December 2014, almost two months after my impeachment, things started to turn for the better. I was approached by Greg Fisher, a friend from high school. He and the Horizon Planning Group in Indianapolis wanted to plan a dinner and golf tournament to honor my accomplishments as PGA president.
Fisher’s group created “The Mulligan Open–A charity event creating second chances.” It certainly defined where I was at that point in my life. What made The Mulligan Open so very special was that Tom Watson; eight-time major champion; Tim Finchem, Commissioner of the PGA TOUR and Steve Stricker, PGA TOUR star all showed up on my behalf. Alex Miceli, publisher of GolfWeek, emceed a dinner and fireside chat with my three friends and me. Over 200 of my members and closest friends were in attendance. We raised nearly $50,000 for various charities.
When Tom, Tim and Steve, three of the most respected people in golf, came to Franklin, Indiana in my honor it spoke volumes. All of these guys had privately reached out to me in the aftermath of the impeachment. Not only did they offer me their encouragement and support, but they made it public when they showed up in Franklin on that Tuesday night in August 2015.
In Tom Watson’s case, it didn’t stop there. He was notified about a month after The Mulligan Open that he had been selected as an inductee into the PGA of America’s Hall of Fame. Watson issued the following statement.
“While I was flattered by PGA President [Derek] Sprague’s honoring me to be inducted into the PGA Hall of Fame, I couldn’t accept in good conscience because of how the PGA mishandled the firing of my friend and immediate past president of the PGA, Ted Bishop.”
In my lifetime, this is probably the greatest display of friendship that anyone has ever showed me. If you know Tom Watson, you know that he is a man of great principle. He once resigned his membership at the Kansas City Country Club when he felt the club was discriminating against Jews. Watson’s absence from the PGA of America’s Hall of Fame leaves a tremendous void.
I have learned a lot about myself and others throughout this tumultuous time in my life. Friendship is everything. However, it can sometimes be fickle. Power and personal agendas can trump relationships. Your closest friends could become your fiercest enemies and you are usually the last to know.
Would I change some things on my end? Absolutely. Who wouldn’t want a few mulligans in the game of life? Unfriended is my mulligan.
In the days, weeks and months that followed my unceremonious removal as president of the PGA of America, readers of this book should know I was frequently targeted by the PGA of America. Obviously, there were former colleagues within the hierarchy of the PGA of America who were uncomfortable my perspective on events. They had good reason to be uncomfortable, as you will read in the following pages.
I decided to continue publishing this account while knowing full well that I would lose some friends. So be it. I also believe there are stories surrounding my golf career and my time with the PGA of America that readers will find compelling and instructive. There is no way that I can adequately express my thanks to Mike Beckerich at Classics of Golf publishing. When Mike read the manuscript he believed my story needed to be told. I am forever grateful for his confidence in me and my book.
How my term was preempted came about because of my own short-sightedness, followed by what I believe to be a dreadful mistreatment of me by the PGA. I reacted on Facebook and Twitter to some comments Ian Poulter, an English touring professional, made in his book Off Limits about Tom Watson, eighttime major champion, and Nick Faldo, a winner of six of golf ’s major championships. The fallout from my reaction was summed up best by writer Geoff Shackelford as part of Golf World’s “2014 Newsmakers of the Year.”
“Ted Bishop made a ‘lil’ mistake. For that, the controversial PGA of America president lost his job less than a month before his term was to end and he was to become a ceremonial-but-respected figure for having raised the association’s profile. When responding to Ian Poulter on Twitter and Facebook, Bishop’s ‘lil girl’ reference was seen as a demeaning remark for the head of a group with a less-than-stellar record on progressive matters. Others, though, saw the comment as a silly mistake that the PGA board overreacted to by hastily forcing Bishop out and sullying a body of work that included more energy and previous action than seen from previous PGA presidents.
“During Bishop’s tenure the organization shrewdly appointed Pete Bevacqua as CEO and picked Tom Watson as Ryder Cup captain (widely praised at the time). Bishop grew close to PGA Tour commissioner Tim Finchem, fostering a new and important relationship between the two organizations. Most indelibly, Bishop endorsed his organization’s long-overdue awarding of its major events to public facilities, specifically Harding Park and Bethpage Black.
