Vijay unplugged Vijay Singh reflects on the good times and the bad old days With Bob Verdi Golf Digest Vijay Singh is at home on the practice range. But he is even more comfortable at his home in Ponte Vedra Beach, Fla., where his "golf" room downstairs features a giant screen and 800 DVDs. "Listen to that!" says Vijay, lost in the sound of Fleetwood Mac. "It's like they're right here." On this December day, Golf Digest Senior Writer Bob Verdi is also there, and Singh, who doesn't often open up about himself, talks freely about his amazing, truth-is-stranger-than-fiction story. Singh refined his game as a club pro in Borneo; it was never better than last April, when he won the Masters. In between, his odyssey took him around the world. He's experienced both poverty and incredible highs, which lead to some candid takes on his life in professional golf. "I could go on forever," says Singh, who talks for five hours or so while wife Ardena, son Qass, a gaggle of guests and a half-dozen German shepherds keep the place humming upstairs. "Winter break. Soon it's time to get back to work. But my work is something I really love. So is it really work?" Golf Digest: Masters champions take their green jackets home for a year but then return them to the club the following April. Where have you kept your green jacket? Vijay Singh: In my closet. I don't wear it out to dinner. When people come over to our house and ask about the green jacket, I tell them where it is -- go see it if you want. I don't show it off. I don't even have a room where I keep my trophies. I have a "golf room" where I keep my clubs. I know where they are, but if you asked me where is my trophy from, say, the Memorial, I wouldn't know. Ardena would know. She probably has it on display somewhere in the house. In fact, I didn't even know we had gotten the Masters trophy, the one with the clubhouse and all the names of the guys who played in it last year. I was looking in one of our cabinets the other day and I asked her, "What is this?" If you went to a movie about your life, would you believe it? Or walk out in the middle because it's too much of a stretch? It is unusual, isn't it? I mean, Fiji, where I was born, is a dot on the map. Population, maybe 800,000. Serious golfers, 200 -- max. From there to where I am now ... I talk with Ardena about that sometimes. She's been with me for 18 years, when we had nothing, and I don't know what to say about her. She's either crazy or she really loves me. When I first went to play in Europe, she caddied for me. She would put the bag on a little cart, and pull it. On the range, she would just sit nearby and maybe read a book. Some of those places we stayed in Europe, we needed each other to keep warm when we slept. In Borneo, we lived in one little room with a little stove and a little TV. If we got a room like that in a hotel now, we'd move out. And yet you say those were two of the happiest years ever. Why were you so happy if you didn't know how this movie was going to end? It was just so peaceful. You wake up in the morning and hear birds. No cars or planes. I'd give a few lessons early, come home and take a shower, get something to eat, then go hit balls. Yesterday was like today, today was like tomorrow. Very simple. At night, I might play soccer with guys in the village. Go to bed. Start over again the next day. That's where you played for $800 with $10 in your pocket? Ten Malaysian dollars, which is about three of ours. I was making about $600 a month, plus lessons. We had a roof over our heads. And, yes, I did get into a gambling game one day for high stakes. Maybe more than $800. It came down to the last hole, a par 5, and I hit my drive out-of-bounds. Anyway, I made eagle with my second ball for par. And he went in the water twice. I never told my wife about that. That's the Lee Trevino theory about what real pressure is: playing for more money than you have. That was different than playing in a PGA Tour event, yes. When I feel pressure now, I breathe through my stomach. I read a lot about that. It helps relax me. That day in Borneo, I wasn't thinking about my breathing. I was thinking, "If I lose, will I get out of here alive?" So for whom do you carry a flag? The club pro who achieved fame and fortune after beating balls in obscurity? The Singh file Born: Feb. 22, 1963, in Lautoka, Fiji. Residence: Ponte Vedra Beach, Fla. Height, weight: 6-foot-2, 198 pounds. Family: Wife, Ardena Seth; son Qass Seth (10). Turned professional: 1982. PGA Tour victories: 9 1993 -- Buick Cl. 1995 -- Phoenix Open, Buick Cl. 1997 -- Memorial, Buick Open. 1998 -- PGA Ch., Sprint International. 1999 -- Honda Cl. 2000 -- Masters. International victories: 19 1984 -- Malaysian PGA Ch. 1988 -- Nigerian Open, Swedish PGA. 1989 -- Volvo Open di Firenze, Ivory Coast Open, Nigerian Open, Zimbabwe Open. 1990 -- El Bosque Open. 1991 -- King Hassan Trophy. 1992 -- Turespana Masters Open de Andalucia, Malaysian Open,Volvo German Open. 1993 -- Bells Cup. 1994 -- Scandinavian Masters, Lancome Trophy. 