I’ve always said I’ve gotten to do things throughout my career that I never would have come close to if not for the job I have. Playing Augusta National is one of those things and near the top of the list. I’ve played Augusta several times, including last Monday as an invited member of the media. Actually, I won a lottery spot after throwing my name into a basket with several hundred other members of the media.

The last time I played Augusta as a member of the media was 1980 and was told it was a “once in a lifetime” thing. And I believed them. I bought new shoes and an Augusta National shirt, I worked on my game and ground out every shot from the back tees. I’ve played there since as a guest, but never again as a member of the media, until last Monday. I joked with the Masters PR director Glenn Greenspan for years about a “10, 15 or 20-year rule” after covering the tournament for more than two decades. “Sorry, Sam,” was Glenn’s reply, “you know, once in a lifetime.”

My friend and Senior Sports Photographer Kevin Talley even wanted proof one time that “The National” kept up on such things. The year he was selected, 1997, he asked to see if I could play again. “Kouvaris?” the smiling woman behind the desk inquired. “Let’s see,” she said as she reached under the desk for an old strongbox with 3X5 cards filed inside. Under the “K’s” she pulled out an old, yellowed and faded card, looked at it and read, “Sam Kouvaris, 1980,” put the card back, closed the box and slid it under the desk, with a smile.

Last year in the credential request form, a notification announced that as a member of the media, you were now re-eligible to submit your name into the lottery every seven years. “Every seven years?” I asked Glenn on the phone in early January. “Yeah, just call it the Sam Kouvaris rule,” he chuckled. Glenn and I have a long professional and personal relationship. He was the original Media Director for the USFL’s Jacksonville Bulls in the early ’80’s. We forged a friendship then that has lasted through my tenure here and his stops with Georgia Southern, the PGA Tour, Gary Player and now Augusta National.

So there I was, lined up to play on Monday at Augusta National. Sunday pin placements, perfect 72 degree weather, a caddy, and another new shirt. Without boring you with the details, suffice to say I didn’t play as well as I would have liked, but I wasn’t horrible either. I didn’t make anything over 5 feet (including four birdie chances) and had my share of three-putts and doubles. I was determined not to be score oriented, and grind away, but rather enjoy the experience, if only for how beautiful a walk it is. But it did give me an appreciation for how hard the golf course is, how small the margin for error is, and just how exacting you have to be to score well.

I had parred one and two, and was down the middle on three, 109 yards to the front and 114 to the hole. I hit my “gap” wedge, caught it a little heavy, and as it was in the air, thought it might be a little short. “Just get up a little,” my caddy, Brandon said while the ball was in the air. It landed in the fringe, 108 yards from where I hit it, and instead of hopping forward to set up a birding chance, it spun back 25-yards down the slope away from the hole. Now I have a nearly impossible shot (for someone of my limited talent anyway) and end up making six! So playing there was a thrill and it accomplished just what I had hoped: a confirmation of the PGA Tour’s slogan that I repeated more than once that day. “Boy, those guys are good!”

Plenty of people have been to Augusta National. Thousands stream here every year for the practice rounds, holding their tickets as if their admission to the site of the Holy Grail. Up until about five years ago, you could just show up in Augusta, walk to the gates of Augusta National and buy a ticket to the practice round. For the par three tournament one year, so many people showed up, the membership decided it was literally unsafe for the spectators and decided to go to a lottery system and limit the number of tickets made available.

At the Masters, your ticket is good for one particular day in the practice rounds, Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday. What’s called a Series Badge is good for the tournament days only, Thursday thru Sunday. The change in the crowd is dramatic. Practice rounds have patrons moving about the course in a frantic pace, trying to get everything in during their one day. They’re dressed in golf clothes, with the names of clubs from all over the country emblazoned on their chests. Starting on Thursday, the crowd is smaller, quieter, and older. They take up positions all over the course, watching the parade of players come through, acknowledging their skill with polite applause. They’re dressed is a more demure fashion, khaki jackets, floppy hats and sensible shoes.

