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Ayr Power The amazing story of Karrie Webb, the small-town girl from Australia who has rocketed to the top of women's golf with four straight wins
Posted: Thursday March 16, 2000 11:58 AM STARRING
KARRIE WEBB as Herself SCREENPLAY BY ALAN SHIPNUCK
A SUGARCANE FIELD--DAY: The cane ripples in the wind, like swells at sea, stretching eight, 10, 12 feet toward a blinding sun. The camera pulls back to reveal a tiny island of activity amidst the endless fields, the small hamlet of Ayr, in north Queensland, Australia. We pan down the town's main drag, Queen Street. From the look of the cars, it is clearly the late 1950s. It is a Sunday afternoon, the one day of the week when the farmers come to town, and a crowd is growing in front of the Delta Theatre. The marquee is understated. Only the ornate carvings in the beams framing the silver screen hint at any sort of Hollywood grandeur. Standing in the ticket line, clutching his mother's hand, is young ROB WEBB, turned out in his Sunday best. From the look on his face, he is delighted to be making his weekly pilgrimage to the movies. Rob pays no attention to the little girl in line behind him, EVELYN COLLINSON, who also squeezes a mother's hand. In a town like Ayr, dreams are hard to come by. That's what the movies are for. DISSOLVE TO: The familiar silhouette of the Delta's facade looks down upon Queen Street, though the marquee has been replaced by sheets of rusting corrugated metal adorned with the faded lettering of a Chinese restaurant and a clothing store, both long gone. The former expanse of the Delta's lobby has been carved into two vacant storefronts. Splashed across a grungy window is a banner: PUBLIC AUCTION DEC. 17, 1999. CUT TO THE ABANDONED CHINESE RESTAURANT--DAY: Rob and Evelyn Webb, 27 years into their marriage, sit impassively, holding hands. Rob has the callused paws and meaty forearms of a carpenter. Evelyn is hardly dainty, a swimmer and crackerjack water-skier. Around them the room is abuzz with the anticipation of the impending auction. Evelyn holds a cell phone to her ear. On the other end of the connection is her daughter KARRIE, 25, calling from her home in Boynton Beach, Fla. She is coming off one of the greatest seasons in LPGA history, during which she won a record $1,591,959. Her parents are representing her in the bidding. The auction begins, and with one other serious bidder present, the price on the 15,952-square-foot lot quickly zooms upward -- 200,000, 250,000, 300,000 Australian dollars (one Australian dollar equals .61 U.S. dollars). Evelyn talks a mile a minute into the phone. At $330,000 she gingerly raises her hand. The other bidder pushes the price to $340,000. Karrie chimes in from the other side of the world. Evelyn pushes the bid to $350,000. The room freezes, the gavel slams. The Webbs' real estate agent, Harry Burbidge, jumps to embrace them. BURBIDGE (VOICE-OVER): "Karrie has always been the favorite daughter of Ayr. When she comes home, she's just Karrie. She is a private person, and that's respected by one and all, but everyone in town is so excited about her plans to restore the old Delta Theatre. It's really the first time she has reached out to the community. I can tell you, the refurbishment of the theater is going to be very good for the local economy. It's thought to be a $1.2 million (U.S.) project. From what I understand there are going to be state-of-the-art systems for sound and projection. It might not sound like an exciting development to the outside world, but it is here in Ayr, where the nearest movie theater is an hour away. Without a good movie theater, the only excitement in these parts is waiting for Karrie to win another tournament." CUT TO: A DRIVE-IN MOVIE COMPLEX CIRCA 1989--DAY: A tight shot of the blinding- white plywood screen, then the camera pulls back to reveal an expansive parking lot, empty save for the rusted poles on which idle speakers hang. The silence is broken by the sound of a golf ball skipping across the baked pavement, pinballing off the poles. The camera pulls back farther to reveal a young golfer at the far end of the lot hitting from a patch of turf, and her coach, KELVIN HALLER, looking on. The grass is an extension of Haller's backyard, which borders the drive-in. Haller is in his mid 30s, the greenkeeper at Ayr Golf Club and one of the area's best players. In a couple of years he will suffer a stroke while playing the course's 4th hole, confining him to a wheelchair. For now, he stands behind young Karrie, a little pixie who's all blonde ponytail and dogged concentration. We watch as she sends ball after ball screaming into the parking lot. HALLER (VOICE-OVER): "My parents ran a news agency on Queen Street. I worked there some growing up and spent most of the time reading the golf magazines. Next door was a toy shop owned by Karrie's grandparents, MICK and JOY COLLINSON. The families were friendly. When Karrie became interested in