Bruise Brothers

Thirteen years after teaming to win a Players title, Fred Couples and caddie Joe LaCava are still at it: trading barbs and chasing titles

favorite pastime: For sports junkies Couples and LaCava, nothing beats a day off, a soft couch and a bunch of games on TV.

By Bob Verdi

Photos by Stephen Szurlej

May 4, 2009

It is Monday before the Masters, and a big Monday it is for Fred Couples and Joe LaCava. Not so much because the year's first major beckons, but because their off-day after a tiring week at the Shell Houston Open offers a feast of sports on television: back-to-back-to-back season openers in baseball, followed by the NCAA men's basketball championship tilt between North Carolina and Michigan State. "I haven't moved all afternoon and don't plan on moving," says Couples, plopped comfortably in a cushy recliner directly across from a flat-screen showing the New York Mets and Cincinnati Reds. Freddie never needs an excuse to do nothing for extended time periods, but he has one now. He played 54 holes in two days down in Texas, then arrived late Sunday night to the house he is renting a couple miles from Augusta National.

The fact that Couples, who seemed poised for his first PGA Tour victory since 2003 (also in Houston), finished with three consecutive bogeys does not appear to have wrecked his mood. Couples' achy back needs a rest, but otherwise he seems up to the task of pursuing a favorite diversion: bonding with LaCava, his trusted caddie of 20 years, an eternity for such partnerships. Golfers change caddies like they change grips, with regularity and without much fanfare. Couples and LaCava, however, not only see each other on the course, they socialize off it.

"We met in Japan a long time ago," Couples says. "I don't remember exactly what event, but it was probably another one I lost on the last three holes." LaCava, stretched out on the couch to Couples' left, picks up the story from there. He was working for cousin Ken Green, who had decided to bring his brother out. "I heard Fred was looking for a new full-time guy, so I called him," LaCava says. "Then I called him again, and again. Naturally, he didn't call back for a couple months. Finally, he picks up the phone around Christmas and tells me he's going to play four in a row on the West Coast starting the 1990 season. 'Would I like to work? Of course.' "

Couples, who pretended to be watching the ballgame while LaCava tweaked his communications skills, immediately counters: "Joe, I didn't wait two months, and besides you didn't know a 2-iron from a 7-iron then." In most employer/employee scenarios, taunts such as these would be indicative of latent hostility. But to these two beauties, barbs are a way of life, not unlike breathing. In theory, Couples is management and LaCava is labor. In theory. That doesn't apply this day or most days really. Besides, LaCava brought over lunch so Couples could remain immobile.

"You figure it out," sighs Couples, who turns 50 in October. "I been married twice and can't stay married. But I've been with Joe for 20 friggin' years." On the scant possibility that he might come off as sentimental or profound, Freddie catches himself. Now he throws the harpoon. "You would think," he says, talking to a guest and pretending LaCava, 45, is suddenly invisible, "that a guy wouldn't do what Joe did to me in 1993. On top of that, I just found out about it! He did it on purpose! Tell him the Westchester story, Joe. Go, ahead. Tell him." Feigning anger, Couples turns the floor over to LaCava.

The Westchester Story LaCava: It was a week I dreaded because Fred was staying a long way from the course. I knew with the traffic and all, he would be miserable. Which he was. I had friends and family down from Connecticut, and they were going to pull for Fred because he's such a nice guy. There was only one problem. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to see anybody from Westchester, from New York City, from the entire state.

Couples: Joe, you're getting pretty dramatic, but that part is true. I was miserable. This house I'm staying at, it's a mansion. I take a walk one morning. Guys are out front painting the columns, touching 'em up. I ask what's going on. They say they're getting ready for the party that night. I ask who the party is for. 'Party is for you,' they tell me. Well, that's nice. I don't want any party for me. Now, I'm all nervous. I go and shoot the temperature, which was like 90. So, yeah, I was miserable.

LaCava: So miserable, he's just stepping up and slapping the ball for four days then firing clubs toward me. How he made the cut, I don't know. I know he didn't want to. Anyway, 18th hole on Sunday, he hits his 6-iron. Then he throws it toward me. I've had enough. I leave it in the rough. Next week at Baltusrol for the U.S. Open, he's practicing on a par 3, 180 or so yards. He wants the 6-iron. But there is no 6-iron. When he asked where the 6-iron was, I wanted to say, 'About a half hour away.' Instead I tell him I don't know, maybe someone stole it. I played dumb.

Couples: And here's the worst part. After all these years thinking the thing just got lost, I find out in Houston last week that Joe left it there on purpose because he was so pissed. Just left the club there to get run over by lawn mowers. I should have fired him. But I can't. And you know he ain't gonna quit. Where can you have so much fun while you're making bogeys on the last three holes to lose in Houston?