“Though Bishop’s mistake added one more social media casualty to a growing list who’ve erred, his legacy putting the association in better position to influence the game appears destined to grow in stature with the PGA’s 28,000 members.”
The title for this book, Unfriended, seemed to be a fitting way to describe what the leadership of the PGA of America did to me during and after my removal as its 38th president. In the minutes, hours, days and weeks after my comments on social media I was unfriended by the PGA of America in the greatest controversy surrounding political correctness in the history of golf. This book is a chance for me to finally tell my side of the story and share how the events of my unprecedented impeachment unfolded.
However, if this book was just about my removal, it would be seen as simply self-serving. This is a chance for me to give you an up-close perspective of golf greats such as Tom Watson, Arnold Palmer, Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson. You will get never-before-told stories of the Ryder Cup. You will also get a unique perspective on the power brokers in golf—and some people you probably have never heard of but who represent the very core of the game.
Many get the PGA of America confused with the PGA Tour. The simplest way to differentiate them is this: The PGA TOUR is made up of professional golfers who play tournament golf for a living, while the PGA of America is comprised of professionals who teach and promote golf. However, PGA TOUR players are also members of the PGA of America.
In my six years as an officer with the PGA of America, I was involved in virtually everything that happened in golf. I became embroiled in the controversial ban on the anchored stroke, used by a few professionals but more notably by thousands of recreational golfers who had reached the end of their patience with putting. This decision created friction between the PGA of America, the United States Golf Association and the Royal and Ancient, golf ’s largest and oldest governing body. I served two years on the PGA TOUR Policy Board and on six occasions served as a rules official at the Masters Tournament.
It was my privilege to present the Wanamaker Trophy to Jason Dufner at Oak Hill Country Club and Rory McIlroy at Valhalla Golf Club when they won the PGA Championship in 2013 and 2014, respectively. At the Senior PGA Championship, I handed the Bourne Trophy to a couple unique first-time major champions in Khoki Idoki (the first Japanese-born player to win a major, at Bellerive Country Club) and Great Britain’s Colin Montgomerie (finally a major champion, at Harbor Shores Golf Club). I announced a Ryder Cup captain on the set of NBC’s Today Show. My perspectives on golf have been influenced greatly by a wide array of experiences.
With the advent of Golf Channel, Sirius/XM Radio and social media, my reputation and status in the golf world grew faster than I would have expected. Because of my communications background, I enjoyed these opportunities and performed them with relative ease. While the work I was doing probably elevated my personal profile, most importantly it was enhancing the status of the 28,000 men and women of the PGA.
Sports Illustrated, Golfweek, Golf World and Golf Channel all were kind enough to do profile stories on me during my term as president of the PGA of America. The consistent theme from the media revolved around the positive impact the PGA of America was having on its members and golf in general. This exposure came with a price, however. I truly believe it created jealousy toward me from individuals within the PGA hierarchy who saw the stature of a PGA president elevated like never before.
I was a volunteer for the PGA of America for 25 years and was never paid for the time I dedicated to my Association. In my six years as a PGA officer I traveled more than 770 days—not to mention the hours I devoted to PGA business when I was at home. My expenses were covered, but the time away from my family and business was a huge sacrifice that I made for the PGA. I was happy to do it, and very honored, too, but it was also a sacrifice.
When I made my gaffe on social media, my hope was that the PGA of America would use its vast resources to help me through the incident. In return I would have welcomed the opportunity to become a spokesperson for diversity and inclusion—two cornerstones of my golf career. However, the PGA of America took a strange and twisted approach from a public relations standpoint in the hours that followed my social media mishap. That in itself makes Unfriended a case study for communications, public relations and political correctness.
After suffering through the embarrassment of my impeachment as the 38th President of the PGA of America, I was standing at the fork in the most important road of my life. Unfriended became my platform to help me face the rest of my life. I chose to tell my life story, which happens to overlap with some of the most significant events the sport of golf has seen in recent memory.
As I said, Unfriended is my mulligan.
Chapter One
Impeached
I was awakened on Saturday morning, October 25, 2014, by a train whistle. It was haunting. I felt like that train was pulling away without me. It was a hollow feeling and one I will never forget. Reality was starting to set in. I had been impeached as the 38th president of the PGA of America fewer than 12 hours earlier.
