At the Australian Open last year, Danny Lee's approach shot to the par-5 16th at Royal Sydney Golf Club found a bunker deeper than Yao Ming is tall. "Hey," the reigning U.S. Amateur champion said to a kid following his group, "what'll you give me if I hole this?"
"A high-five!" the boy said.
"Okay, then I'll hole it."
Lee hit a high knuckleball that cleared the lip, released and trundled 20 yards into the cup. Highfives were had by all.
"I need some cockiness on the course," Lee says a week later. "I need to have fun, be myself, and sometimes be a little bit of an a--hole." Lee, 18, is sitting in the clubhouse of Wairakei Golf Club, a pristine, pine tree-fringed course on New Zealand's North Island, 45 minutes from his family's home. He sports the standard-issue Next Big Thing look: White shoes, windswept hair with gold highlights, belt buckle bearing a silver "59." (He hasn't carded one yet, but it's on his todo list.) He's so skinny he'd have to shrink Charles Howell III 's hand-me-downs.
After a morning spent punishing range balls, Lee's calloused hand grabs a spoon to stir a hot chocolate. Born in Korea, he speaks English slowly and clearly with a Korea-meets-Kiwi accent. About that bunker: Okay, it was a lucky shot. "But you have to feel like you belong out there, like you can hit any shot." As Lee sees it, his idol Tiger Woods is both a great sportsman and a cocky S.O.B. between the ropes. "I have to be like that on the course to achieve what I want and play my best." So he shows off, kicks dirt, high-fives and, on bad days, snaps clubs and yells what every player sometimes thinks: "F--- golf!"
Few teenagers have the self-awareness to admit to being assholier-than-thou. But Lee — who is Eddie Haskellpolite in person — isn't like most teenagers. He beat the check-cashing likes of Lee Westwood and Anthony Kim at the Johnnie Walker Classic, in Australia, Lee's first victory on a big-time professional stage. Last August at Pinehurst No. 2, he became the youngest U.S. Amateur winner in the event's 113- year history, six months and 29 days younger than Tiger was when he won in 1994. The win punctuated 26 dizzying days of golf that also saw Lee claim the Western Amateur and bank a top-20 in his first PGA Tour event, the Wyndham Championship in Greensboro, N.C. The Pinehurst win punched Lee's ticket to Augusta. "I can't believe I won," he says. "I think, 'Holy s---! The Masters!'"
In April the world will see who shows up at Augusta: the humble, hard-working No. 1 amateur with talent wrapped in tinsel, or a brash teenager who's been accused of quitting on his teammates.
When Lee returned to New Zealand after his Amateur win, he placed the replica of the Havemeyer Trophy on the kitchen table and stared at the golden steeple cup for 30 minutes. "Those names," he says. Jones, Nicklaus, Woods. "To think, in 50 years, someone will look at my name. I thought, 'Did I really win?'"
He did, thanks in large part to his parents, who still coach him. His mother So Jin Seo, a 5-handicap, used to teach at a range near Seoul. One day when Danny was 8, he grabbed a driver and took some swings. He had the best swing on the range. By 12, he was winning junior tournaments. So Jin Seo and her husband, Sam, who was battling cancer at the time and happy to flee Seoul's polluted air, moved with their three sons to Rotorua, in the volcanic heart of the North Island. Rotorua has clean air, spouting geysers, and an excellent junior-golf program.
Lee got even better. His parents rode him hard, playing bad cop-worse cop. "I really hated my parents because they wanted me to focus on golf all day, study at night, and not be with my friends. My dad, he never says 'good shot' to me. He tries to build up my mental [toughness] by making me mad. He heckles me. 'Why are you swinging like that?' They say bad things. But now I understand why they do it. To make me tough, the best."
His parents were in New Zealand, a 20-hour flight from the Carolina Sandhills, when their son played the 36-hole match-play final to decide the Amateur. With 11 holes left, Lee's title hopes rested on a knife's edge. His six-hole lead over Florida State's Drew Kittleson was now two. After a solid drive down the eighth fairway, Lee turned to his caddie for the week, veteran Pinehurst looper Bob Scheirer. "It's time to get this match under control," Lee said. He birdied the next two holes and won, 5 and 4. "Danny's one of the few players who can make birdies when he wants to, by sheer will," Scheirer says. Pinpoint irons and a hot putter helped Lee birdie 13 of the match's 32 holes.