1995 -- Passport Open. 1997 -- South African Open, Toyota World Match Play Ch. 2000 -- Johnnie Walker Taiwan Open. Other -- 1993 PGA Tour Rookie of the Year. National teams and records: Presidents Cup: 1994 -- 3-1-1; 1996 --2-3-0; 1998 --3-1-1; 2000 --1-4-0. Total --9-9-2. No, I'm really not doing it for anybody else but my wife, my son and me. Or maybe just me. I'm not doing it for the people of Fiji, even though I know they're cheering for me. And even with the white history of the Masters and Augusta National, I never gave much thought to being a black man winning there. I can honestly say that in my time in America, I have not encountered any racism. When Jim Thorpe and I make fun of each other on the range, or even when a white player makes a joke about my color, I take it as what it is -- a joke -- and give it back accordingly. Which is why you feel that Fuzzy Zoeller's remarks about Tiger at Augusta a few years ago created too much controversy? Totally. It was ridiculous. Fuzzy was hung out to dry, and I blame mostly the press for making such a big deal out of it. I also think Tiger could have come out right away and said it was no big deal. I don't joke with Tiger about race. I've never gotten that close to him. I don't know that I need to. I've never played a practice round with him. I've never asked him; he's never asked me. I don't know if I want to wake up at 6 in the morning to play a practice round with anybody. Anyway, that whole incident changed Fuzzy. He's not the same person since that happened. He doesn't smile as much. He doesn't play as much. He didn't just get screwed -- he really got screwed. Have you got a thing going with Tiger? I don't think so. I think he's a nice guy, and I've corrected a lot of people on that. At dinner or just in casual conversation, people say things about him that aren't true. People are envious of what he's done. He's carrying us farther than where we've ever been on the tour. I've spoken to Greg Norman about how he handled things when he was No. 1, and there were so many demands on his time, day after day. It's got to be very difficult, being in the spotlight like Greg was and like Tiger is. At the 2000 Presidents Cup, though, your caddie, Paul Tesori, showed up on the final day with "Tiger Who?" embroidered on the back of his cap. You and Tiger were paired in the singles. And a little stir followed. I don't think Paul was the only caddie with that on his hat. I'm not sure. I'm not sure, either, how it started. I think one of the caddies went up to Tiger and asked him to autograph a ball and he refused. Tiger doesn't sign balls, which I understand, but I guess one of the caddies got upset and that's how the hat thing happened. Anyway, I was hitting balls and Paul showed up. He asked me, "How does it look?" I almost said right there for him to take it off, but I didn't think it was that big a deal. Paul has since admitted that it was wrong, and it probably was, but maybe it was a lesson he learned that will keep him from doing something else later on. I've never talked to Tiger about it, and whether it motivated him or not, I don't know. I really didn't care. I was just out there trying to beat him. And he beat me. Did that match have some tense moments? Not really. There was the fourth hole, where I gave him a putt from about four or five feet. That was for 4. Meanwhile, he made me putt from closer. Just over a foot. That kind of surprised me, but it's not like that carried on the rest of the day. We were just trying to beat each other. You talked about Norman and Woods dealing with fame. Where are you when the spotlight goes on? I kind of like the position I'm in. I've won two majors, but I can pretty much go out and play now without being hassled. I'd like to win a few more majors, and then the demands on my time would probably be greater. I wouldn't like Tiger's schedule, but if I had to do it, I would. After the Masters last year, whatever tournament I played in for a while, I was asked to go to the media tent for a group interview. I did it. But I like to have a schedule, and that's where it gets complicated sometimes. Particularly with the press. You said that your enjoyment of last year's victory was diminished somewhat because of the story that, on Sunday night after dinner there, you were overheard in a conversation with your agent, Clarke Jones, leaving the Augusta National clubhouse. Something along the lines of "Kiss my ass, everybody . . . " 'I was making about $600 a month. And, yes, I did get into a gambling game one day for high stakes. I never told my wife about that.' That remark had nothing to do with anything, but somebody in the media who was walking behind us, I guess, heard it and published it. Like I was criticizing something about the Masters or the members there. It was crazy. It was about a completely unrelated subject, but the press made a big thing about it. Clarke says it had something to do with a guy who thought you didn't have the game to win at Augusta. Exactly. The name doesn't matter. But nobody at Augusta, nothing to do with the Masters. If you would consent to the pay cut and