Chapter 1
I AM WHAT I AM
Hey, thanks for picking up this book. You know, it couldve been titled True Thomas Brent, written by Thomas Brent Weekley. Thats my real name. If it were, though, you probably wouldnt have picked it up, cause you know me as Boo. Ive been going by Boo for so long that it almost doesnt seem like a nickname anymore. Theyve been calling me that since back in the day in Jay, Florida, population 687, give or take a few, depending on the day. Youll have to keep reading to ? nd out how I started going by Boo, but let me just say its been a good name for me as a professional golfer. Its sorta nice cause it doesnt really matter if I ?ub a chip shot or sink a 30-foot putt—the crowd always has the same reaction. They “Boooooo” me.
Seriously, though, there must be something in the water down there in the panhandle of Florida, where I come from, and I aint talking about no oil. Thats a whole different story, and I probably shouldnt get started on that. Nah, Im talking about something else in the water. Some sort of magic golf potion or something, cause little East Milton High School down there produced three pro golfers who currently play on the PGA Tour. Heath Slocum, Bubba Watson, and I all come from that little school. Oh, and all of us have won at least one championship on the Tour. Like I said, magic golf potion.
Pro golfer or not, though, I sometimes have trouble ? nding my place in the world of PGA golf. Ill get into all of that more in the pages ahead, but lets just say now that Ive been called things like “a nobody from nowhere” and the “Crocodile Dundee of Golf.” Maybe they call me that because they think I act like or live like the Crocodile Dundee character, or maybe its because they think Im out of my element in the world of golf (like Crocodile Dundee was out of his element in the big city). Either way, its pretty clear I dont ?t the mold of a PGA star. In deer- huntin terms, I reckon you could say Im a “nontypical.”
Listen, Im a redneck whod rather watch a NASCAR race than a golf tournament, okay? I just happen to be pretty good at golf. Plus, though a lot of folks know me cause of what I do on the course, Id say most know me best for what I do off it. I have a reputation for rasslin alligators, ? ghting primates, and playing practical jokes using snakes as the punch line. Well, okay, ?ghtin primates and playing pranks with snakes . . . yes, sir. Guilty as charged. I just aint never rassled no gator. Ive roped a few, for sure, but no down- in-the-mud rasslin. Not that Im opposed to the idea. Just never done it. Only caught them suckers—cowboy style.
When I was younger, wed lasso them gators because theyd get after my granddaddys cows, especially the calves. Once wed get em caught up, wed duct-tape their mouths so they couldnt bite (you know, they really ought to list “gator mouth taping” as a use for that stuff), and wed put em in the back of the truck and execute “Operation Gator Relocation.” Wed just relocate those bad boys to a safer place. I guess you could call it our own little version of “Gator Aid.”
Anyway, all this is to say you never know what youre gonna get with me. The media can attest to that. In fact, they did just that when I received one of the greatest compliments Ive ever gotten from a reporter. Id just signed my scorecard after a tournament and had stopped at the water cooler on the way to the clubhouse to get a sip, when I overheard one of the media guys talkin about me. He said, “You know what? Out of all the golfers I talk with, Boo Weekleys got to be the best interview day in and day out. You never know whats going to come out of his mouth. Hes always going to tell you something funny, or hes going to make a joke about it. By far, Boos one of the greatest at giving interviews.” I really felt good when I overheard that.
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Of course, I wouldnt say I always give the greatest interviews, and Ive got some stories Ill share later on along those lines. Lets just say there are probably some reporters who think Im a tad rude at times. Well, I blame that on the fact that I treat everyone the same depending on my mood, so when Im not in a good one, thats what you get. I guess I treat everybody the same because of who I am and where Im from. Like they say, a nobody from nowhere.
I grew up in a working-class family. I learned what it meant to work a hard job (and youre going to learn about that, too, if you keep readin). We went to church on Sunday, said grace before meals, kissed one another, said “yes, sir” and “yes, maam,” removed our hats indoors, and did all the polite southern things for the ladies. Probably most importantly, though, as kids, we played outdoors.
Maybe I took it for granted or just didnt know no better, but I lived in the outdoors growing up. I was free to go to my grandparents place on the river to swim, ?sh, and hunt whenever I wanted. Nowadays, it seems, kids just want to sit inside and look at screens of some sort all day. Not me. I played outdoors all day, every day and, in my opinion, thats the only way to play. Shoot, thats the only way to live.