golf, someone suggested I teach her the game. She was my first student. I knew pretty quick she was special. She was an athletic girl, strong for her size. But what made her special was determination, determination, determination. She could hit balls all day, even in that sun. Of course, it wasn't just hitting balls. It was picking 'em up, too." CUT TO THE AYR GOLF CLUB--DUSK: The modest white clubhouse looms over Edwards Street, just outside the center of town. Ayr State High ("Preparing responsible, informed and valued citizens") is down the road, separated only by an expansive athletic field. The house that Karrie grew up in, a modest green-and-yellow five-bedroom Queenslander at 85 Norham Road, is two blocks away. The camera wanders across the gently rolling course until it finds Webb, playing with her favorite adversaries, Haller's nephews, RYAN and TODD HALLER. Webb is still in her teens, but already she will play only with the best male golfers and only from the back tees, from which the course measures 6,452 yards and plays to a par of 71. Ryan is on the way to a career, albeit a middling one, as a touring pro, but it is Todd who seems to have captured Karrie's fancy. Between brilliant shotmaking (Todd plays off a three handicap) they flirt like mad. By the time Karrie turns pro in October 1994, they will be engaged. For now they play on into the sunset. CUT TO PINE NEEDLES LODGE AND GOLF CLUB, OUTSIDE PINEHURST, N.C.--DAY: It is Friday of the 1996 U.S. Open, the biggest tournament of Webb's rookie year on the LPGA tour. She has already made a stunning debut in the States, finishing second in her first tournament and first in her second. Shortly thereafter, she won again, at one of the LPGA's top events, the Titleholders. Alas, there was trouble in paradise. At the Titleholders her caddie-fiance, Haller, said of his duality, "Oh, god, it's the hardest thing I've ever done. There's an incredible strain on the relationship. We try to leave the game on the course, but she's got to let off steam at someone." Three weeks before the Open, in Japan, Haller abandoned Webb in mid-tournament. The following week he wasn't on the bag at all, and Webb finished 75th, the worst showing of her nascent LPGA career. Now she has just finished the second round at the Open and is staring down the gun barrel of the golfing press. WEBB (SURROUNDED BY MICROPHONES, AND GROWING FLUSTERED): "I've answered a lot of questions this year. My personal life is my personal life." Despite her protestations, the questions continue. A tear forms. Then another. And another. The reporters have done what no golf course ever has--made Karrie Webb cry. CUT TO A BUSTLING PRESS ROOM IN EARLY 2000--DAY: Bernie Pramberg of the The Courier-Mail in Brisbane, slouches in front of his laptop. One of Australia's leading golf writers and a Queenslander himself, he has been writing about Webb since she was a promising preteen. Pramberg: "The thing you've got to remember, mate, is that Karrie is a country girl. Meeting strangers, talking in front of crowds--that's not the kind of thing any country girl is going to be comfortable with. When Karrie came up, she might have been a little wary of strangers, but if she knew you, she could be a lot of fun. Everything changed after the breakup with her caddie. [Haller is now married to a doctor and working as an insurance broker.] I don't think any of us will ever fully understand how scarred she was. A lot of speculation and innuendo got printed here in Australia. I think Karrie decided after that she was never going to open herself up to that kind of scrutiny. Can you blame her, mate?" CUT TO A GRAND BALLROOM IN THE BREAKERS HOTEL, PALM BEACH, FLA. -- NIGHT: Seven hundred guests have forked over $1,000 a plate for a black-tie gala celebrating the LPGA's 50th anniversary. The bash, which doubles as the annual awards dinner, is held three days before the start of the Office Depot, the 2000 season-opener. So many who have sacrificed so much for the LPGA -- Patty Berg, Betty Jameson and Louise Suggs among them -- are on hand, but it is Webb, coming off a year in which she won six times and set an alltime scoring record (69.43), who is the featured attraction. Webb is called to the stage to pick up her hardware. She wears a sexy black-sequined dress. Her golden hair is expertly coiffed. She looks glamorous, beautiful even, a far cry from her dour on-course persona. It is a small thing, this metamorphosis, but not insignificant. Having been ripped so often for shunning the spotlight, Webb seems, for the first time, comfortable under the klieg lights, selling herself and her sport. CUT TO IBIS GOLF AND COUNTRY CLUB--DAY: It is the first round of the Office Depot. In the pro-am format Webb has taken both her parents as partners. Her younger sister Katie caddies for Evelyn. Her uncle Garry Annand caddies for Rob. Mick and Joy; Karrie's other sister, Janelle; an aunt and three cousins make up a boisterous gallery. The entire Webb clan is