become one of us for a day, a member of the media dealing with golfers, how would you operate? In the instance of what happened the Sunday night after the Masters, if I overheard something that was said, I would ask the person who said it what it was about before I just went off and printed it. And if I were another writer who didn't hear what was said, but heard about it second-hand or read about it, I wouldn't go write it again as third-hand information. The guys, the golfers, are forever wondering how so many things we say are taken out of context. One reason, I think, is that quotations are passed along and changed. It happens too often. There is a lack of responsibility. I have this reputation of not wanting to talk to you people, which isn't true. What I don't like -- what a lot of us don't understand -- is how we can say one thing and it turns up in print as something else. It doesn't just stop at me. When that remark of mine at Augusta keeps on being recycled, it affects my wife, my son. What I said is misconstrued as being directed at the Masters, the club, the members. Meanwhile, a week later, I'm back there playing with members, having a wonderful time, treating them with respect and being respected in return. Is there a mutual lack of respect between the press and the players? No, a majority of the press treat us with respect, and a majority of us respect the press. But it only takes a few, on either side, to spoil things. We try to be careful with what we say; you should be careful with what you write. Basically, you can write whatever you want, and there's no recourse. But can I say whatever I want to say? I don't think so. Gossip is gossip, though. That's the nature of gossip -- negative -- and human nature is to dwell on gossip. I have a lot of friends, in and out of golf, and there is a mutual trust. I'm very serious at the course. Maybe if I joked around more around the press tent, your image of me would be different. But that's not me. And the golf course is my office. If I come up to you when you're writing a story, are you going to drop everything to talk? Or are you going to say you're too busy doing your job? I know this, and I think most of the press does, too: If you make an appointment with me to talk at, say, 3 p.m. tomorrow after I'm done playing or practicing, I'll be there. If you approach me after I walk off from shooting a 78, I probably won't be too happy. I'll need some time to cool off, and I would hope you would honor that. That doesn't mean I won't talk to you ever. Can I walk into a doctor's office while he has patients waiting and say, "Hey, you, I need to talk to you right now"? I don't think so. With your background, does it explain why you once said you didn't quite feel you belonged, even when you made it on the PGA Tour? In a way, I didn't. Not only was I in a foreign country, but how many of these other guys have ever been dead broke? I didn't feel I really belonged, even in Australia. I was black, and I wasn't even allowed to practice at some clubs. I would hit balls in these fields with goal posts everywhere, in Sydney, with people kicking soccer balls and playing rugby around me. I had my tour card, but I still needed money to get around, enter tournaments, qualify, pay my expenses. I played one whole week in the same pants. Brown pants. At least they were brown, not white. I had one pair of golf shoes. I would play one ball for 54 holes. You made sure you didn't hit it in the water. I carried my own bag. Now, if you get your golf shoes wet one day, you wear another pair the next day. Golf balls are waiting for you in your locker. Did you ever come close to giving it up? Many a time, but where would I go? Back to Fiji, where I had nothing to go to, at least in terms of golf? And how would I get back there? To go home, I needed a plane ticket. How would I pay for that? Speaking of finances, there are stories about you running up a few bills in Australia several years ago. Can you clear that up? First of all, the stories are exaggerated. Through time, $20 became $200. If you stay in a hotel, even in the types of hotels I was staying, how can you run up a huge phone bill and then check out without paying it? Maybe a call here and a call there, but not the large amounts that some people have claimed. When I left Fiji for Australia in 1982, I was dead broke. I had made some money doing odd jobs, like as a carpenter, but to try being a professional golfer, I had to leave Fiji and I needed money. There were a few businessmen back home who had always told me, "When you're ready to turn pro, come and see me. I'll help." Well, when I was ready, I took one of those guys up on it. I went to see him, and after trying to avoid me, he took me in his office, told me his business wasn't going well and handed me $20. Don't spend it all in one place, right? Yeah. Another "sponsor" gave me a plane ticket to Australia, which was helpful. But he also gave me a blank check. So I took him up on it and went to this bank and asked if I could withdraw some money. The teller came back laughing. My sponsor had like 20 or 30 cents left in his account. Ardena was with me then. We were planning a big feast at McDonald's. It's funny now. It wasn't then. 