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

Weekley, Boo

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1250002060 ISBN 13: 9781250002068

Publisher: St. Martin's Griffin, 2012

Synopsis

From the deep South to the PGA Tour, the hilarious and inspiring memoir of golfer Boo Weekley
Ever since his breakout performance at the 2008 Ryder Cup, professional golfer Thomas Brent Weekley, known affectionately as "Boo," has captivated fans with his eccentric, Southern-fried country humor and incredible path to the PGA Tour.

True Boo is the candid and often hilarious memoir of a larger-than-life athlete, and a wild behind-the-scenes look at life on the PGA Tour. Boo takes readers on a rollicking journey that begins with his humble childhood growing up in Milton, Florida. Called "a nobody from nowhere" and the "Crocodile Dundee of golf," Boo had to earn respect on the Tour. His game ascended in record time, culminating in his now legendary Ryder Cup victories―going 2-0-1 in his three matches―and his back-to-back Verizon Heritage wins.

With stories of his personal relationships with other players on tour including Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson, frequent down-home phrases, figures of speech, locker-room language, plenty of "Booisms" and never-before-seen photos, this is a golf book unlike any other.

About this title

About the Author:

THOMAS BRENT "BOO" WEEKLEY is an American professional golfer who plays on the PGA Tour. His great sense of humor, phenomenal swing, and unconventional life story have made him one of golf's most beloved athletes. Nicknamed after cartoon character Yogi Bear's sidekick, "Boo Boo" Bear, Boo loves to fish and hunt and is sponsored by the outdoors apparel company Mossy Oak, which specializes in camouflage apparel. He lives in Florida.

PAUL BROWN is an award-winning New York Times bestselling author and wildlife photographer. He lives in Mississippi.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Chapter 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 ? nd 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 ?ub 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 ? nd­ing 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 ?t 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, ? ghting primates, and playing practical jokes using snakes as the punch line. Well, okay, ?ghtin’ 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 clubhouse 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.
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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, ?sh, 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 live.

I also played every sport there was. Soccer, baseball, football, basketball—everything. Oh wait; there is one sport I didn’t play: golf. At least not until I was fourteen years old, and I really only took it up then because I kept getting hurt playing all them other sports. I’ll ?ll you in on all of that here in a bit, but let me just say golf wasn’t exactly a breeze for me (even though I didn’t get hurt much playing it). Despite what people might think, it seems nothing comes easy for me. I have to work hard at whatever I do, and golf was no different. I toiled on the minitours for ?ve years before getting my PGA Tour card, and I was living out of my truck most of that time. I might’ve driven ten to twelve hours or something just to play in one minitour event, hoping to win $2,000. Yet it’d cost me $200 for the chance to win that money, and if I didn’t win it . . . Well, you do the math. Even with a number of good wins, it was often barely enough to get by.

So I had to work hard. Had to keep at it. Had to keep improving my game. It  wasn’t easy to stay on track though, ’cause I’d get so dang aggravated when I  wasn’t playing well. Still do. The most frustrating part of golf for me is when I’m not hitting the ball right. Putting is always going to be a weakness for me, and I know that, so I’m not too bent out of shape about it. I ain’t never gonna be the Brad Faxon of the PGA Tour—he’s the best putter ever to play the game, in my opinion—or a Zach Johnson, or Heath Slocum. Nah, I’m a ball striker, so when I’m not hitting the ball, it’s annoying as all get-out. Sometimes I’ll tee the shot, I’ll visualize the shot, and then I’ll stand over it and I still  can’t hit it. That’s when I get aggravated. Of course, sometimes things happen that put me right up there in the clouds, too.

The most amazing shot I’ve ever made was when I was an amateur. I was on the Pensacola team, and we were playing against the Mobile, Alabama, team. My partner and I teed it up on a par 4. The other team hit ?rst. I asked my partner, “Whatcha think?”

It was 289 yards to the hole. “Why don’t you go ahead and hit your driver?” he suggested. “See if you can hit it up on the green, because I can lay it up on the fairway.”

I got up there, hit my driver like my partner suggested, and the ball looked like it was going to make the green. “Get down, get down,” I said. Then, all of a sudden, bam! It dropped in the hole. I’m talkin’ string music, baby. Nothin’ but net. Swish! Hole in one. Straight into the hole, and the hole ex­ploded, like a bomb had gone off. Like a meteor hitting the earth. A 6-inch cup blew up into a 10-inch cup. That ball blew the grass away from the hole. That was the greatest shot I’ve ever hit in golf.

It’s a rare enough thing to have a hole in one anyway, so my greatest shot ever really had to be one. I’ve had only nine in my lifetime, and only one on tour, at the Viking Classic in Madison, Mississippi, in 2007. It was the 12th hole during the 2nd round; I hit an 8-iron. I was playing with my buddy Heath Slocum, with his daddy, Jack, caddying. The funny thing about that was when I got paired with Heath, I walked up to Jack at the ? rst tee box for some friendly trash talkin’. I was like, “Get ready for an ass whoopin’ today, ’cause I’m ? xin’ to give ya’ll one.” Jack said, “Well, bring it, son.  We’re ready for you.” That was just us having some fun, and fun is what it’s all about.

When I made the Tour again in 2007, my agenda was to have fun instead of looking at golf as a job—and boy, did I ever have some serious fun, starting then and on through to today. The Ryder Cup in 2008, for example, was the most fun I’ve ever had in a tournament. I still get chills just thinking about it or seeing a replay of it on TV. What a thrill and an honor to play on Team U.S.A. in such a phenomenal event. You can read all about it in the next chapter, but let me say that wha...

About this edition

• Publisher: St. Martin's Griffin
• Publication date: 2012
• ISBN 10: 1250002060
• ISBN 13: 9781250002068
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 304