Lying in bed, I couldn’t help but wonder how history would judge me. This certainly would go down as one of the most unceremonious falls in the history of golf. In a matter of hours I had crashed from being one of the most powerful people in the sport to a social media casualty who had fallen prey to political correctness.
Until that moment, I had actually slept well on that Friday night. There was a sense of peace, and I think it stemmed from what had been accomplished in my 23 months as president of the PGA. We fought for the common golfer when we battled the anchoring ban. I still had great pride in naming Tom Watson as a Ryder Cup captain. The PGA took championship events to public courses like Bethpage State Park in New York and Harding Park in San Francisco. We formed a great new relationship with the PGA Tour and Tim Finchem, its longtime commissioner.
Most importantly for PGA members, we found ways to filter millions of dollars from TV rights and business development agreements back to our 41 PGA sections, the PGA’s geographical divisions. This change would benefit our members like never before. For the first time in a long time, PGA members felt good about their Association, and I felt like I had played a role in evoking that positive feeling. Many in golf were saying the profile of the PGA of America had been raised to an unprecedented level during my two years as president.
And now, it was all over.
As I rolled out of bed, I noticed an overnight text on my phone from Dottie Pepper, PGA independent director and former LPGA Tour star.
“I owe you an apology. I should never have abstained. I needed to be stronger and vote “NO” to your impeachment. More than I felt yesterday, this was unequivocally wrong. Haste and hatred ruled, not common sense. I am so sorry not to have done a better job. While I voiced my opinion after you left the call, I should have finished my job.”
The furor I inadvertently caused was over remarks I had made about Ian Poulter on Twitter and Facebook late Thursday afternoon. Normally, I would start every morning and end every evening by reading Geoff Shackelford’s blog, a great clearing house for any news pertinent to golf. I hadn’t checked out Shackelford all week because I was at The Greenbrier Resort in West Virginia helping Nick Faldo, former Masters and British Open champ, with his international junior series.
Around 5:30 p.m. Thursday, I read Shackelford’s blog on my phone. What struck me most were the snide remarks Poulter had made about Faldo and Tom Watson in his book No Limits, which had been released earlier that day.
Faldo had stirred up the European Ryder Cup team during a late-summer Golf Channel interview when he said Sergio Garcia was useless during the 2008 European loss at Valhalla and that he had “a bad attitude.” Faldo later explained in an interview with The Associated Press that Garcia had emotional and physical problems and at one point told Faldo he didn’t want to play.
“Faldo has lost a lot of respect from players because of what he said,” Poulter revealed in his book. He noted it was Europe’s only loss in the last 15 years, and Faldo was the captain. “So who’s useless? I think Faldo might need to take a little look in the mirror.”
Poulter, who was one of Faldo’s captain’s picks in 2008, then went on to hammer Watson. “Tom Watson’s decision making (at Gleneagles) completely baffles me. It gave us a boost. I find it utterly bizarre.”
Certainly, Poulter has been a stalwart in Ryder Cup play. He is the heart and soul of the modern-day European teams. And he is entitled to his opinion. But on that night, less than a month after Watson had been publicly annihilated by Phil Mickelson’s criticism in the postmortem of the losers’ press conference at Gleneagles, Poulter’s remarks really got under my skin. Mickelson had pointed the finger at Watson, blaming him for the U.S. loss because the captain had not consulted players on decisions surrounding the pairings in team competition.
I felt Poulter had no business criticizing Watson. Why would a European player comment on the American captain? It was Poulter being Poulter, and I probably should have just let it pass, but I expected him to show some respect to Watson, who had won eight majors and compiled a 10-4-1 Ryder Cup record as a player. Tom, like me, was a volunteer for the PGA of America. My first reaction to Poulter’s remarks was to defend one of my own PGA members from the senseless attack by a member of the opposing Ryder Cup team.
And in the case of Nick Faldo? Stack up the records of these two Englishmen. Faldo has six major championships and is the all-time European Ryder Cup points leader. Poulter’s resume, without a sniff of a major title, pales in comparison. I thought Poulter’s remarks were degrading to both Faldo and Watson.