'The whole incident changed Fuzzy (Zoeller). He's not the same person. He just didn't get screwed -- he got totally screwed.' But you were banned from the Australian Tour. Yes, by a man named Ray Graham, who was the head of the South Pacific PGA. He lent me $500 without any timetable to pay it back. Then he wanted it back right away. If you're broke, you can't do that. I called my mom at home and told her I needed money. She didn't have any. My dad did, but he was a tough man to approach. When I left school early at 16 to pursue golf, they were big-time angry. My dad was under pressure. He had six kids, and five weren't working. Anyway, I was desperate. The bills I owed, I eventually paid, with interest. Do you remember the people who said they would help you but really didn't? They weren't bad people. They weren't evil. It's not like that. But the idea of putting up money to help a golfer from Fiji go abroad to try to make it ... I suppose it was like asking them for money to send me to the moon. While all this was going on, how was your game? When I left Fiji, I was a scratch player -- the best golfer there. But when I got to Australia and measured my game against the competition, I was like a 5-handicapper. I did win the tour school in Australia, though. And I managed to survive. If I went to a pro-am and finished 10th, maybe I'd make $200. My golf game kept me out of trouble, although if you read some of the stories, it's like I owed everybody. It wasn't like that. And like I said, what I owed, I paid back. With interest. Meanwhile, the prime minister of Fiji, Sitiveni Rabuka, says he sent you a diplomatic passport and you never even sent him a thank-you note? I would have liked one, because it would have helped me in my travels. But I still haven't seen the passport. Where is it? My agent at IMG has written him I don't know how many times. Rabuka, the coup leader in Fiji, was at Washington for the Presidents Cup. I said hello. That's it. These stories, they just get passed on and on, and for what reason? Could you explain the incident in 1985? A year after going to Asia and winning the Malaysian PGA Championship, you were accused of altering your scorecard at the Indonesian Open and subsequently were suspended from the Asian Tour. When you sign an incorrect scorecard over here, what happens? You're disqualified from the tournament. Over there, for signing a card that made my score one less, I was banned. I did not keep the score, though. The kid who kept my score was the son of a big shot in Indonesia. I was angry at the way I played, signed the card, and then the next thing I know, they want to ban me. For me to say the kid made the mistake, that he was wrong, well, you just didn't do that. We wrote letters of appeal. Nothing. And you were gone? I think two things happened. The stuff about me owing money in Australia didn't help my cause. Also, I was so angry that I was a little rough. I don't mean physically, but I used some bad language. One of the officials who told me I was banned also said, "You've made enough money this year. ... Why don't you just take off and go home?" I said, "Take off and go home? You're accusing me of something I didn't do. I'm not going to take that." At least that's the more polite version of what I said. And I still haven't seen that scorecard. If I changed a number, show me. You don't enjoy discussing the incident in Indonesia, but if you did make a mistake and wanted to put the whole thing to bed, the best way would be admitting it, correct? It would be if I did it. But why should I admit to cheating, even 15 years ago, if I didn't? Just so you people in the press won't keep bringing it up? I cannot do that. That would be dishonest in itself. The people who know me, the people who see the passion I have for this game and the respect for it, they know that I don't cut any corners in the way I approach golf. The way I prepare. The way I play. For me to cut corners 15 years ago contradicts everything I feel about golf. I worked to get what I have. I never cut corners. Did I screw up in Australia by borrowing money? I could say that, because I took a while to pay it back. But I'm not going to tell you I knowingly signed a wrong scorecard if I didn't. The thing I did wrong was using the language I did when they told me about it. You can't print what I said. So you were off to Borneo for a club pro job. Is that where you really learned the game? In a sense. The first year and a half, I was at a small club where I mostly just practiced. A few lessons, but mostly I hit balls. Then I got an offer from a bigger club, where I had more lessons, better wages, and saved a little money. Then my third job, the best of all, was at a Shell Oil camp, where I made a lot of friends, many from Europe. That's where I got the idea to try to play in the British Open. I went to Scotland with ?,000, my most money ever. I practiced really hard, played the