I also played every sport there was. Soccer, baseball, football, basketball—everything. Oh wait; there is one sport I didnt play: golf. At least not until I was fourteen years old, and I really only took it up then because I kept getting hurt playing all them other sports. Ill ?ll you in on all of that here in a bit, but let me just say golf wasnt exactly a breeze for me (even though I didnt get hurt much playing it). Despite what people might think, it seems nothing comes easy for me. I have to work hard at whatever I do, and golf was no different. I toiled on the minitours for ?ve years before getting my PGA Tour card, and I was living out of my truck most of that time. I mightve driven ten to twelve hours or something just to play in one minitour event, hoping to win $2,000. Yet itd cost me $200 for the chance to win that money, and if I didnt win it . . . Well, you do the math. Even with a number of good wins, it was often barely enough to get by.
So I had to work hard. Had to keep at it. Had to keep improving my game. It wasnt easy to stay on track though, cause Id get so dang aggravated when I wasnt playing well. Still do. The most frustrating part of golf for me is when Im not hitting the ball right. Putting is always going to be a weakness for me, and I know that, so Im not too bent out of shape about it. I aint never gonna be the Brad Faxon of the PGA Tour—hes the best putter ever to play the game, in my opinion—or a Zach Johnson, or Heath Slocum. Nah, Im a ball striker, so when Im not hitting the ball, its annoying as all get-out. Sometimes Ill tee the shot, Ill visualize the shot, and then Ill stand over it and I still cant hit it. Thats when I get aggravated. Of course, sometimes things happen that put me right up there in the clouds, too.
The most amazing shot Ive ever made was when I was an amateur. I was on the Pensacola team, and we were playing against the Mobile, Alabama, team. My partner and I teed it up on a par 4. The other team hit ?rst. I asked my partner, “Whatcha think?”
It was 289 yards to the hole. “Why dont you go ahead and hit your driver?” he suggested. “See if you can hit it up on the green, because I can lay it up on the fairway.”
I got up there, hit my driver like my partner suggested, and the ball looked like it was going to make the green. “Get down, get down,” I said. Then, all of a sudden, bam! It dropped in the hole. Im talkin string music, baby. Nothin but net. Swish! Hole in one. Straight into the hole, and the hole exploded, like a bomb had gone off. Like a meteor hitting the earth. A 6-inch cup blew up into a 10-inch cup. That ball blew the grass away from the hole. That was the greatest shot Ive ever hit in golf.
Its a rare enough thing to have a hole in one anyway, so my greatest shot ever really had to be one. Ive had only nine in my lifetime, and only one on tour, at the Viking Classic in Madison, Mississippi, in 2007. It was the 12th hole during the 2nd round; I hit an 8-iron. I was playing with my buddy Heath Slocum, with his daddy, Jack, caddying. The funny thing about that was when I got paired with Heath, I walked up to Jack at the ? rst tee box for some friendly trash talkin. I was like, “Get ready for an ass whoopin today, cause Im ? xin to give yall one.” Jack said, “Well, bring it, son. Were ready for you.” That was just us having some fun, and fun is what its all about.
When I made the Tour again in 2007, my agenda was to have fun instead of looking at golf as a job—and boy, did I ever have some serious fun, starting then and on through to today. The Ryder Cup in 2008, for example, was the most fun Ive ever had in a tournament. I still get chills just thinking about it or seeing a replay of it on TV. What a thrill and an honor to play on Team U.S.A. in such a phenomenal event. You can read all about it in the next chapter, but let me say that what Ive learned most since 2007 is that it isnt golf that makes golf fun. Its people who make it fun.
My caddy, Joe Pyland, is also my teammate (and a close friend). We go way back. Joe and I were high school classmates. Hes my right-hand man, and boy, does he like to work. Many times hell go around the course without me. Hell laser different elevations, look at grass thicknesses and grains, and on and on. Ill bet Joe walks 5-12 miles a day, and on ?ve of those days hes totin a bag thatll weigh 30-40 pounds easy. Joe believes in what hes doing, and I trust him. Oh, and I pay him (base plus percentage of winnings), so he has a ?nancial interest, too. Bottom line: The man works hard for the money. So hard for it, honey. He works hard for the money, so (I guess he ?gures) hed better get it right.
