Florida Golf Monthly

Tampa's Wade Boggs

For his entire athletic life, Tampa's Wade Boggs has proven himself one of the hardest workers on Earth when it comes to mastering the intricacies of hitting a ball. Ask him to stand stone still in front of 50,000 screaming fans while a pitcher fires a baseball in his direction at a speed exceeding 100 mph, and he is equal to the task. In fact, he has done it successfully 2,800 times in his career. If he does it another 200 times, a personal plaque bearing his name awaits him in baseball's Hall of Fame. By that time, at least five years after he retires from baseball, Boggs might be on his way to a second athletic career. The challenge of standing stone still before a throng of deadly silent people, then swinging at a ball that coldly stares up, daring to him to hit it thrills him.

"Right now," says Boggs, who returns home as a member of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays inaugural team this season, "[golf is] third on my priority list behind hunting and fishing, but I can see that changing once I retire from baseball. I'm fortunate that I can remain in the Devil Rays organization after I'm done playing if I choose, but I know golf will be moving way up on my priority list. I really love it."

For now, Boggs is content with golf's place in his life. It's not a game that frustrates the 40-year-old third baseman; it's a game that brings him joy, a game he relishes. "I never get frustrated playing golf," says Boggs, who currently carries a handicap around the 12 mark, "because there's always that one shot you know is going to bring you back. Right now, I don't play enough to get upset. I'm lucky in that I'm a pretty consistent player, and the scores don't get too far out of range."

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During the off-season, Boggs makes it to the course (usually Tampa Palms Country Club) about four or five times a week. Once the season begins, however, he packs his clubs with the mothballs in the closet where they remain until the fall.

"I don't play at all during the season," he says. "I think it takes too much out of you if you're an everyday positional player. It's okay for a pitcher because they have four days off between starts and they don't have to worry. I've always said in my next life, I'd like to come back as a 20-game winning pitcher because I could play golf all the time and no one would say anything about it. But as an everyday player, getting up that early and being out there in the heat of the day, going back to your room for a quick nap and then going to the ballpark is just too long a day."

Because of his in-season commitment to abstinence from golf, Boggs missed many golden opportunities to play some of the great golf courses in the New York area when he was with the New York Yankees.

"I lived in Westchester County," he says, "and I was near places like Wing Foot and Quaker Ridge, but never got to play them. Jimmy Key [a Yankee teammate] played them all and said they were really great, but he's a pitcher. He could play them all."

For now, Boggs happily waits for the day when he can decide for himself when and where he plays golf. When that time comes, he'll be ready to rise to the challenge of the game's unique problems. He'll be able to give golf the same effort he now gives baseball.

"Ted Williams [the legendary Hall of Fame outfielder for the Boston Red Sox and the last man to hit .400 for a season] says that hitting a baseball is the hardest thing to do in sports," says Boggs, "and he's right. But I think the second hardest thing to do is hit a golf ball straight. It takes a lot of work and a lot of dedication to learn how to do that. Then you have to learn the short game and all the little things you have to do to be successful with that. To be a good golfer takes a lot of hard work. I know I'll be able to do it once I'm done with baseball."

Boggs has already experienced enough success in the golf arena to find himself seduced by its bright lights of glory. "I've played in a lot of pro-ams," says Boggs, "and it's been great. Last year, on the day before the Tampa senior tournament (the GTE Classic), I played with David Graham, who blew away the field in the tournament. It was really great. He shot a 68 and wasn't happy. I couldn't believe it!

"Well," says Boggs, warming to the story, "I had a real Tin Cup experience. We get to the 17th hole &emdash; a par 5 &emdash; and I have 250 yards of carry over water to reach the green. I told David I was going for it. He just kind of looked at me and said, 'well, okay.' I hit a 3-wood and killed it. He started saying, 'I think it's going to make it over the water! I think it's going to reach the green! The ball reached the green and stopped 6-feet behind the hole. The gallery was really cheering. They ride in carts on the Senior Tour, but I told them, 'I think I'm going to walk this one.'"

