True Boo: Gator Catchin', Orangutan Boxin', and My Wild Ride to the PGA Tour

Preface

Like most golf fans and sports enthusiasts, I was captivated by the story line of Team U.S.A. soundly hammering the European team in the 2008 Ryder Cup at Valhalla Golf Club in Louisville, Kentucky. While I was watching accounts of the event on TV, video footage of an American player riding his driver, whipping it like a Thoroughbred race horse and galloping down the fairway, played repeatedly. I was awestruck by what was taking place. I couldn’t get enough. The huge throng of fans cheered wildly as this guy dumped typical golf decorum and held nothing back—just having fun and being himself. Enter Boo Weekley, the newest icon in American golf.

I felt like I just had to do it to loosen it up a little bit, Boo said about his antics during the Ryder Cup. …It’s just my nature to be a little goofy anyway.

That was it for me. I became a Boo fan right then and there. Now, that’s what golf needs! I thought. Well, that’s exactly what golf got.

After Boo Weekley and Team U.S.A. beat the odds and won the Ryder Cup, I watched on TV as a celebration unfolded unlike any this country had seen in years. Not one related to golf, anyway. Then I learned just how big a role Boo had played in this great victory for the United States.

The Ryder Cup propelled Boo to new heights in his golfing career. His cheerleading to get the crowd involved led to Booing from the gallery, which firmly placed his name forevermore in the history of the Ryder Cup and U.S. golf. Besides all the great memories of fun, victory, and celebration, Boo generously gave us a new word during that tournament to add to the English language: compatibate. (It means to gel with teammates.) Fans also got a glimpse of the unusually expressive side of Boo, such as when he compared his fellow rookie teammates to a pack of hunting dogs, It’s like getting a new pack of hounds when we were growing up and going deer hunting. You don’t know what kind of dogs you’ve got until you run ’em, so let’s run ’em, and we’ll see.

Few would question that Boo’s one of the most interesting and charismatic figures on the PGA Tour. Many consider him second in popularity only to Tiger Woods (and perhaps even that gap is closing). He’s undoubtedly one of the Tour’s biggest draws, attracting huge galleries that boisterously Boooooo at every opportunity. His eccentric, down-home country humor, fun-loving attitude, and Yogi Berra–like quips set him apart from other fan favorites on the Tour. In fact, Boo’s been called Gomer Pyle with a dip and golf’s answer to Forrest Gump. Media attempts to describe his un-pretentious and quirky personality aside, Boo Weekley can really play the game of golf. He proved this to everyone with his breakout performance at the 2008 Ryder Cup—going 2-0-1 in his three matches—and his back-to-back Verizon Heritage wins.

Boo and I didn’t meet on a golf course, at a club house, or in a media room. Fittingly, we met at a deer camp outside Pittsfield, Illinois, in the heart of Pike County, arguably the hottest whitetail deer hunting area in the country. It was 2008, and I’d already agreed to collaborate with Boo on this book chronicling his ride to the PGA Tour, although I’d not met the man himself. A mutual friend, Ronnie Cuz Strickland, senior vice president of Haas Outdoors/Mossy Oak, hooked us up. Cuz twisted Boo’s arm—it didn’t take much—and got Boo to fly to Illinois for a primitive-weapons deer hunt. Cuz and his crew were there to tape hunts for future airing on Mossy Oak’s many television programs.

One of Cuz’s cameramen had come down with strep throat and couldn’t make the trip. Cuz asked if I’d run the camera for Boo’s hunt the next morning, suggesting that this would be a great way for me to get to know Boo. I jumped at the chance.

I’d seen Boo on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno and had gotten a hint of his mischievous side and wonderful sense of humor, but it wasn’t until I met him in person that I fully appreciated his character. Flashing his megawatt smile, addressing me as Mr. Paul, and answering questions with yes sir and no sir, Boo made an immediate and indelible impression on this fellow southerner.

As we talked, I discovered that Boo’s quick wit and his love of life, people, and country harmonized with his behavior. The man is as country as cornbread, and there’s absolutely no pretense about him. Literally, what you see is what you get—and let me assure you, what I saw then is exactly the same Boo you’re getting in this book.

At 5:30 A.M. Boo and I headed out for our hunt and were dropped off at a shooting tower reaching some 30 feet into the sky. With the ladder swaying and wobbling with each step, we slowly climbed the rickety stand and crammed ourselves, our guns, camera, and tripod into the tiny 4-foot-square homemade enclosure.

Cuz had been right. Four hours later, I had a deeper sense of the true Boo. His straight-shooting country charisma and philosophy of life just didn’t fit the stereo typical image of a pro golfer. Boo’s no country-clubber. Up there in those trees that day, I found a humble person who refuses to wear the celebrity moniker, no matter how much others think he deserves it. No, in Boo I discovered a simple, people-loving man who tries to find the good in everyone. He’s as tough as a Tennessee mule, yet as soft as Mississippi Delta cotton. Oh, and let me tell you, he can dress a deer better than most butchers and has as many ways to cook venison as Forrest Gump’s friend Bubba had to prepare shrimp.

As with Gump’s box-of-chocolates philosophy, I wasn’t sure what I’d get from Boo when the time came to sit down with a tape recorder and start asking him questions. Would I pull out an ooey-gooey-chewy piece, a plain milk chocolate, a molasses-coated hard heart, or a dark-chocolate nut cluster? Well, I got all of that and more. During thirtysomething hours of interviews, held in four different states, Boo recounted his story with refreshing candor, exposing his emotions and addressing his fears. Just as he was at the Ryder Cup, Boo was himself during our interviews: holding nothing back.

