February 12, 2005

Why? I simply had to see it for myself.

Anyone who follows the PGA Tour knows there’s something terribly gone wrong with David Duval. You remember Duval, right? He’s the guy who ended Tiger Woods’ 41-week run at No. 1 in the world golf rankings in 1999. He’s the guy who won 13 times on Tour in a span of five years, capped by the 2001 British Open. He’s the guy who once shot that magic number, 59, becoming only the third player ever to do so in an official PGA Tour event.

Fast-forward to 2005, and Duval is lucky to break 80. He did so on Friday, barely, carding a round of 79 that included bogeys on seven of his last 12 holes at Spyglass Hill. The 79 followed an inconceivable 85 at Pebble Beach on Thursday in a picture-perfect day on the Monterey Peninsula, optimum conditions for scoring low.

This week’s misadventures at Pebble come on the heels of a miserable showing at the Bob Hope Chrysler Classic — a tournament he won in 1999 — in which Duval shot 82, 79, 85 and 72 to finish 30-over. He shot an opening 79 at the Buick Invitational in his first tournament of the year and then withdrew.

When you look for Duval’s scores online these days, you hit ctrl-end on your keyboard, and there you’ll find him. Duval is dead last after two rounds here, and the poor guy still has one more round to go before officially missing the cut, which will be the 25th missed cut in his last 32 events.

So I came to Spyglass on Friday wondering what a lot of golf fans are wondering: How could someone fall so far off the map after being so good for so long?

After all, Duval didn’t just emerge out of nowhere on Tour one day. He was a four-time All-American at Georgia Tech and a U.S. Junior Amateur champion. His father, Bob, was a teaching pro who’s had a successful career on the senior circuit. David was supposedly born to play this game.

There’s a morbid curiosity to it. As one spectator put it, "I get to watch my game in action. I can sympathize."

Of course, I didn’t find any concrete answers as to what’s happened to Duval. He wasn’t interested in talking to me afterwards, and I don’t exactly blame him. To be honest, I’m not sure what I could have asked him anyway.

To my own amateur eye, I saw that same compact, powerful swing that was so automatic in his heyday. Only now, he’s blocking out drives to the right or hooking them left more often then striping them down the middle, so there’s obviously a glitch in there somewhere. Who’s to say if it’s more mental or physical?

Even when Duval did find the fairway and got on in regulation, he didn’t make a single putt of substance all day. He took 31 putts Friday after needing 32 on Thursday. No mercy there. Everything seemed to slide by on the right or left, or lip out.

I saw guys taking side bets on whether he was going to miss 6-footers, plenty of other people whispering, pointing, and saying, "That guy used to be No. 1 in the world."

I even found one spectator following Duval more intently than I was. Marvin Seaman, a maintenance worker at Spyglass, still idolizes Duval. "He’s the reason I started playing," said Seaman. "I started watching him in ’98 and I thought, ‘Hey, this guy’s pretty cool. I’ve loved him ever since. He was once there at the top, and he just lost it. It’s sad."

Yes, it is, although you can’t feel too terribly for Duval. He’s still got that $28 million endorsement deal from Nike, a new wife and three stepchildren he adores, and another child of his own on the way.

There’s been talk that the game just doesn’t mean that much to Duval anymore, that he’d rather be with his new family, or fly-fishing, or snowboarding down a mountain, anywhere but on a golf course.

After returning from a seven-month layoff to play the U.S. Open last year, where he was 25-over in his two rounds, Duval told reporters, "I want to play, but I say now and I’ve said it a few times that if I had to make a choice, I’d go home and stay with my friends and family and you’d never see me again."

I didn’t take any satisfaction in seeing Duval struggle Friday. He’s never been one to show much emotion, high or low, on the course, whether it be hidden behind those trademark, wraparound shades, or as was the case Friday in the rain, simply staring blankly ahead in between shots, rarely talking or breaking a smile.

Golf is supposed to be fun, right? It doesn’t look like fun at all for Duval these days. In fact, I can’t imagine that it could be any worse.

Contact Steve Nelson at snelson@santacruzsentinel.com.