So without any reservations, I sent out two social media posts directed at Poulter. The first appeared on my Twitter account.
@IanJamesPoulter—Faldo’s record stands by itself. Six majors and all-time RC points. Yours vs. His? Lil Girl. @NickFaldo006 @pgaofamerica
Restricted by the character limit of Twitter, I then expanded on Facebook.
“Used to be athletes who had lesser records or accomplishments in a sport never criticized the icons. Tom Watson (8 majors and a 10–4–1 Ryder Cup record) and Nick Faldo (6 majors and all-time Ryder Cup points leader) get bashed by Ian James Poulter. Really? Sounds like a little school girl squealing during recess. C’MON MAN!”
In retrospect, I certainly should have used a better choice of words to describe my frustration with Poulter. Some have said that a leader of a major golf organization should not have said anything. Everyone is entitled to his or her opinion, but I felt compelled to defend our Ryder Cup captain and my friend Faldo.
The ire around Watson’s captaincy was intriguing. When we were at Gleneagles on the Tuesday before the matches started, I was approached by PGA Chief Executive Officer Pete Bevacqua, who asked: “If we win this thing, why would we not ask Tom to come back and do it again? He has done an amazing job.”
Watson had done just that. Never before had the PGA of America asked more from a Ryder Cup captain when it came to media involvement. Tom never complained and did everything he was asked by the PGA. He committed more hours to the job than any captain ever had. Let’s face it: Mickelson’s critical comments directed at Watson on Sunday night at Gleneagles shifted all of the blame to Watson. And Phil was still torqued from being benched by Watson during Saturday’s competition.
What got lost in the Scottish darkness was the 35-stroke loss the U.S. team suffered over the three days to a European team that was clearly more talented.
My relationship with Faldo had grown at The Greenbrier. One night at dinner I sat with Faldo and engaged him in a conversation about the Ryder Cup. It was still a timely topic, given that only a month had passed since the Euros had beaten the Americans at Gleneagles. Faldo talked about foursome play and his partners.
“I think way too much is made of this. Many times it would be over lunch—maybe 30 minutes before my afternoon tee time—that I would find out who my partner was,” Faldo recalled. “We may not have ever played a practice round together, and certainly we never worried about what ball we were going to play. It was the Ryder Cup. You just played.”
It was an old-school philosophy, and Faldo’s mindset was similar to that of Tom Watson’s. I couldn’t help but ask myself: When did this old-school mindset change? Faldo and Watson had gone from being two of the greatest players of our era to the two most criticized Ryder Cup captains ever.
For me, Thursday, October 23, started like every other day that week at The Greenbrier. I got out of bed well before daylight and waited on the restaurant to open. I had a light breakfast and downed a few cups of coffee. I walked in the darkness to the building that housed the golf shop and waited as the kids arrived in small groups. Matthew Faldo, Nick’s son, was always there to greet the kids and help them get organized for the day. This event was the only American version of the Faldo Series, which featured competition during the day and life skills lessons at night. Multiple major champions Rory McIlroy and Padraig Harrington are Faldo Series alums.
The Greenbrier had given me Stuart Appleby’s champion’s locker to use for the week. It was here where he shot a final-round 59 to defeat my fellow Hoosier Jeff Overton at The Greenbrier Classic in 2010. Every day when I entered the locker room, I passed a large display case commemorating the career of Tom Watson, who had succeeded Sam Snead as the pro emeritus at The Greenbrier. Ironically, I had also spent two weeks with Snead back in the 1980s when I ran a corporate pro-am in Scottsdale, Arizona. Lots of history was captured at The Greenbrier, and I felt linked to much of it.
On this particular day I would join Nick for an early-morning segment with Gary Williams on Golf Channel’s “Morning Drive.” Faldo and I huddled in the chilly darkness amid spotlights from the mobile TV truck that had been brought onsite for the interview. We had a sketchy signal, and it was tough to pick up some of Williams’ questions.
Several times Gary asked me questions about the week with Faldo. Nick jumped in and answered the questions for me. It was funny, and I joked with Faldo afterward that he had more interceptions during that short interview than most of the NFL’s defensive backs had for the season.
