My money's on Boo at the Masters

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September 29, 3:37 PM

by Dave Seanor, Golf Examiner

 

 

This I learned on the last leg of a road trip from Orlando to California, which included a detour to Louisville for the Ryder Cup. I’d been assigned to deliver my newlywed daughter’s car to her new home in the Bay Area. On a whim, I pulled off Interstate 80 at Reno, curious to see if any of the sports books would take a wager on Boo Weekley to win a major next year.

I’d never set foot in Reno before, and the scene this particular Saturday was disarming.  It was “Street Vibrations” weekend, a magnet for thousands of bikers. My country club logoed golf shirt was a beacon of uncool amid a sea of leather and tattoos.

To each his own. Undaunted, I found somewhere to park and ventured off to the nearest casino, which happened to be Harrah’s.

Only the day before, I had spent the morning in the otherworldly  beauty and profound silence on back roads traversing the San Rafael Swell in southeast Utah. The sensory overload of the Reno street scene and Harrah’s gambling pit couldn’t have been a bigger contrast. Harrah’s sports book was filled with gamblers who had one eye on the next day’s NFL odds and another on the big screens showing college football.

“Any chance you take action on golf?” I asked an attendant behind the betting counter. To my surprise, he quickly produced a sheet listing odds for the 2009 Masters.

No mystery about the favorites. Following Woods, Padraig Harrington and Phil Mickelson were listed at a reasonably attractive 8/1. Sergio Garcia was15/1, followed by Ernie Els at 18/1.

The line on the Masters had opened Sept. 5. The list includes 99 players, down to past champions Craig Stadler, Ian Woosnam and Fuzzy Zoeller at 300/1. The field, meaning everyone not listed, can be had at 40/1.

The only movement as of my visit had been Vijay Singh, who opened at 22/1 and dropped to 18/1, presumably on the strength of his FedEx Cup playoff performance, and Anthony Kim, who opened at 28/1 but stirred the pot sufficiently at the Ryder Cup to fall to 18/1. If you like Tour Championship winner Camilo Villegas, you probably missed the boat at 60/1.

I’d been high on Weekley long before he starred at the Ryder Cup. As an incurable long shot player, I was pleased to see him listed at 75/1. Unhesitating, I forked over $20 on the man from Milton.

Another guy I’ve liked for a while is Ian Poulter, whose near-miss at the British Open and tenacity at Valhalla only validated my fondness. Harrah’s happily accepted another Jackson on Poulter at 40/1.

(FYI, odds makers apparently were unimpressed by J.B. Holmes’ long ball at the Ryder Cup; he didn’t budge from an opening 100/1. Now that I think about it, Kenny Perry would have merited a play at 30/1.)

Curious to see if the odds varied elsewhere, I went across the street to the sports book at Fitzgeralds. No luck. I was told it was too early to offer odds on golf.

Same story at the Eldorado, the Silver Legacy, Circus Circus and the Sands. Clearly, casinos don’t want to trifle with golf when there’s money to be made on football. A guy behind the counter at Circus Circus said they don’t offer action on golf “unless Tiger’s involved.” A woman taking bets at the Sands said, “They (odds makers) told us they were waiting on something” before posting futures on the majors. I’m guessing that “something” is the status of Tiger’s knee.

Meanwhile, the name Angel Cabrera kept popping into my mind. For years, he's been one of my top picks in Masters pools. His game is tailor made for Augusta. Putting had been a question mark for Cabrera, until he won the U.S. Open at Oakmont and its notoriously slick greens.

So I made my way back to Harrah's and plunked down $20 on Cabrera at 50/1. For the record, i never stopped at a blackjack table, roulette wheel or slot machine at any casino I visited.

Good thing, because it turned out to be my unlucky day. Shortly after leaving the parking garage and pointing the car back toward I-80, I was pulled over by a motorcycle cop for making an illegal left turn. That's correct, a motorcycle cop among thousands of pimped-out Harleys.

Thankfully, he was lenient, no doubt sympathetic to me being so obviously far out of my element. It helped, too, that I resisted making any "Reno 911" jokes. Officer Plumb was imposing; he wouldn't have been amused by queries about hot pants.

Besides, there was no sense agitating the locals. I have to come back next spring to collect my winnings. 

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