This year, those shoes need to be waterproof, with rain falling on the course throughout the beginning of the week. The wet conditions have also changed the golf course, again, making it even longer. They’ve redesigned the fifth hole, moving the tee behind the fourth green, giving it some more length, and they’ve added two, huge, gaping bunkers on the left side of the fairway. “I’m not going in there,” Davis Love said yesterday after a practice round. “I’ll go into the trees right before I go in there. It’s so steep David (Duval) said he wouldn’t snowboard down it, so you know it’s bad.” Duval doesn’t necessarily like the changes, saying they’ve taken some of the drama away from the tournament. The two-time runner up added, “There aren’t as many birdie holes, you have to pick your spots. The back nine isn’t there for the taking anymore, even the par fives. If you had a two shot lead going to the back on Sunday, you might take nine pars and feel pretty good about your chances.”

“You can tell by the roars,” 1979 champ Fuzzy Zoeller observed. “It used to be you could tell what was happening by the roars coming up the hill from all over the course. Now, there aren’t so many ’cause guys are trying to scratch it out, trying to make pars.” One concensus is that length is essential. Fred Couples was amazed how long you have to hit it to just get into position. “From what I saw out there today, I’m not going to say you can’t play the course if you’re not long, but it’s definitely a bomber’s paradise.”

I’ve been covering the Masters since 1979. I was there when Fuzzy Zoeller made that putt on 11 to win the Green Jacket and I’ve been there to see Tiger Woods begin his historic run. And I was there when they had those little brass plates on the wall that said “Gentlemen Only” designating card rooms, smoking rooms and the locker room where men might gather and act in a manner that might offend some women. Those brass plates quietly disappeared about 10 years ago.

I’ve seen so much change at Augusta National that you’d barely recognize the place as the same spot I visited 25 years ago. Despite it’s history and tradition, just about everything at Augusta National is evaluated ever year by the membership, and even the golf course has undergone some subtle and not so subtle changes over the years. It might appear staid and conservative from the outside, but inside the gates, they’re always looking for a way to do things better.

There’s usually a lot of fanfare associated with any change at Augusta. Fanfare from the outside that is, because the membership doesn’t talk about any of the changes. In fact, the membership is pretty much asked not to talk about anything, leaving the public pronouncements to the chairman. People made a big deal about it when the PGA Tour players were allowed to bring their own caddies, and when Augusta admitted it’s first non-white member. And now, Martha Burk, the head of the women’s coalition, is making a big deal about there being no women members at Augusta. Her point is that the Masters is a public entity, and therefore women should be admitted.

I’ve never understood why people would want to shoehorn themselves into places just to say they were there. I don’t want to go to any parties I’m not invited to, and I don’t want to join any clubs where they don’t want me as a member. But Martha Burk wants a female member at Augusta, saying it’ll advance women’s causes and women’s rights everywhere.

Before all of this became public last summer, Augusta National was in the process of inviting women to be members. It probably would have happened as early as 2003. But now, William “Hootie” Johnson, the chairman at Augusta National, says it “definitely” won’t happen before this year’s tournament in April. Johnson says Augusta will invite woman members on their own timetable.

The membership of Augusta National is just that, a national membership. Many of the 300 members represent the top corporations in America, and the membership is spread out all over the country. While Johnson’s public stance has been heavy handed, he’s right: Augusta National is a private club and can invite anybody it wants to be a member.

The club produced results from a poll yesterday showing that more than 70% of Americans agree that a private club should be allowed to determine the makeup of its own membership. Burk calls the poll “amateurish.” The whole thing has been ugly with charges and rebuttals, threats and reactions. But Burk is way over the top. Her current threat to have protests and boycotts at the Masters this year sound like a yapping dog at the gate.

Women are patrons at the Masters every year. They make up a large portion of people watching the tournament. More than 1000 rounds were played by women at Augusta National last year. Despite her protestations, the club and the tournament are two different things. I’ve been to plenty of fraternity parties where women were present, and they were welcome and having a good time. But as far as I know, none of them demanded to join afterwards. Times change, people change, organizations change. And they removed those little brass plaques a long time ago.

There are a lot of things to take from this year’s British Open (The Open Championship to the rest of the world). First, they play some pretty good golf around the world, not just on the PGA Tour. There’s no question, as a whole, the best golf is played in America where the money is better, the golf course conditioning is better and three of the four professional major championships are held. But The Open Championship brings more elements into play.

The weather, for certain, is a factor. Played along the coast (usually) in the UK, one day it can be 50 and raining, the next 68 and sunny. Saturday and Sunday this year are perfect examples.