All week, I had been struck by Faldo’s genuine passion for what he was doing with his series and the impact it had on the kids, especially those from overseas. Three teenaged sisters from Bulgaria who had driven a car across several European countries in the middle of the night to try and qualify for this trip to the U.S. were at The Greenbrier. So was a boy from India who lived with eight siblings in a one-room house and had learned to play golf through the Faldo Series. Nick’s people embraced the boy and brought him to America.
I was at the Faldo Series because for more than a year, he and his girlfriend, LeslieAnne Wade, had pressed the PGA to get involved with the series. Nick was subsidizing the entire effort out of his pocket and was looking for financial help from the PGA.
The week presented a different side of Nick Faldo. Like most people’s, my opinion of the six-time major champion was based on what I had seen on TV—Faldo, the great player, or Faldo, CBS announcer. Yet in person, Faldo was anything but the introverted, aloof guy most identified him as. Throughout the week, he was sincere and sensitive. Nick spent hours doing hands-on golf instruction, trying to make the kids better players. He was genuine and engaged with every single kid. He knew them by their first names, and the kids, in turn, idolized Nick.
On Thursday afternoon, he and I instructed a group of kids who had been brought to The Greenbrier from area high schools—Faldo’s way of incorporating a local component into the week while the kids at the Faldo Series were on the course competing.
It was our final day at The Greenbrier. My wife Cindy and I were to attend a reception that evening at Faldo’s house before dinner. As we waited for a ride to take us to Nick’s new house, which was atop a mountain overlooking The Greenbrier, I pulled out my phone and checked some emails. That’s when I sent my fate-sealing social media posts.
We headed to Nick’s home for the reception, where about a dozen people had gathered, including Faldo’s longtime caddie, Fanny Sunesson. Also in attendance was a local priest, invited by LeslieAnne to officially bless the new house.
As Cindy and I enjoyed the view from Nick’s deck, LeslieAnne approached us and said, “Nick is on the floor of the bedroom laughing his ass off at what you said about Poulter.”
I told her that I was fed up with modern-day players showing the game’s icons a lack of respect. Word about my social media posts gradually spread among the guests at Nick’s house. Everyone seemed to be getting some humorous satisfaction with the fact that I had called out Poulter. At that point, my comments still seemed pretty harmless to me.
About 7:30 p.m., we headed to The Greenbrier to have dinner with the kids in the program. I decided to check my phone for any messages before I headed into “the bunker,” where we ate each night. That is when I noticed some activity on my Twitter account. I remember seeing two tweets that suggested my “lil girl” remarks were sexist. That was never my intent, of course. In fact, I never even gave that inference a thought.
One of the tweets I noticed was from Keith Hirschland, formerly with Golf Channel, who sarcastically said something to the effect that “surely his account must have been hacked.” It was clear I had a problem on my hands. I immediately removed both posts from Twitter and Facebook.
As I was walking into “the bunker,” my phone rang, and it was Julius Mason, senior director of communications for the PGA of America. He was in a pretty jovial mood and said, “So, you and Poulter are just having a good back and forth?”
I responded, “That’s what my intentions were, but based on what I am seeing on Twitter, it doesn’t appear other people are taking it that way. I think we could have a problem.”
Mason told me to relax and said the PGA would be sending me a statement for approval. He informed me that Golf Channel wanted to interview me on “Morning Drive,” but he was advising against that. Mason said, “Let us come out with a statement, and this will go away in 24 hours.”
Julius and I had a great working relationship. I trusted him completely. I entered the dining room and sat down with LeslieAnne and Nick. I told them Mason had called and explained what he said. I also said I was disturbed by what some people were saying on Twitter about me being “a sexist.”
“You know you are going to have to apologize,” said Wade, who had been a senior vice president of communications for CBS Sports. “It’s not a big deal. You will just need to say you used a wrong choice of words. Emphasize how important you think women are to golf, just like you did last night with the kids. Julius is good, and it sounds like he has the situation under control.”
Ironically, less than 24 hours before I had addressed the Faldo Series participants and told the girls about the great opportunities golf presented to them. I encouraged the girls who couldn’t play at the next level to seek out other avenues in golfclub professionals, instructors or administrators.
