My Shot: Judy Rankin

Interviewed By Guy Yocom
Photo By Darren Carroll September 2004

Hall of Famer and golf commentator • Age 59 • Midland, Texas

It's been a good life. I've never dug a ditch—except with my pitching wedge.

I played in the 1960 U.S. Women's Open when I was 15. I couldn't have weighed more than 90 pounds, and the course was very difficult. I began to get discouraged, but my father, who followed me every step of the way, could sense I was about to pack it in mentally. He told me over and over to keep fighting. And darned if I didn't finish as low amateur—the youngest player ever to do that, a record that stood for 40 years. Every golfer is told to never give up, but it's easier said than done when the weather is bad or the course is hard. I learned to hang on relentlessly. I have great admiration for those who never give up.

As a teenage pro I played a lot of golf with Ted Williams over a couple of winters. He could hit it a mile, but he didn't know where it was going. Ted liked me and loved to bet with me, and if it was going well for him he was fine. If he was playing badly, it was another story. Ted shattered a few tee markers. Then he'd just quit at the turn. "I'll buy you lunch," he'd grumble, and that would be it for him that day.

If you can't hit a 7-iron into some par 4s, you're playing the wrong tees. When you think about it, the only one who cares that you're playing a shorter course is you.

These days the ladies' tees are referred to as the "forward" tees, I guess to encourage short-hitting men to give them a try. But it hasn't worked. I've never seen a man play the forward tees, and I doubt I ever will.

The debate about drivers hitting the ball too far doesn't apply to women at all. In fact, it doesn't apply to most men. Let's say there are 25 million golfers in America and 25 million elsewhere in the world. Of the 50 million golfers on the planet, excessive distance is an issue for maybe a thousand of them.

What's a clear sign of age? I once was the queen of multitasking. I'd have nine projects going at once and rate an "A" with all of them. Gradually I got to where I could still keep nine balls in the air, but the quality descended to a "B." So now I try to have only seven things going at once, which is plenty. Staying busy stops a person from becoming self-absorbed.

God didn't make us all beautiful. With that, we do have a responsibility to present ourselves like professionals, to dress and act the part. There are a few players on the LPGA Tour who might be mistaken for someone at the hot dog stand—players I've threatened to buy an iron for. If you had an ironing contest between the PGA Tour and LPGA Tour, right now the men would win.

I played in the old Haig & Haig mixed foursome one year in La Costa with Miller Barber. We were in great shape, and one morning, over breakfast, Miller lectured me on the importance of concentration and how we had to stay focused. So we went out and boy, did I grind. Played every shot like it was my last. Then, on the 15th hole, I look over and Miller has a transistor radio hanging from the spokes of his umbrella. I ask what the heck he's doing, and he shrugs, "Arkansas's playing Texas." We didn't finish great. Great concentration, Mr. X.

It would be great if the Mercedes Championships had the men and women competing concurrently. It's done at all the major tennis events, the U.S. Open among them. But I'm not sure Tim Finchem and the PGA Tour would go for it. For the good of the game, do it.

Women are more emotional than men. Our brains are wired that way. It's what makes you love us and also makes you nuts. It really comes into play in golf. I spent my whole career steeling myself against the emotions I wanted to express. After I'd won what became the du Maurier in 1977 and pulled our car out of town, I broke down and cried for 25 minutes. They weren't tears of joy. They were tears of relief that the strain had ended.

I met Yippy Rankin at a pro-am when I was 20. We knew each other for only three weeks before we got married. I wouldn't say we eloped, but we did get married in Juarez, Mexico. If we'd gotten married in El Paso, we would have had to wait three days for the blood test to come back. That was too long for us—I was between tournaments.

They don't make burglars like they used to. In 1970, we were staying in a small motel in St. Petersburg. Yippy was in one bed, and [son] Tuey and I were in the other when a burglar came though the door in the middle of the night. The air conditioner was going, and that drowned out some of the noise. Yippy woke up when the bathroom light went on, but he thought it was me and went right back to sleep. The burglar cleaned us out and made a clean getaway. To this day, I'm thankful Yippy didn't encounter the guy when he woke up.

I always disliked match play. Whether I like you or dislike you, I don't like the prospect of beating you personally. In 1973, I went up against Laura Baugh. She was a popular attraction at the time, attractive and a good player. My friends teased me, said they were billing it as "Beauty vs. the Beast." I got very keyed up and beat Laura, 6 and 4. But the tension from that match made my back very tight, and the next day I herniated a disk. I had a few good years after that, but that injury eventually drove me from the tour.