The courses are different, allowing the game to be played as it was intended, along the ground if necessary. No forced carries, just lots of risk and reward. Muirfield was just over 7,000 yards long, yet the score that got four players into a playoff was just six under. How does that happen? Through good planning and a solid setup, the Royal and Ancient created a scenario that rewarded solid ball striking, good chipping and bold putting. The greens weren’t overly fast, yet if you missed on the wrong side of the hole it was difficult to two putt. A wayward drive was penalized whether it traveled 275 or 350 yards. The penalty was the same for not hitting it in the fairway. Subsequently, guys who were playing well were rewarded, regardless of how long they were.

Augusta, USGA, were you watching?

Extending the “hazard line” makes a lot of sense. Saturday’s weather equalized the field. Guys who were hitting it solid survived, guys who weren’t paid the price. I thought it was funny how the players all just shrugged their shoulders and said “that’s just the British Open.” They would have howled if that happened at a regular tour event. And the R&A was right to continue play. The course wasn’t holding water, and the ball was staying on the green so why stop playing?

The fact that Tiger Woods shot 81 was shocking because he’s never done that before. At one point, he was on track to shoot the highest score of the day. Tiger? The one with the perfect swing and the mental toughness and focus to overcome anything? It just proves it can happen to anybody, no matter how together they are and how tight their game is. When it goes, especially when the weather is bad, it goes.

Woods is a tremendous player, the best in the world, and a contender for the best of all-time but he’s neither infallible nor invincible. He’s also the most commercially successful golfer of this era, and his game is tailored to the way courses are currently built. Would he be as dominant if all courses were set up like Muirfield? Tiger might win as often, but there would also be more contenders.

Ernie Els victory has to give him some confidence. Even though he’s won four times this year all around the world, have you ever heard somebody who seems to fight demons so often? It’s like he has a little devil standing on his shoulder saying, “you can’t do it,” followed by an angel on the other saying, “it’s OK Ernie.” They guy is a fabulous player who was doubting he would ever win (meaning beat Tiger) in a major again. David Duval also said he found hope and confidence playing at The Open Championship. If that’s the case, it should be a fun finish to the year.

The guy is phenomenal. Tiger Woods’ performance at the Masters was thrilling, strong willed and gutsy. It didn’t have the magic of his other major championship victories, but it had grit and was a show to remember. Is it a Grand Slam? No. Call it the Major Slam or the Quad Slam, whatever you want, but call it magnificent.

Holding all four major championship trophies at the same time is a monumental feat. Something other players have thought about, most notably Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer. Neither was able to accomplish it, but both had it on their minds. Palmer in 1960, Nicklaus in 1971. The problem was, other players got in the way. Nobody has done that to Tiger Woods. Jerry Kelly couldn’t do it at the Players Championship. Bob May couldn’t do it at the PGA and neither David Duval nor Phil Mickelson could do it at this year’s Masters.

Duval and Mickelson haven’t won major championships. It could be just their bad fortune to be at the top of their games when Woods is in the prime of his. Duval is a special story. It’s not as if he hasn’t won. He’s not afraid to “go low” as evidenced by his 59 at the Hope two years ago. His fitness regimen is unparalleled. In fact, when you see a tournament in person, Duval and Tiger standout as athletes. Everybody else looks like a golfer. David seems to be carved from steel, Tiger looks more like A-Rod or Jeter than Hogan or Snead. Duval has played well enough to win four green jackets, but fate or misfortune, or a three-putt at 16 has gotten in the way.

Nobody is owed a Green Jacket. Nobody is owed a major championship. Just ask Greg Norman. Duval has prepared himself like nobody else, except Tiger. It would be unfair to characterize him as Ali’s Frazier or Affirmed’s Alydar. Only a look back at his career from the future could cast him in that role.

Mickelson’s problem could be very different. His inconsistency in decision-making and shot execution under pressure could be because he’s still a golfer, not an athlete. He doesn’t seem to approach it as a battle, a mano-a-mano competition. It seems to still be a country club game to Mickelson. A commitment to fitness might be part of the recipe for future major championship success.