qualifying course every day for a month, and still missed the qualifying. I had a small sponsorship deal, plus I made money by being a bouncer at a nightclub in Edinburgh. Any rumbles? No. I could handle myself. I saw a few switchblades, but no trouble. I would work like from 10 at night to 4 in the morning, sleep till 9, then go practice. Eventually, with E1,000 from my sponsor, a company named Red Baron, I went to play a few events in Africa. The Safari Tour. I won my first event, the 1988 Nigerian Open. All the natives, people of color, cheering me. They never saw that before, because it had never happened. After expenses, I paid back 50 percent of my winnings. I called Ardena. I told her I made E10,000. She couldn't believe it. I won the money list for those few tournaments. I don't think I finished out of the top five. I go to European tour school and miss. There were a lot of good young players over there then, like Bernhard Langer, Seve Ballesteros, Nick Faldo, Sandy Lyle, Ian Woosnam. Guys who became great. Anyway, then I went to Sweden. That's where I met Jesper Parnevik and others. He won the tour school when I finally got my card, in 1988. I had a place to play, a little money, a wonderful wife, and a residence in London. I also felt like I finally had the game to compete. I even had a hole-in-one in France and won a Volvo. I sold it. All in all, you had a lot of chances to fall out of love with golf. Especially when I missed the qualifying for the British Open in '87. It was cold, miserable, I had basically prepared three years for that. And I never even made it. But I played quite well over a period of years, and one of the first events I played in the States, the 1993 Bay Hill, I tied for second, which was unbelievable. Then I won the Buick at Westchester. I had my tour card. What do you say to people who are tempted to give up on something? Make sure you have something to give up to. If I gave up on golf, what do I do? Frank Nobilo, who has known you for a long time, says you've been treated better in America than anywhere else. True? I think so. Galleries are nice to me. I sign a lot of autographs. If we get a request at the house, I sign it. I get along with most of the players. Ask the people around the TPC, where I practice so often. I have no problems with them. Or they with me. If I don't like someone, I'll let that person know. I'm not very diplomatic. I understand that. My wife is always saying I could be a little more diplomatic. I'm trying. She's not too happy about sitting beside me in the car. I feel I'm a good driver, and I'm not too patient with people who aren't. I've gotten the finger a few times, if you know what I mean. People think cars have brains. That's how you get in so many accidents. Tiger made some pointed remarks about the PGA Tour in Golf World a few months ago. Did that cross the line about golfers being careful? My first reaction was that Tiger and the tour will get this resolved. As independent contractors, we have certain rights. But so does the tour. It's been there forever. It gives us a place to play. If we have a complaint, we should talk to the right people. If I have a problem, I think the door is open. The last few years, the tour has been a lot more open-minded. I'd go talk to Tim Finchem, our commissioner, and I think he'd be there to listen. One on one. If there is a tournament in Australia right after Christmas and you have a problem with that, don't go. A lot of guys don't. That's your option. If you had told me 15 years ago that there would be a tournament in Australia for $5 million and a first prize of $1 million, I'd have said, "I'm going to start swimming there now. I don't care when I get there or when I leave." But that's just me. I came from no money, so I respect it. I don't live for it, but I respect it. But you understand why players skip certain events? Of course. Guys can't play everywhere. The season is long. The money is better than ever. The more million-dollar prizes we have, the more other tournaments will be hurt. Like the Presidents Cup, where players play for country? 'I was angry at the way I played, signed the card, and then the next thing I know, they want to ban me.' There's talk that Tiger won't go to South Africa in 2002, but I think he will. A lot of money goes to charity from these events we play. That's very important. Nicklaus, Palmer, Player -- they traveled forever. We should forget the inconvenience, if that's what it is. Most of us travel by private plane. When you get there, you have your own car. Then they give you food. I don't know what else could be done for us. One of my first events in America was Arnold's tournament at Bay Hill. I was given a chance. I will always play there, unless I have a very good reason not to, because I feel obligated. Sometimes, we should maybe sit back and look at all we have. It's because of golf and the tour. I mean, this life we lead is unbelievable. Would Tiger have been as successful at something else? David Duval? Maybe. But I know I couldn't have done this well without golf. No way. I know