I was so enthralled by his stories of misadventures I hardly noticed how much he butchered the King’s English. Or that he used way too many double and triple negatives. It’s just part of who he is, and it doesn’t take long to get used to. Besides, he’s really no different from the poet Chaucer (He never yet no vileynye ne sayde), the Rolling Stones (I can’t get no satisfaction), or Pink Floyd (We don’t need no education / we don’t need no thought control). It matters less how a man talks and more how many people are listening to him—and let’s be honest, Boo isn’t short on listeners.

Thanks to his solid play, Boo has plenty of company on the golf course, attracting quite a following of devoted fans. It’s his life outside of golf, however, that has captured the hearts and minds of most fans. He’s passionate about the outdoors, specifically hunting and fishing. Those who share that passion see him as just one of the guys, and they understand what he means when he says, If it was up to me, I’d rather hunt and fish, but golf is where I make my living. As much as he cuts up, Boo takes his God-given talent seriously and gives his all on the course. He fully realizes that God has blessed him with the ability to play golf.

Above all, though, he’s a family man through and through. With Boo, it’s not all about Boo; selfishness is not in his lexicon. He knows he has responsibilities as a husband and a father, and that’s the most important thing to him. One of my rewards in this joint effort was the opportunity to get to know Boo’s close-knit, loving family. I quickly understood his devotion to his kin. They took me in right away as a member of the Boo Crew, allowed me to walk 72 holes with them several times, and fed me more Boo stories than could possibility be included in these limited pages. I can honestly say that getting to know Boo, his family, friends, and fans; following him on tour; and going hunting and fishing with him in the process of helping with this book has enhanced my life immeasurably.

Boo Weekley is colorful, energetic, and obsessed with his loves: golf, hunting, fishing, and family. His cavalier approach to golf etiquette and his unshaven, slapdash appearance have brought criticism from some golf purists. To Boo, however, the arm waving, fist pumping, and snuff dipping are all part of his game. Moreover, his outfit of sneakers and camouflage rain pants is his trademark. Boo is Boo, bottom line. As I said, what you see is what you get.

You’d have to go back nearly fifty years to find a personality that matches Boo’s. Not since the sensible insight of World Golf Hall of Famer Slammin’ Sammy Snead has there been a character of Boo Weekley’s stature. Slammer once said, The only reason I played golf was so that I could afford to go hunting and fishing. Doesn’t that sound familiar? He took the words right out of Boo’s mouth. Or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, talk about kindred spirits!

Boo’s perspective on life in general is refreshing, and his straightforward insights into professional golf are inspirational. He’s a living testament to the power of the human spirit and the strength that comes through a trusting faith. In short, Boo’s the man.

Let’s face it, not even Walt Disney or Hanna-Barbera could’ve drawn a character as colorful as Boo Weekley. I’m sure you’ll agree after getting to know him a little better in the pages of this book. Just one warning: Buckle up!

—PAUL BROWN

1. I Am What I Am

Hey, thanks for picking up this book. You know, it could’ve been titled True Thomas Brent, written by Thomas Brent Weekley. That’s my real name. If it were, though, you probably wouldn’t have picked it up, ’cause you know me as Boo. I’ve been going by Boo for so long that it almost doesn’t seem like a nickname anymore. They’ve been calling me that since back in the day in Jay, Florida, population 687, give or take a few, depending on the day. You’ll have to keep reading to find out how I started going by Boo, but let me just say it’s been a good name for me as a professional golfer. It’s sorta nice ’cause it doesn’t really matter if I flub 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 ain’t talking about no oil. That’s a whole different story, and I probably shouldn’t get started on that. Nah, I’m 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 finding my place in the world of PGA golf. I’ll get into all of that more in the pages ahead, but let’s just say now that I’ve 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 it’s because they think I’m out of my element in the world of golf (like Crocodile Dundee was out of his element in the big city). Either way, it’s pretty clear I don’t fit the mold of a PGA star. In deer-huntin’ terms, I reckon you could say I’m a nontypical.

Listen, I’m a redneck who’d 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, I’d say most know me best for what I do off it. I have a reputation for rasslin’ alligators, fighting primates, and playing practical jokes using snakes as the punch line. Well, okay, fightin’ primates and playing pranks with snakes…yes, sir. Guilty as charged. I just ain’t never rassled no gator. I’ve roped a few, for sure, but no down-in-the-mud rasslin’. Not that I’m opposed to the idea. Just never done it. Only caught them suckers—cowboy style.

When I was younger, we’d lasso them gators because they’d get after my granddaddy’s cows, especially the calves. Once we’d get ’em caught up, we’d duct-tape their mouths so they couldn’t bite (you know, they really ought to list gator mouth taping as a use for that stuff), and we’d put ’em in the back of the truck and execute Operation Gator Relocation. We’d 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 you’re gonna get with me. The media can attest to that. In fact, they did just that when I received one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever gotten from a reporter. I’d just signed my scorecard after a tournament and had stopped at the water cooler on the way to the club house 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 Weekley’s got to be the best interview day in and day out. You never know what’s going to come out of his mouth. He’s always going to tell you something funny, or he’s going to make a joke about it. By far, Boo’s one of the greatest at giving interviews. I really felt good when I overheard that.

Of course, I wouldn’t say I always give the greatest interviews, and I’ve got some stories I’ll share later on along those lines. Let’s just say there are probably some reporters who think I’m a tad rude at times. Well, I blame that on the fact that I treat everyone the same depending on my mood, so when I’m not in a good one, that’s what you get. I guess I treat everybody the same because of who I am and where I’m 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 you’re 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, ma’am, 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 didn’t 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, fish, 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, that’s the only way to play. Shoot, that’s the only way to