staying at Karrie's new house on the Intercoastal waterway, the one decorated with Australian arts and crafts, with the boat and Jet Skis out back. Karrie is as relaxed as she has ever been on a golf course. Every time one of her parents hits a good shot, she slips into the voice of her screen idol, Austin Powers, and squeals, "Yeah, baby!" The Spy Who Shagged Me is indicative of the high-brow fare Karrie enjoys. Her parents have passed on their love of the movies, if not their good taste. Following the first round Webb is ringed by reporters. She is confident, funny even. She has never seemed more herself--a country girl surrounded by her large and loving family. Karrie: "I wasn't nervous at all. I was more worried about how stressed out they would be. In fact, on the front nine I struggled a couple of times with my concentration." That would be the same front nine on which Webb shot a five-under-par 31. Her 65 leads the tournament. CUT TO THE PRESS ROOM IN THE IBIS CLUBHOUSE -- DAY: Three rounds have been played at the Office Depot, and Webb's lead is seven shots. Leaning against the wall is an exhausted JULI INKSTER. She has just finished playing in winds that have been gusting to 40 mph. Inkster: "Karrie doesn't just want to win, she wants to beat you. That's a different thing entirely. But she goes about it in the right way. She's very gracious. Last year at the Tour Championship she came up to me and said, 'As far as player of the year, I think we both deserve it. I want you to know that I respect you as a player and a person.' How cool was that? She plays with such controlled power, such beauty and grace. I love watching her play, even when she's beating my brains out." DISSOLVE TO AN IMAGE OF WEBB SWINGING: The camera pulls back to reveal KELVIN HALLER's computer room. He is studying Webb's swing, fed by digital film she has had shot on the driving range and then uploaded to him Down Under. It is early February 2000, and Webb has just been home for a tune-up in advance of the Australian Open and Australian Ladies Masters. HALLER (VOICE-OVER): "This is video taken a year ago. Notice the path of the club on the way back. You see how laid off it is? That would lead to blocks. Now look at this swing. It's the new one. Watch the path of the club. On plane, square to the target line the whole way. Perfect. Last year Karrie went to the cross-handed putting stroke and won six times. This year she has improved her swing significantly. She is only going to get better and better. You'll see." DISSOLVE TO A LIVING ROOM -- DAY: Another image of Karrie swinging, this one frozen in time. The camera pulls back to reveal the home page of golfweb.com. Rob and Evelyn are reading a recap of Karrie's victory at last week's Takefuji Classic, on the big island of Hawaii. Haller's clairvoyance is eerie. Webb had gone on to sweep the two tournaments in Australia, and her win last Saturday was her fourth in as many tries in 2000. The Aussie Open is not an LPGA event, so officially Webb's winning streak is at three, the first LPGA player to pull off the hat trick since JoAnne Carner in 1982. Nancy Lopez's alltime record of five consecutive victories is on the horizon. The win at Takefuji was all the sweeter because it came at the expense of ANNIKA SORENSTAM, once presumed to be Webb's rival, now merely her doormat. Webb's victory pushed her career total to an astonishing 19 -- or one more than Sorenstam's. Rob and Evelyn can't help but smile when they get to the part about Karrie birdieing the first playoff hole (just as at the end of regulation, she had gone for the green of the tricky par-5 18th hole in two, while Sorenstam laid up). They turn off the computer. Rob leaves for work. CUT TO THE OLD DELTA THEATRE -- DAY: The rebuilding of the Delta is under way. The recent demolition has revealed the ribs of the old theater--swooping wooden beams, a few with their carvings still visible. Fresh building materials are stacked chest-high throughout the gutted interior. The theater will take Evelyn and Rob into a working retirement, as they plan to run it themselves, collecting tickets, buttering the popcorn and even running the projectors. The Webbs hope to be open for business before the year is out. There is much work to be done, and Rob, a contractor and builder, is going to do a lot of it himself. The camera pulls back, leaving Rob alone in the old Delta. We travel down Queen Street, all the way to the outskirts of town. There we find the larger-than-life form of Karrie Webb, reflective shades and all. She has not been projected onto a movie screen, but she is a star nonetheless. Webb looks down from a billboard advertising the Ayr Golf Club. PLAY WHERE CHAMPIONS PLAY IT SAYS. The camera pulls back farther and farther, until Ayr is swallowed up by the endless fields of sugarcane. The cane sways in the wind, just as it always has, just as it always will. FADE OUT.
Issue Date: March 13, 2000
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