My Shot: Gary McCord

Gary McCord, photographed Oct. 27, 2004, at Grayhawk Golf Club, Scottsdale.

Joey Terrill

Interviewed By Guy Yocom

Photo By Joey Terrill

January 2005

A golf game vanishes! A TV career materializes out of thin air! Life lessons from storage bins, bikini wax and dented lockers.

Age 56 • Paradise Valley, Arizona

Are you one of those 45-year-old amateurs who think they can make it on the Champions Tour? It takes cajones to think you're going to stare down Tom Watson in the final group on Sunday, and that's a good sign. But after you quit your day job and secure one of the seven spots available at Q school, you have exactly one year to get it done. You will play every single week and not come up for air, even if you pull a muscle in your toupee, because if you don't finish in the top 30 on the money list, you're done. Thanks for coming, and come back and see us soon. The bottom line is, it's the hardest tour to get on and stay on in the world.

The first time I played a PGA Tour event at Tucson was 1975. I came off the course on Sunday feeling very good about myself. I'd finished at even par, and I knew I could play even better if I worked at it. I cleaned out my locker and stopped to watch the finish on TV. Johnny Miller, the leader, is playing the 18th hole at Tucson National, a long, hard par 4. Miller's got 225 yards uphill to a back-left pin and decides on a 4-wood. As soon as the ball leaves the clubface, Miller shouts, "Go in!" The ball bounces one foot behind the hole, and he makes it to shoot 25 under. I just stood there thinking, Maybe I'm not good enough to be out here. It was a long, sobering walk to the car, and a long 24 years on tour.

In Valdosta, Ga., during a mini-tour event, a player named James Black bet me $20 he could put five golf balls in his mouth and then close his mouth all the way. I tried it but could get only two in there. James put all five balls in, which was amazing, but then he said, "I'll give you a chance to get even. I bet I can fit a whole loaf of bread in my mouth." There's no way a human can do this! So I went out got one of those extra-long loaves of Wonder Bread and took it back. James just smiled. He started compressing the bread--squeezed it, sat on it, stomped on it--and then began shoving it in his mouth. It took awhile, but he got it all in there and closed his mouth. It was the damnedest thing I've ever seen, a bargain for the $40 it cost me.

Many years ago, in the throes of my struggles on the PGA Tour, I had difficulty even getting into pro-ams. I needed money, so I put together a 45-minute magic show I'd perform at corporate events surrounding the tournament. My interest in magic was kindled by Steve Martin, the comedian I'd gone to high school with. One time I even performed on TV during a rainout. My specialty is cards and coins. I'm not very good, but I talk so much nobody notices. Hey, I'm trying to be the total package.