That moment the inclination that this golf life might just be for him hit Boggs hard. "As I was walking towards the green," he says, his eyes brightening, "the crowd started cheering. It grew as I got to the green. I thought this must be what it's like when you walk up 18 to the amphitheater green at Riviera where they play the Los Angeles Open. I'm used to hearing the fans, but it's not like this. In baseball, everyone isn't for you. In golf, it's always positive. Even if you miss a shot, it's positive. You never get called names. I love playing in front of the galleries at golf tournaments. That really gets me going. I'd like more of that."

Boggs knows that to even think of reaching that plateau, he has a lot of work to do. He does have a leg up on the long game because, as he points out, baseball enables him to work on aspects of his golf swing every day. "There are a lot of parallels between the baseball swing and the golf swing," says Boggs, who golfs the way he bats &endash; left-handed. "The hand-eye coordination is similar. You have to keep your head down. The weight shift is the same. The swing planes are the same. The golf ball is like a low pitch. I try to swing inside out in baseball and I try for the same plane in golf. All of that is in place."

What isn't in place is the mastery of the game acquired through experience, repetition and just plain hard work. "I'm a pretty good putter," he says, "but my biggest problem is from 80 yards in. That's real tough for me. You've got to hit a lot of those shots in practice so they're natural for you, and I haven't had the chance to do that. But I will someday."

For the most part, Boggs' golfing experience mirrors that of many professional athletes who are still active in their careers. Most play golf only when close to home, and when they do take a golfing road trip, they're traveling because they want to, not because their professional career necessitates it.

"I play right here in the Tampa area most of the time," explains Boggs, "but I have done some traveling. I've played a lot in the Caribbean and I've played some in Hawaii. I've played at Kapalua on Maui and I've played all the courses on Kuai. Kuai may be the most awesome place to play golf I've ever been. It's just beautiful there."

Boggs has always been an athlete who thrives on performing for the crowd. The attention of onlookers caused his adrenaline to flow from the very first time he picked up a bat, and Boggs knows he can't turn off the entertainer-fan relationship. One of his recent non-athletic appearances proved this.

"It was at a Beach Boys concert," he recalls, "and I was with a friend of mine who played saxophone for Chicago. He was supposed to go on stage and play. Instead, he gave me a sax and told me to go out there and play the "ghost sax" while he played back stage. Everyone thought I was really playing and they went crazy. It was a great rush. It was wild. A couple of days later, I was at a store and a guy stopped me and said, 'I knew you could play baseball, but you can really play the sax.' I told him, 'yeah, I've been working at it for a year and it was coming along.' Like the golf galleries, everything was so positive. It's great. I'd like a lot more of it."

Like any successful athlete, Boggs is a true competitor. And his competitive approach to golf provides him with a measuring stick for improvement. The glint in his eyes suggests that Boggs may already be more serious about his quest for golf success than he lets on. "I always play with players better than I am," he says with that sparkle in his eye. "They never say, 'nice shot,' unless it is one by their standards. When they say that to me, it means something and it gets me going."

Until the day comes when he can devote the time to golf he deems necessary for success, Boggs will settle for the little victories that come his way. They fuel his confidence and pique his interest.

"A couple of years ago at the Tampa tournament [GTE]," he recalls, "I was playing with Don January, and we were on a tee and there was almost a 300-yard carry in front of us on this hole, or you could lay up to the side. Orville Moody had come up on the tee to watch us. I told Don I was going for it. He thought I should reconsider. I hit it good and carried it to the fairway. I remember Orville saying to Don in a gravelly deep drawl, 'that boy is loonngg!' That was great. I walked that hole too."

No matter which sport he's playing, Boggs loves to have the crowd on his side. This year, Devil Rays fans will quickly discover that he's fully prepared to fight for their support. Maybe he's just warming up for the golf galleries that may follow.