While there’s no denying Woods’ genius, I would like to see a serious challenge mounted consistently by the competition. Woods is always the player who doesn’t make mistakes, who comes up with the special shot. Can’t anybody else pull a little magic out of their bag? Nicklaus bristles a bit when there’s a comparison made between his play and Tiger Wood’s current domination of the game. Nicklaus points out that during his prime, if he made a mistake, there was another player with major championship credentials ready to step in. He had to contend with Palmer and Player then Trevino and eventually Watson. He’s right about that. Woods’ accomplishments against the all-time records validate his greatness, but there’s nobody in today’s game who can put heat on him with credentials to back it up.

Mickelson and Duval haven’t won a major. Ernie Els, Justin Leonard, Tom Lehman, and Davis Love, major winners all, seem to disappear at the wrong moment. But I’m not going to fret about whether Tiger’s dominance is good for the game. I’m going to revel in it. Witnessing history happens all the time. But in this case, we just know it’s happening.

It’s a pretty complex relationship, the one between sports fans and Tiger Woods. For a while, it was pretty easy to not like Tiger. A young phenom, who hit it long, Woods was kind of surly, kind of brash, and easy to dislike as he made the transition from amateur to professional.

His father said outrageous things and was the epitome of a stage parent. We were bombarded with video of Tiger when he was on the Mike Douglas show. Tiger was the youngest this and youngest that and his father was everywhere, reminding us about it at every turn. Woods talked about his “A” game, his “C” game, his penchant for fast food and video games.

People who didn’t know anything about sports, and had never even watched golf on television, let alone seen a golf course in person, knew Tiger liked to wear red on Sundays. His lucky color we were told.

Then there was the money. Millions thrown at him by corporations trying to jump on the Tiger train, grabbing a bit of this star.

Different ethic groups tried to claim him, but Tiger demurred, calling himself a “cablinasian.”

All of that was easy to distance yourself from as a sports fan, with one problem: he kept winning. A streak at the end of his rookie year showed him to be a force and a regular on tour. His Masters win in 1997 rewrote the record book.

Still a sports fan could call it a one time thing. The newest John Daly. Okay, we think he’s a player, but let him prove it over time.

Then came the well documented “finding” of the new swing, and the call to his swing coach from the back of the range.

“I got it,” we heard Tiger said.

“So what,” many sports fans groaned.

The streak of wins followed, the comeback at Pebble Beach, the challenge to Byron Nelson’s record.

“Now Nelson, he was a real player,” the old-timers said in the nineteenth hole. Even his victory at the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach, the most dominating performance seen in modern golf, didn’t convince some.

“Perfect weather,” was the cry from the peanut gallery.

Although it did turn a few heads.

When David Duval shot 32 on the outward nine at St. Andrews there were whispers. “Now we’ll see what he’s made of,” and we did. As Duval opened the door on the tenth hole leaving a birdie putt one roll short, Woods stepped through it, making his putt and the march to history was on. Duval melted down, Woods kept up the parade, like royalty, marching in front for all to see.

But it wasn’t until he walked off the 18th hole at St. Andrews did we see a bit of Tiger we didn’t know about before. A small hand on the shoulder, the comment, “walk off like a champion, because you are a champion” to Duval awakened echoes of sports heroes of the past.

Was it Tiger changing, or was it us?

Perhaps a bit of both.

Woods, at 24, was now a real part of history and he seemed to know what that is and all that goes with it. Before, all we saw was the exultation of victory, the fist pumping and the uncommon celebrations. Perhaps his graciousness in losing the match play championship to Darren Clarke was a bit of a hint of things to come. Maybe his position as the best in the world is so unchallenged, he can concentrate on the little things “old school” champions possessed. Maybe it’s none of that.

Maybe it’s just growing up.

Something has changed though, in Tiger, and in us.

Watching closely through the first two rounds of the PGA Championship, we wanted to see how Woods would treat his playing partner, Jack Nicklaus, the one with the title Tiger wants: greatest to have every played. Woods deftly went about his business, posting a first round leading 66, all the while showing deference to Nicklaus. Not an easy two-step to pull off.

Even Nicklaus, heretofore rather spare with his praise of Woods, said Tiger was the total package. In his post-round interview, Jack said he didn’t know if he could keep up with Woods in his prime. Woods was on the two-shot during the interview, and very respectfully stood and listened, watching Nicklaus, listening to what he had to say. No rolling of the eyes, no big smiles, no guffaw’s, no false modesty. Just, perhaps learning. When asked, Tiger said the right things and shut up. No scene stealing, no melting into the background.

