Friday, January 19, 2007
I was wondering if you had ever been considered or offered the lead analyst position after Venturi retired? I ask this because out of all of the golf commentators currently out there, you're probably one of the most popular and well-liked of the bunch, and would think the bigwigs at CBS would also acknowledge this (if not, they don't realize what an asset you are to them). Anyway, you're good at what you do, and I'd like to see more of you in the future.
-- Edge Lee, San Francisco








Booze and golf. Why is this such a great combo?
-- Francisco, Caracas, Venezuela







When you turn 50, Are you going to join Gary McCord on the Champions Tour? Since he won, you should not have a problem notching a victory.
-- Stephen Barrouquere, Metairie, La.






Where and when was your favorite round of golf and what happened?
-- Doug Warden, Redmond, WA

Bless you my son,
Reverend N. Ron Hubbard.

Do you have any tales about John Daly and Rich Beem? They'd make a great pair in the next Ryder Cup!
-- Luke Burdess, London

Yes, indeed I do have stories about both Rich Beem and John Daly. Unfortunately, I don't have any that are printable. The three of us will always be friends though, because we know so much about each other. Beemer and Johnny as Ryder Cup partners? In the fourball, I wouldn't bet against them unless they were playing at a venue with a casino.

Eat my shorts,
Uncle Davey.

I really enjoyed your column in the November issue of GOLF MAGAZINE. Who do you think will be the first to win a major out of the new young guns on Tour?
Keith Bursey, Lynn, Ma

Keith,

I don't care who wins anything at this time of the year. In fact, I hope Arnold Palmer is the next one to win a major. I'm going bird hunting, and dear God, I look the part. Cavalry twill duck-stalker with yak velvet earflaps, coke-bottle shooter's goggles with laser homing device, twin bandolier cartridge straps crossing at the sternum, all trussed up by a rhino horn codpiece over full-length ditch waders with go-faster mudflaps on the wellies. I'm positively magnificent, and almost stone-f**king deaf. I've let loose about 8000 shells in the last week, preparing for some quail and chukar buggering with my son Rory. A 10-year-old with a single-shot 410 shotgun? I'm probably going to die.

Here's looking up your nightdress,
Feherty.

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