Cindy and I retired to our room about 8:30 p.m. I was still checking my phone to gauge the reaction to my remarks, and it was mixed. A few were calling me sexist, but most were actually lauding me for taking on Poulter.
I received a text from my daughter Ambry, who coaches the women’s golf team at St. John’s University in New York. She was at a New Jersey Golf Foundation Awards dinner. While she was at the dinner her women’s team had sent her a text saying, “It was awesome your dad called out Poulter.”
At 8:45 p.m., I received an email from Julius saying, “Ted…this is how I will respond to those inquiring about your tweet: ‘Ted realized that his post was inappropriate and promptly removed it.’ End of story. Cool with You?” PGA of America CEO Pete Bevacqua was copied on the email.
I read that to Cindy and I said, “This is what the PGA came up with. I’m kind of surprised that it’s not a direct quote from me and that it doesn’t contain some kind of apology.”
“Julius told you it wasn’t a big deal,” she replied. “It must not be.”
At that point I called Julius at 9:06 p.m. and asked him if he thought the statement was strong enough. He assured me this was not a big deal and instructed me to do no interviews—especially with Golf Channel.
At 9:18 p.m. I received my first correspondence from Bevacqua in the form of an email, “Talked to Julius. Know he’s reached out. I agree with his plan. Sounds like you do as well. I’m at an FBI dinner of all things. Around at any point if you need me.”
At 9:27 p.m. Mason emailed me, “Please make sure that they have been removed from your Facebook and Twitter.”
I responded, “I did but I can’t stop the Tweets that took place before.”
Then I checked my emails for the first time in several hours. I saw one from Doug Ferguson, the golf writer for the Associated Press, that was sent at 6:11 p.m. “I have to ask…what was the intended tone of that tweet calling Poulter a ‘lil girl?’ Because this could become a story coming from the president of the PGA of America.”
I felt compelled to at least respond to Ferguson’s email and did not see that response as violating Mason’s request to refrain from any interviews. “Doug—Obviously I could have selected some different ways to express my thoughts on Poulter’s remarks. Golf had always been a sport where respect was shown to its icons. That seems to have gone by the wayside…”
I thought my response to Ferguson was consistent with the tone of the PGA’s statement. The PGA would later say that I disobeyed their orders not to do any interviews. I never viewed this brief email answer to Ferguson as an interview. That is why I didn’t call Doug; I did not want an actual conversation to be quoted and viewed as an interview.
A few minutes later, I forwarded the PGA’s statement to Wade.
At 10:09 p.m. Mason emailed me, “Just a reminder…please don’t accept any media interviews on this topic. I am saying no to Golf Channel who wants to have you on tomorrow. If they come directly to you, PLEASE say no. They have our statement.”
Bevacqua followed up at 10:15 p.m. “Agree. We need to say no, Ted. I believe that is critical.”
To which I responded, “No one has asked me.”
We turned the lights off and went to bed about 10:45 p.m. Although it was a restless night, at this point I had no idea how catastrophic the situation was going to be for me personally. My phone was nearby on a table. I could hear the buzzing from Twitter activity throughout most of the night.
The next morning I got up about 6:30 a.m. I didn’t have a good feeling about the day. I took a quick shower, tried to collect my thoughts and told Cindy I was going down to grab a quick breakfast and that I would bring her back something to eat. The jet Faldo had arranged for our travel was supposed to leave about 9:30 a.m. from Lewisburg, West Virginia.
At 7:16 a.m. I received a text from Dottie Pepper: “Word of advice from a friend who has been through this before. Get out with an apology and personal reach out as soon as you can. It sucks but you are stronger than this.”
Pepper was referring to some remarks she had made on NBC while broadcasting the 2007 Solheim Cup, the LPGA’s version of the Ryder Cup. After watching the Americans continually miss crucial putts, she called them “choking freaking dogs,” thinking she was off the air. The only problem was, somebody had failed to hit the “off ” switch. Pepper’s blast of the U.S. team became controversial in LPGA circles and caused her to be ostracized by many of its players. Without question, Pepper is one of the greatest players in the history of the Solheim Cup. She has never been chosen as a captain because of this incident.
I also got a text from my daughter Ambry, who said I was getting killed on Golf Channel’s “Morning Drive.” I resisted the temptation to turn on the TV and headed to the dining room with my iPad.