When faced with a final round challenge at the PGA Championship by a virtual unknown outside of golf, Bob May, Woods dug deep and matched May shot for shot, finally winning in a playoff. If you tuned in only for the final round it was like watching a world class athlete play your club pro who just came out from the shop after folding shirts. May is nothing of the kind, an accomplished player from Southern California who has been a force in Europe for the past three years. How do we know that?

Tiger told us. He knew all about May growing up. He told us “May was the man!” in Jr. golf circles when Tiger was young(er).

This is the kind of stuff sports fans have been waiting for. A winner on the playing field, and somebody who understands the responsibility of his stature. It’s what the heavyweight champion of the world used to be. There was so much more to wearing the belt as the biggest and best. Perhaps that’s what the founders of golf at the Old Course had in mind when they gave a belt, instead of a trophy to the Open Champion. Young Tom Morris retired that belt, winning it three consecutive times and taking it home.

Maybe we should find it and fit it around Tiger’s waist.

Right now, he deserves it.

I received an e-mail the other day from somebody asking how I could possibly still be covering sports with the number of “bad characters” involved in the games these days. I thought about it for a while, and started to catalogue what I’d been covering for the past several months. Shootings, stabbings, court proceedings, lies, tirades and general mayhem have been everyday occurrences in the sports world. That’s no fun, and I was beginning to agree with my e-mail correspondent. That’s when Arnold Palmer happened.

I probably can’t overstate the effect Arnold Palmer has had on his sport, and the people who cover him. He’s one of the most scrutinized athletes of the century, yet he’s unfailingly polite, strong in his convictions, and successful by any measure .

Invited to a “grounds inspection” by Palmer Course Design at the new Golf Club at Northampton in Yulee, Florida, I headed there one morning, through the stoplight (yes, the one) in Yulee turned right at the next dirt road, and headed back into the woods. A couple of dusty miles later I came to a clearing, where about 15 people were standing in a circle, chatting, and the one in the middle was unmistakably Arnold Palmer. In a pink golf shirt, khakis and boat shoes, Palmer had just returned from looking over the shaping and routing of the golf course. He was early, as is his custom, and was ready to go. The Citation X was at the Fernandina Airport and he (what else!) had a tee time. While everybody else was scurrying about, as is the case with all real leaders, Palmer was the most comfortable person there. The organizers were worried Arnold might leave before the official time of the event. The guests and the media hadn’t arrived yet. I was a few minutes early (very rare) and had a chance to stand and chat with Arnold for about 5 minutes or so before conducting an interview. At the opening of Mill Cove a few years ago, Arnold invited my father to sit with him at lunch, and when I reminded him of that, and sent my Dad’s regards, Palmer graciously said he remembered that day, and asked me to remember him to my father! We talked about our mutual love of flying, and he quizzed me about what I was going to say in my upcoming speech at the Rampagers’ Change of Command. I chuckled to myself after a couple of minutes. Hey! You’re standing here chatting with Arnold Palmer like there’s no one else in the world! He’s just that comfortable. While reminding his long time partner Ed Seay about the tee time at Bay Hill, Palmer attended to all of his duties of the day, spoke to everyone as if he’d known them for years, told Ed to invite me to play golf at Bay Hill with him soon, and quietly, left. Not a minute too early, not a minute too late.

How is it that one of the most famous athletes of the century has the time for everybody, but never seemed bothered or rushed? What can the modern day player possibly say to excuse his boorish behavior after watching Arnold Palmer conduct himself with the grace of an international diplomat? The answer is nothing. I always find it funny to watch other players from golf and other sports, straighten their posture, change their vocabulary and check their attitudes at the door when Arnold enters a room. It can’t be brushed off with an “old school” reference. It can’t be called “classic.” It’s just what’s right in any situation.

I’ve been fortunate to have lots of professional encounters with Arnold Palmer. All are memorable, and two are good examples of the example he sets.