Joes been through a lot more than golf, and hes been under a whole lot more pressure in his life than I have. He served two tours with the army in Iraq. Sometimes I get up tight out there on the course about a lie or a shot, and then Ill look over at Joe and think, That mans been through hell on a mule, and here I am worried about a dang golf shot. Aint nobody gonna die over this shot, so just calm down and hit the dang thing.
Now, Joe is cool and all, but the love of my life is my wife. I dont want to give away too much, so I wont say a lot about that here, but Im madly in love with that woman. Then there are my two boys, Parker and Aiden. They cant grow up fast enough for me so I can take em out on the water and into the woods with me to teach them the immea surable glories of huntin and ?shin. Now, Ill play golf with my boys, too, of course, but if they want to pursue it like I have— well, thats their choice. I aint gonna push it on em. Thats not what lifes about. I just want to give them what my father gave me, and thats a love of the outdoors. Everything else will take care of itself.
There are two things I really love about golf: First, its played outdoors, and second, its played in front of a bunch of fans. Well, okay, I guess I cant say I love playing in front of all of them fans. I have to be honest and say Id rather some fans stayed home. Some of them will say the darnedest things. If I could trade places with those fans and put them inside the ropes, maybe then theyd see just how dim-witted they sound. Its one thing if Im playing good and I make a birdie and get encouragement from the fans, but its another thing if Im sitting there at 4 over and theres a guy behind me yellin, “Boo, you gotta make this one. I got money on you!” Man, I dont want to hear that when Im out there! I almost want to miss it on purpose just to shut that guy up.
Oh, but theres something worse. You probably wouldnt think it, but there is one “southern” phrase I just dont like hearin from fans. I was playing at the TPC Sawgrass in 2009 and getting ready to tee off when a guy shouted out, “Git er done, Boo!” Okay, now, I appreciate the sentiment and all, but that expression is kind of like nails on a chalkboard for me. I mean, Larry the Cable Guy hung out with us and entertained us at my annual charity event in 2010, and hes a funny man, for sure. I like him a lot—but I hate that line. I guess everyone thinks they should shout that out at me since Im the country boy. Man oh man, how I hate that line.
Anyway, all that aside, most of the time I love my fans. The fans at the 2008 Ryder Cup were the best. They were de? nitely the thirteenth man out there. Even when Id hit a bad shot, theyd yell out stuff like “Its okay, Boo. Youve got it, man.” They really lit a ?re under me, and got me wanting to give them all a good show. Which I did, I think.
You just gotta love the kids on the golf courses, too. They dont care if youre shooting 100 or youre shootin the fur off that thing. “Go get em, Boo!” theyll yell. “Youre my favorite!” Hearing stuff like that from them kids makes it all worthwhile. It aint just me theyre yelling for, of course. Those kids all have their favorites, like Tiger, and they say the same things to him. Sometimes I just want to go into the stands and hug those kids, and hang out with all the cool fans supporting me out there. Its a shame that the Tours gotten away from how it used to be, when players like Fuzzy Zeller and Lee Trevino played. Trevino would hit a shot, walk over to a fan, and ask, “What did you think about that shot?” That can make someones day, and I aint just talkin about the fans. Im talkin about the players, too.
So I try to include the fans when I can. I aint supposed to do this, but I walk outside the ropes with my family and friends and speak to the fans to let em know Im one of them. I thank them for their support, too, because it really does mean the world to me. The Tour doesnt want me to walk outside the ropes, but I do it anyway. I like being with the people.
I hope someday the Tour stops trying to pull us players away from the fans. Its almost like they want us to act like robots or something. They dont let us be who we are. They ?ne us for things like hitting our bags. I just dont get that. Its my bag, isnt it? Why cant I beat the darn thing? Theyre my golf clubs, right? If I want to break them or throw them down, why cant I? I mean, I can understand that if there are thousands of people lined up along the fairway, you cant go tomahawkin your club. Yeah, I get that. If you do it then, you ought to be ?ned (maybe even go to jail if you hurt someone). However, if you toss your club on the ground a few yards in front of you cause youre human and you get aggravated, you shouldnt be ?ned for that. We pro golfers arent perfect. Were people. We do things people do. So I wish the Tour would just let us show some blasted emotion!
Anyway, enough of that. You go on ahead and read about my adventures during the Ryder Cup. Im gonna go get ready to pay the ?ne Im about to get hit with for writing that last paragraph.