I would be doing something I had to do instead of something I love to do. I might still be hitting golf balls, but it's nice to eat, too. It's nice to have a house and savings and some security, too. Every day is Christmas for us, but we still complain about everything. We're the biggest complainers -- it's too hot, it's too windy, the greens are too hard. And still the image of golfers is good. Yes, and it doesn't hurt our game that a lot of other athletes from a lot of other sports here in the States love to play golf but find it very difficult. Because it is. I think it's harder to play golf professionally than it is baseball or football. When other guys try to switch sports, they find that out. Meanwhile, one of your favorite pastimes on the practice range is hitting balls left-handed. And far. A chiropractor once told me that it's good to swing left-handed, because you're working muscles on the other side of your body. If you gave Duval a left-handed club, he might not hit the ball anywhere at first. But give him time and he will. It's the same motion; you just have to reprogram your mind. So the last hole of the British Open practice round a year ago, I played with Steve Flesch's clubs and he played with mine. I think we both made bogey. You have switch hitters in baseball here. Same thing, if you work at it. Guys who are left-handed hit better shots right-handed than right-handers hitting lefty, because most of them do more things right-handed. Like Mike Weir. Me, of course, I hit it a long ways left-handed because I'm such a well-conditioned athlete (laughs). Have you given much thought to how you might react when you return to Augusta as the defending champion? Emotionally, I think I'll be OK. It might hit me when I first get there, when I first drive up Magnolia Lane on Sunday or Monday. By Thursday, when it's time to start playing, I think I'll be ready to go. They really don't say much on the tee, anyway, do they? What will your champion's meal be at Augusta? Thai food. Lots of rice. You'd be surprised how many people who try Asian food like it and realize how much they've missed. What has changed in your life since last April? I've had a lot more offers to go play overseas for appearance fees, and because of that, the appearance fee has probably doubled. But I haven't thought of the Masters as a way to make more money. There's plenty of money to be made by playing over here, in the United States, and playing well -- without the travel. And, obviously, having won the Masters means a lot to my confidence, wherever I play. But being the champion can also backfire a little. How so? Well, you're supposed to play great all the time, and it doesn't always happen that way. The game is too tough. And the confidence goes fast. I tried. If I don't try, I don't belong out there. But it just didn't happen. You used to think it would never "happen" at Augusta. That was the major I felt would be the most difficult for me. Because of putting. If you're not putting well, you can never hit it close enough. At any tournament. But at the Masters, with the slopes in those greens and all, you can think you hit a good shot, but 15 feet is still not close enough. For years, we would drive from home to Augusta and be excited. And driving back, it would be frustration. I never thought I could putt those greens. Ardena finally said to me, "Maybe you should change your attitude about Augusta. You will enjoy putting on those greens." And you did? I did, but it was work. It was also part luck, as it always is whenever you win, anywhere. And I wasn't comfortable on the greens, because they're still too fast. But I wasn't scared or nervous. I worked really hard with my coach before the Masters about picking a spot on the green. A foot ahead of my ball, or two feet. Hit the spot, and if the ball goes in, it goes in. A lot of people don't know you have a coach. His name is Farid Guedra. He's a club pro in Sweden. I met him while we were both playing in Africa. He's a friend, a golf trainer and a coach in the sense that I see him only a few weeks a year. It's not like I have him around me a lot during the year, on the range all the time, watching over me. Otherwise, it's up to me and my caddie. You changed caddies. Last year. David Renwick was with me awhile, and was very good, a hard worker. But it was time for a change, and my new caddie, Paul Tesori, knows the golf swing. He used to play. I don't like to lean on anybody, a coach or a caddie, to help me with my swing. Some guys might depend too much on a coach, but if you're out there in the middle of a round and you're not swinging well, you have to fix it yourself. You can't call your coach. But Paul is good. He helps me read the greens. Do your new eyes help, too? I putted dreadfully after the Masters, and two weeks before the U.S. Open I had the laser surgery. I figured I might as well have my eyes done. I also went to the Paul Azinger style of putting, with the three-quarter-length putter up against my stomach. I put the end right in my belly button. Fits in there every time. I