As a young reporter in Jacksonville, I asked the Tournament Director of the TPC, John Tucker if he thought Arnold Palmer might come on our air live for the six o’clock news. Neither Palmer nor Jack Nicklaus nor Gary Player had ever appeared live on the news in town, I explained. Tucker pointed to Arnold on the practice tee at the Stadium Course and said, “Go down there and tell Arnold I told you he would go live with you tonight at six o’clock.” After a bit of prodding, I ventured to the tee where Palmer was hitting irons, his caddie, assistant, pilot and others in attendance. During a lull in the conversation, I spoke up, “Mr. Palmer, my name is Sam Kouvaris from Channel 4 here in town and John Tucker told me that you’d go live with me on the six o’clock news tonight if I came down here and asked you politely,” I stuttered. Palmer continued hitting practice shots and without looking up said, “He did, did he?” “Yes sir,” I stammered. Palmer stopped, looked up, smiled and said, “Do you know where I’m staying?” “Yes sir,” I managed to answer. “Be there early and we’ll do it,” and with that shook my hand and went back to practicing. Why would perhaps the most famous athlete in the world agree to such a thing without a single hesitation? A long lost reason: Loyalty. He knew that John Tucker, his long time friend, would not steer him wrong. I arrived early (as instructed, again, rare) and was treated to a couple of the most entertaining hours of my young career. The live shot went off without a hitch and I left there saying to myself, “Come on! I just had beers with ARNOLD PALMER!”

A couple of years later, the Sr. TPC was being held at the Valley Course at the Players Club. Palmer was in the field, and they planned the grand opening of The Plantation at Ponte Vedra, with his appearance in town. I was asked to write the biographies of several players in the official program that year, one of them being Arnold Palmer’s. I was at the Plantation for the opening with several hundred others, and met Arnold on the bridge to the 12th tee. I had the program with me, and thought I might get him to sign the article I had written. Palmer took the program from me, and insisted on reading the entire thing while everybody else was waiting. Afterwards, he again shook my hand, said thanks, and signed it. Again, more than I expected, always renewing my faith in what can be right with professional sports.

Maybe Arnold Palmer’s explosion on the American scene, his values and place in history can never be repeated. Perhaps the confluence of sports, television and personality were a once in history happening, but there’s no reason we can’t continue to learn from his example.

A PGA Tour pro once said, “We should take 50 cents of every dollar we make, and give it to Arnold Palmer.” That might be a little low. He propelled two tours, the PGA Tour and the Sr. PGA Tour, into the public psyche as legitimate sporting events. He was more gracious in defeat than in victory. And more than once he made me think . . . all is right with the world.

Orlando – It was warm, balmy even as I was standing on the practice tee at Bay Hill this week. It’s a trip I make every year, a chance to catch up with friends on the PGA tour and do some advance work prior to the Players Championship. Bay Hill is loose, a comfortable stop on tour, hosted perfectly by Arnold Palmer. The players were cordial, jovial even as they prepared for the longest golf course they’ll play this year on the PGA tour.

I love going to Bay Hill each year.
I just loved it a little less this year.

I missed Payne Stewart.

Last year on Wednesday of the tournament, I saw Payne on the practice tee. He greeted me heartily, with a quicker smile than usual. I’d known Payne since the early ‘80’s and noticed the change in his personality over the years. From a brash, self-confident star on the PGA tour, to a maturing father with two major championships on his resume’, Stewart no question had become a kinder person. We walked across the tee together, and he threw his arm around me and asked “How ya doin’ Sammy?” We laughed and I had a good feeling about the length of our friendship. We’re about the same age, with children about the same age, both doing just what we wanted to do, with some success. I saw Payne 4 or 5 times after that, but never in that relaxed setting of Bay Hill, but even in those heavy congested media-blitzes that occasionally followed him around, he’d give a knowing smile when he caught my eye that said, “Catch you later.”

For Payne there is no later, but he lives on in the actions and words of a lot of guys I know around his age on the PGA Tour, and among the media who cover sports and knew him. The explosive growth of the Tour has mirrored the same in the sports world, and the amount of media around it. The last 15 years have been phenomenal, with people chasing dollars, and stories, sometimes without time for reflection. Stewart’s death gave a lot of guys a real jolt. He’s Payne Stewart, US Open champion, master of his domain, he can’t die! But he did, and maybe we all learned from it.

I mentioned how I missed Payne at Bay Hill to a friend of mine in the press corp. He said at Pebble Beach this year, early one morning, he went to the wall that overlooks the Pacific near the 18th green and just sat there for a while, because he missed Payne. This isn’t supposed to happen between the media and the people they cover. It’s supposed to be a detached observation. But it’s not.

I miss Payne Stewart.