A few minutes later, Pepper texted again and said: “People will criticize everything but knowing you made every effort lets YOU breethe (sic) freely again.”
Another Pepper text a minute later, “Some of the ’07 USA Solheim Cup team have not spoken to me since and will never again but I know they rejected my efforts to reach out. That then becomes THEIR problem.”
At 7:21 a.m. I responded to Pepper, “What should I apologize for. Don’t mean that sarcastically. What would you say?”
I had no appetite to eat. I stepped outside the dining room and called Dottie. The purpose of the call was to discuss the correct choice of words for an apology. “I don’t want to make the situation worse by using the wrong words again,” I explained to Pepper. “Help me craft my words. I think saying it from a woman’s perspective would be good. Please help me.”
She agreed to, and about 7:30 a.m. Dottie texted instructions: “Only thing you need to apologize for is hitting the ‘send’ button before really thinking about it. I KNOW that’s not your heart. You got caught up in an emotional and personal attack on the legacy of those in and around the Ryder Cup and that is totally understandable. I did the same with players I did not have much respect for on a variety of reason. Apology for being human and not perfect…Guess what? That’s all of us.”
At 7:35 a.m. I called Mason and asked him how bad it was. He said it was bad. I told him Pepper was saying we needed to apologize now. He asked when I was going to the airport and when I would land. He said he would “circle the wagons” and get back to me.
At that point it was obvious the PGA’s statement from the evening before had not accomplished what it wanted. This situation was spiraling out of control. I felt helpless but resigned myself to the fact that I needed to follow the PGA’s advice.
At 7:57 a.m. I forwarded the Pepper text to Mason. Then I texted Pepper and said, “Thanks I forwarded it all to Julius.”
A few minutes later I got an email from Wade, who must have been watching Golf Channel, “As I said in my little clinic last night. An apology must be complete and simple—I knew they would go with sexism. I think in the shortest way ever it must be quickly addressed to simply pulling it down. Julius knows that. Easiest when it’s one move but was leaving it to your professionals and Julius is among the best.”
More correspondence from Pepper at 8:09 a.m.: “Something along the lines of ‘I used a very demeaning phrase, got caught up in the emotions of the subject matter and was very unprofessional. For that I apologize. Certainly not verbatim but that should give you an idea.”
Immediately I responded to Dottie, “I wanted to go on Golf Channel this morning as they asked. But Pete and Julius said no.”
Pepper replied, “Not too late for Golf Central tonight.”
I texted back, “Yes.”
It was apparent that an apology was long overdue. I knew it was needed the night before. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late, and I assumed when Julius said he “would circle the wagons,” the PGA was going to craft an apology for me, given that they had put a gag order on me with the media. Surely he was working on that now? I also thought it was very strange, however, that I had not heard directly from Bevacqua or Derek Sprague, the vice president of the PGA.
At 8:15 a.m. I sent Mason another text, “I think the longer we wait the worse it gets.”
No response.
At 8:24 a.m. I texted Mason again, “Can you get me a cell for Poulter?”
No response.
Cindy and I made the 15-minute drive to the Lewisburg airport. As we sat in the tiny terminal I told her I was getting the feeling I was being shut out of all communication by the PGA of America. Julius wasn’t returning my texts, and I was not receiving any PGA emails. It shouldn’t take this long for Mason and Bevacqua to draft an apology for me, I told her.
A few minutes later I was mistakenly forwarded an email chain by Bevacqua. The email originated from Jim Richerson, PGA District 6 director. It was sent to Bevacqua, Sprague and PGA Secretary Paul Levy. I was clearly omitted. The email read, “I for one think our only option is to take swift and decisive action. Derek, Paul, Pete—I look to you to help us do the right thing!”
To which Bevacqua replied, “We hear you loud and clear.
We’re on this.”
Wow. That was a much different reaction than I had received from Bevacqua the night before, fewer than 12 hours earlier. I knew the tables had flipped on me. At that point, I should have taken my phone out and called Golf Channel Executive Director Geoff Russell and volunteered to go on “Morning Drive.” But again, I was trying to obey the PGA’s instructions to do no interviews.