putted as well as I ever have toward the end of last season, and even Dave Pelz agreed with me. I went to see him for a couple days in Palm Springs in early December. He said he thought I had been a little open in the shoulders on address, but said I was rolling it well. You work so hard at all other facets of your game, and yet you repeatedly struggle with putting. Do you work hard enough at that? I think so. I'm an average putter, not bad. I get streaky. I don't think I could have won as often as I've won if I was a bad putter. But it hasn't been my stroke that's the problem. I think it's reading the greens where I needed to get better. It was Ardena who convinced you to putt cross-handed? Correct. Before the Western Open in 1998, I was working with Qass. I told him to putt that way. She said, "That's how you used to do it ... why don't you try it?" I did, and a month later I won at Sahalee. That was the first of your two majors, but Tiger has won the last three. Are you intimidated by him? No. I don't go out there during a tournament where Tiger is playing and think just about him. I think about winning, which means beating everybody. I think a lot of guys are in awe of him, totally, to the point that they might feel they're five shots behind him before the tournament even starts. The top guys seem to have more trouble with him than the guys farther down the line, like Bob May at Valhalla in the PGA. There must be a reason for that. The top guys put so much pressure on themselves. They think if they don't beat Tiger, it's the end of the world. I say that, and yet I don't think I've played to my potential against him. But I'm not in awe of him. Do you expect him to dominate for years? I don't know about that. Some of the shots he pulls off are amazing, but he's young and fearless. I don't know if he'll be able to do all of that 10 years from now. He really hasn't had to deal with failure yet. He probably considers every tournament he doesn't win a bad tournament, but he's never really experienced failure in the common sense, and I think he will. He'll learn, and I don't say that because he's not a great player, but because the game just isn't that easy. We all learn. Those experiences, the strain of travel, it all adds up. It's going to get old, even for him. I don't think he'll win 10 tournaments a year every year -- I don't think. If he does, well, that's incredible. Plus, there are a bunch of kids coming along who are younger than Tiger and even more fearless. Adam Scott, Aaron Baddeley, Charles Howell. From the States, Sweden, Australia. The money is so good now, more and more kids are getting into golf, and they're going to want to challenge Tiger. And then, after a while, those kids won't be kids anymore and they'll learn. Most of the top guys are 30 or under. Those of us in the late 30s, how many more years have we got? I'm tough mentally, and I still enjoying playing and working. But I have to watch myself. You're in good physical shape. Yes, but they say when you get older, you get slower. I'm working more and more on my agility. Jumping rope, throwing a ball around quickly. I've done a lot of conditioning through the years. I'm not so much interested in lifting weights to become stronger, but I want to be more flexible, watch my weight. I seldom drink alcohol. I'm careful with what I eat. Smaller portions. No late meals. And the last cigar I had was three or four years ago in Argentina. I almost threw up. That's why it was my last cigar. You spend hours on the range. And you hear about it. Does that get old? Sometimes. People talk about it forever, how I hit more balls than anybody else. It's like that's the only reason I can play. Which bothers me a bit. But I'm from the old school, and nobody gave me anything. So to be able to go out there and practice and build a swing is a victory in itself of sorts. Don't get me wrong. I know there are many others who have worked hard -- Tom Watson, Tom Kite, many others. But that's where I learned the game and my swing, which is much different than it was 15 years ago. It was looser then, longer. Not nearly as good. And my knowledge of the game was not nearly as good. Practicing is how I did that. There are probably guys who could be superstars but aren't because they didn't work at it. And if I had not done it this way, I might not be where I am. If the golf coach from one of the U.S. colleges had come to Fiji when I was young and had given me a scholarship, I don't know if I would have achieved what I did. I don't think so. Maybe. It was gradual for me, a lot of small stages. If I had come from Fiji to the States as a kid and was put in a golf program, it might have destroyed my initiative. There is a pride, a satisfaction, in getting here the way I did. Which doesn't make the U.S. college guys any worse, any lesser golfers than me. My brother, Krishna, was a better player than me in Fiji. But everything happens for a reason. Maybe I had more fire in my belly. You've been in America awhile. What do you think of it? You have a wonderful country. When they say America