The Last Word
Annika Sorenstam and Mike Weir, alike in so many ways, reached new highs in 2003. And with their talent and determination, there's no end in sight.
By KEN FIDLIN -- Toronto Sun
When Annika Sorenstam won the 1995 United States Women's Open, she made the discovery that comes to all reluctant superstars.
She learned that her relentless pursuit of excellence was not a ride she could take on her own. She was no longer Annika the person, but Annika the personality and, for her, the mantle of celebrity was an ill-fitting garment.
"I don't know what I've got myself into," she said with some dismay.
Nearly a decade later, Sorenstam -- older, wiser and more comfortable in her own skin -- was one of the most dominant personalities in the world of sports in 2003. And she knows exactly what she's into.
Legend has it that, as an amateur, she purposely three-putted the final hole with a tournament championship on the line because she was utterly terrified of delivering a victory speech. Yet, at the same time, she practised her craft with the single-minded determination of a bulldog.
Ironically, Sorenstam's love/hate relationship with celebrity is, at least in part, what made her foray into the men's PGA Tour such a compelling event last summer. As the undisputed best woman player in the world, Sorenstam was the logical choice to challenge the gender barrier. What made it work was her own bearing. She is, in the words of her caddie, a "person of pride without vanity, excellence without ego" and those genuine qualities struck a chord with people all over the world, including those thousands who lined every fairway at Colonial last June.
"She deserves everything she gets," said agent Mark Steinberg, "because she doesn't expect anything."
Indeed, there are many comparisons to be made between Sorenstam and Canada's Mike Weir, who has also cleaned up on the post-season awards front.
Like Sorenstam, Weir treats celebrity as a necessary nuisance on the road to excellence. He has proven that it is entirely possible and, in many ways, completely appropriate to be humble and ambitious at the same time. In hockey, we call it Canadian grit.
GREAT CANADIAN HOPE
Were he just another American golfer among many, Weir would be able to fly largely under the radar as he wishes. But as the great Canadian hope, with the eyes of an entire nation on him every time he tees it up, Weir becomes this country's answer to Tiger Woods, a role that runs counter to his personality.
"I understand it," he says, "but it's not something that most of the other guys have to deal with. It certainly gives me an appreciation of what Tiger goes through but it's not something I would seek out."
Yet it never occurs to Weir to be anything but the best he can be. His pursuit of excellence, of something better, is relentless. The same with Sorenstam.
She knew from the very moment last January that she suggested she would accept an invitation to a PGA event if it was offered that a circus would ensue. It was not a publicity stunt. It was something Sorenstam believed would make her a better player, and it did.
Even though she didn't make the cut at Colonial, in the first round she hit 14 greens and four fringes, putting for birdie 18 times. She was unprepared to putt the slicker greens that populate the PGA Tour venues but she proved she could play.
And when it was over, she was satisfied with the experience and walked away, saying she was going back "where she belongs."
Truth is, Sorenstam is so good, and so well-liked that she belongs anywhere she wants to be. And the best part is, she doesn't even realize it.
Weir is much the same. It won't stop either of them from going wherever their talent and desire takes them.