As I read down the email chain I could see Richerson originally had reached out to Mason at 6:34 a.m. and said, “Have we confirmed the statements/posts? If so, what are the plans and next steps in the media? Official apology? Statements from Pete? I’m assuming we are not going to sit on our hands and that we will take action regarding the situation?”
My heart sank. I told Cindy, “It’s over. They are going to ask me to resign.”
She said, “Don’t jump to conclusions. You haven’t even talked to Pete or Derek.”
I said, “Exactly. They have shut me off, and that is why I know I’m done.”
My phone rang, and it was a New Jersey number. I let the call go to my voicemail and it was a message from District 1 Director Dan Pasternak of New Jersey. He said he was thinking of me and my family and couldn’t imagine how hard this situation was.
We got on the plane and headed back to Indiana. It was a sunny and clear day. My mind was racing, and I thought about the number of times I had looked to the ground from the window of a plane and wondered about life below me. I knew my life was never going to be the same. It was a sickening feeling.
When we landed at the airport in Greenwood, Indiana, I had two messages from Sprague that had evidently been sent while I was in the air.
The first, a text message, said, “This is serious Ted. We need to hop on a call with you at noon. I’m in the air until 11 am. Will noon work for you?”
Then an email, “Ted—I sent you a text but maybe you are in the air too. I’m coming back from the PGA Jr. League. Can we hop on a call at 12 noon today to discuss the seriousness of this situation we are in? We need to speak about this.”
In the meantime, I had also gotten an email from Lisa Cornwell at Golf Channel. “Hey Ted—I hate that all of this is going on. We all say things that we regret...I have done that way too many times. I know Golf Channel invited you on this morning. But, I am here this afternoon and tonight working Golf Central. If you wanted to come on our show, now might be a good time since you have a friend in me and I would do the interview. Obviously, it’s up to you. Just wanted to reach out. Hope you are doing well otherwise...All the best, Lisa.”
I responded to Cornwell at 11:25 a.m. and said, “I appreciate that Lisa. If I had my way I would have done Morning Drive today but PGA not letting me do interviews. I would like to apologize. Let’s see what unfolds.”
And Cornwell replied, “I totally understand...and figured that was what was going on. Let me know if anything changes.”
At 11:34 a.m. I responded to Sprague’s request to do a noon conference call. “I can’t do noon. Needs to be 1:30.”
”OK I’ll send call in Number,” Sprague texted back.
I attended a noon meeting with my business partners to sign some documents. The time that led up to the conference call was surreal. Around 1 p.m. I called Neil Oxman, who heads The Campaign Group in Philadelphia. I needed to talk to someone. Neil is one of the foremost political minds in the country, and he also is Tom Watson’s caddie. I felt Ox could give me the advice I was not getting from the PGA.
He had no idea what was going on with my situation. Oxman was in the thick of campaigns and had not been paying attention to anything about golf. I told him I thought I was going to be forced to resign my position. He told me to send him the exact wording of my social media posts. I did, and he called me back.
“Ted, this is not resignation material,” he said with a comforting laugh. “Sure, you need to apologize for the little girl remark. That was stupid. But you don’t owe Poulter an apology. The PGA can’t be so stupid as to ask you to resign.
“A simple apology on your part will make this a twoor three-paragraph story buried in next week’s golf publications,” he continued. “A resignation makes it a cover story that lingers for months, and the PGA is not stupid enough to let that happen.”
So maybe there was some hope?
At 1:30 p.m. the conference call began. Sprague, Levy, Bevacqua, PGA Chief Operating Officer Darrell Crall and I were on the line. Sprague read a prepared statement informing me the group was 100 percent in agreement that I needed to resign. When I asked for the grounds of resignation, Sprague said it was because of negative media reaction, potential sponsorship fallout and PGA member complaints.
I asked Sprague what my status with the PGA of America would be if I did agree to resign. His response still rings in my ears: “You will have no status. You will not serve as honorary president, and you will not be recognized as a past president. You will be only be a PGA member.”
I replied, “Well, it doesn’t seem like I have any incentive to resign. What are the consequences if I don’t?”
Sprague said, “You don’t want to do that. We have the board votes needed to remove you.”
“You mean you called a board meeting without the consent of the sitting President?” I asked.