is the land of opportunity, it's true. If you work hard, people appreciate you. We talked a little before about racial issues and social turmoil. I am of Indian descent, and in Fiji, if I were there now, I would probably be discriminated against. The native Fijians have the land and the power. There always seems to be turmoil there. You laugh about your recent presidential election and how crazy it was, but in a lot of other countries, there would have been real trouble. Here, while they counted the votes, there was peace. Your parents are still alive? My mother lives in Australia, my father in New Zealand. They separated some time ago. My dad was very strict, very old-fashioned. We talk only occasionally. We're not close. I'm closer with my mom. I've looked after them, as best I could. I bought them both houses, which they deserve. They had a hard life, and I'm in a position to help out. They both came to see me at the Presidents Cup. We went out to dinner, but they didn't sit together. That's life. I wish Ardena could be closer to my parents, particularly around the holidays. What about Qass? Does he know Dad is a celebrity? I wish I was my son. He's got everything I never had. For Christmas, you should see what he collects. Christmas for us in Fiji was not about presents. It meant a good dinner. That was Christmas. A good dinner with Coke instead of water. We do spoil Qass, I guess, but if he appreciates what he has, then I suppose he's not spoiled. I know that he doesn't act spoiled around other people. He's very well-mannered. He has discipline. Ardena is a very good mother, and I'm not afraid to tell Qass when he's wrong. Not at all afraid. That is very much part of my background. That's the way it was when I was a kid. Qass has a lot of friends, but he's also able to have fun by himself. I would love to see him get into golf. He plays some now and has a lot of ability. But America is not Fiji. There are 20 things for him to do in his free time. We thought about home schooling him, but my wife thought it would be better for him to be among other kids. He loves to swim. He's got the pool and the ocean. We sent him to a surfing school, and he came home all excited. "Dad, I got a prize." What was it? "I got the best wipeout." Your dad got you interested in golf? Yes. He played and followed it. Sugar cane used to be the main industry, but tourism took over, and people brought in stuff. My dad was friendly with a Pan Am pilot who brought in equipment and magazines, and that's how I patterned my swing at first. By looking at Tom Weiskopf's photographs in Golf Digest. I'm tall, and my father told me to model myself after someone who had the same build. Did golf drive you to solitude, or did solitude drive you to golf? We slept six of us to a room, Krishna and me in the same bed, his toes to my head, my toes to his head, and if he moved, I had to move. But that's all we had. When you have nothing, when you are poor, you know no better. You don't know anything else. And we were middle class, so we had more than a lot of families. But still not very much. If I needed money, which I usually did, I would go caddie for maybe $1. So, with all those kids, I wasn't alone, but I was lonely. I took to golf, and I was perfectly happy to hit balls by myself. I didn't caddie as much as I should have, because I preferred to play. And if I was in a tournament, I would sell the prize even before I won it. Not out in the open, but quietly. We didn't win trophies, but stuff like cameras and stereo sets. You're not all that attached to Fiji anymore? No, but I would like to do something there in a golf sense. In a charitable way. I'm looking into how and why. There are kids there now who don't have the opportunity to play the game and become better at it. I donate to different causes in Jacksonville, because this is where I live. This is home. So it's you and Ardena and Qass and your six German shepherds. Do you trust the dogs more than reporters? You said that -- I didn't. We live in kind of an isolated place, on the beach, not far from the TPC. It can get pretty lonely there, pretty quiet. We have an alarm system, but there's no alarm system better than six German shepherds. They bark at anything that moves. You sleep well at night. Except when the dogs bark. Yes, I do. The South African Open in 1997, I won there. I played in places where ... you talk about turning back the clock. Augusta is like a walk in the park compared with some places I've played. You go to a town in Kenya or Ivory Coast or Calcutta. You ride a beautiful bus from the hotel and you see a river that is absolutely filthy where people are bathing and washing their clothes with the buffalos and the cows. Then you enter this palace where there are gardeners and trays of food and 10 servants. A fairy tale. And outside the gate, people are carrying a corpse to a burial ground. The body is bouncing up and down as they walk, and I'm going to play golf. You give a dollar to someone and you see the expression. People over here in America don't understand that. This is paradise.