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Roger Rabbits with |
He’s probably the nicest person I’ve never met.
No, never met him, probably never will. Kiwi Ryan Fox. Golfer. Winning golfer. And above all, nice bloke.
Nice may sound underwhelming but nice in a delightful, enjoyable, agreeable, entertaining way.
It’s just a gut feeling. And sometimes you can trust your gut.
‘Sometimes’ I said – because years ago I trusted my gut and invested the first $2000 I ever earned in a fishing start up. Dumb! Because venture, along with my money, sank without trace. Not one fillet of blue cod to show.
It’s a pretty flimsy premise on which I judge Fox. A 180-second radio interview, just three minutes, during which he revealed himself to be a charming, humble and funny chap who won me with his story of a dunny dash, missed moments and a windfall.
It wasn’t one of those stilted, mind-numbing, learn-nothing sports interviews that scream for you to throw things at the TV screen. Those “what was going through your mind…” type interviews. Fox had raced off the practice range to chat about his first ever PGA Tour title with Brian Kelly, Tauranga host of the Gold AM’s The Country Sport Breakfast. Kelly probably would have preferred they talk about his King’s Birthday Honours gong. But this was Fox’s $1.1 million moment in the sun.
Needed a pee
For just 60 seconds Fox, the Kiwi underdog, relived that historic 50 foot birdie chip in, on the first play-off hole at the Myrtle Breach Classic. The other two minutes of the Kelly interview were given over to his family – wife Anneke and daughters Isabol and Margot.
Even on this winning occasion, a newly-crowned champion, and newly-minted millionaire, revealed there was as much drama just off the green.
Anneke missed the moment, missed seeing live that now famous chip. As Fox approached the green, Anneke had to scuttle off and pick up the kids from childcare. Those are the sacrifices we make!
All the time Anneke was getting a running commentary on the phone from her Mum who was watching the drama unfold on TV.
Then, just as Ryan was pondering the shot, which would earn him $22,000 every foot it travelled, $220,000 for each of the five or so seconds it rolled, one of the girls needed a pee. So Mum and girls scrambled for the loo. You make the shot Ryan. We need the bathroom.
When they emerge a marshal tells Anneke her husband’s “chipping in”. And as they’re rushing to catch up with the drama, a player grabs Anneke and gives her a big hug.
“Ryan’s won,” he explained.
His own style
Chaos erupts, the plot is lost, emotions boil. Ryan reckoned she was a “a bit flustered” for a while.
Talking to BK, it seemed Fox was more tickled telling the family story than replaying his chip shot. Probably says something about him.
He did describe those “absolute scenes”, as a newspaper headline described them – when he pitched exactly where he planned – “If I’d put a $2 coin down where I want it to land, I would have hit it”. Then 10 feet out, he knew it was going in.
I’m not a great fan of TV golf – it’s only mildly more interesting than an infomercial in the dead of night. But I have been foxed by the Fox, I am converted.
Not a tall man, more a chunky loosehead or tighthead than the lean, branded clones the pro golf production line spits out.
But Fox has plenty of style. His own style. Ambling nonchalantly up the fairway. He looks like one of us, looks Kiwi. Sometimes the tail of the polo has been arguing with the top of his pants – they’re disengaged. He’s endearingly different.
And he coughs to a weakness – “I love my food”. There’s even a story of him eating a hotdog mid-round. Even if it’s not true, I want to believe it. “They generally do the fatty, sugary, good kinds of food pretty well over here.” What’s not to like about him?
That was nice too
This is a family which had lived ”uncertainty” for a couple of years – teetered every time he pulled a club from his bag. Fox himself was living the dream playing the PGA. “But what was going to happen to the family,” he asked. “Where would we live, what would happen to the kids, would everyone travel?” Or would he have to go it alone.
The 38-year-old encapsulated his first PGA win in one word – “nice”. Nice the Foxes now had some certainty. Nice they could make some informed decisions about the future. Just nice. There was also $1.76 million of niceness a week later when he slapped a fairway wood within a couple of metres of the pin on the fourth play-off hole to win the Canadian Open. The kids didn’t need a dunny that day. They needed a bucket and spade when a bunker became a sandpit. That was nice too.
Then another $NZ500,000 at the US open this week should have nicely removed any lingering uncertainty.