Dan Jenkins Quotes
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First, I thought Twitter was some kind of hybrid car being developed by Government Motors. Then I thought it was a new bite-size snack combining what's best of the Frito and the Cheeto. Then I found out it was me. On a laptop. At the U.S. Open. Having fun.
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My aunt got me interested in journalism - she found an old typewriter, had it worked over, put it on the dining room table, gave me a stack of paper and said, 'Play like you're a writer.'
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I've worked my whole life and never missed a deadline.
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I quickly discovered that trying to go play golf while living in Manhattan was about as easy as trying to grab a taxi while standing out in front of Saks Fifth Avenue in the freezing rain on the last shopping day before Christmas.
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The U.S. won the majors 29-11 in the 1980s. That's when Tom Watson and Jack Nicklaus were carrying the ball, and when Seve Ballesteros was becoming a Brit in the minds of English and Scottish journalists.
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The ocean-bordered southern part of California has always been a place of Hollywood make-believe, casual opulence, suntans and jewelry.
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When I was a lad in my 20s, as carefree and debonair as any other underpaid newspaperman, I happened to be a golfer who could flirt with par fairly often, and I was adventurous enough in those days to play any known or unknown thief who showed up at Goat Hills for whatever amount he fancied.
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My life has been very lucky, but I made some of that luck.
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I don't cover golf tournaments anymore - I preside over them.
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I probably remember the 1954 Masters more vividly than any of the others.
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I just come from a school where you have to win something to be accepted.
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Fort Worth is friendly; it's still a Texas town. It's the most Texas city in Texas.
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I don't suppose anybody's ever enjoyed being who they are more than Arnold's enjoyed being Arnold Palmer.
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The Masters is a sell-out annually, and even the scalpers mind their manners.
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There are no Dave Marrs anymore.
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I think a great athlete transcends eras.
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If you want to put golf back on the front pages again, and you don't have a Bobby Jones or a Francis Ouimet handy, here's what you do: You send an aging Jack Nicklaus out in the last round of the Masters and let him kill more foreigners than a general named Eisenhower.
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Something mystical happens to every writer who goes to the Masters for the first time, some sort of emotional experience that results in a search party having to be sent out to recover his typewriter from a clump of azaleas.
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Golf was never a religion to me.
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Here's all I know about Dubai: It's one of those somewhere-over-there places where they make sand.
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You count a man's U.S. Amateur titles after he starts winning professional majors. That's something any intelligent golf writer with a sense of history is supposed to know.
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Nobody can make a putt that breaks to the right. It's unnatural. Unless you're left-handed, of course. Standing over a putt that breaks to the right can actually make you dizzy. I've long thought that right-breaking putts are a major contributor to mental and physical ill health.
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There was a time when caddies couldn't wear shorts.
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Marty Russo was too good a golfer to be a servant of the people.