Sanderson Farms Championship: If this is the last, thanks for the memories

“So how far back do you go with the Sanderson Farms Championship?” a friend asked recently.

The answer was simple: all the way back.

Back to 1968 when it was known as the Magnolia State Classic and was played at the Hattiesburg Country Club. There, as a 15-year-old 10th grader, I made a lot of bogeys for my high school golf team.

I caddied in the first round of the inaugural Magnolia State Classic. My pro shot 83 points that day, chipped the bark off several pine trees and cursed his way across the beautiful old course. Afterward, red-faced and still cursing, he smashed his clubs into the trunk of his car and I never saw him again. He would have had to score 57 in the second round to make the cut, and believe me, that didn't happen. I showed up for the second round and he didn't. I never paid for the first round either.

I watched PGA rookie Mac McClendon, a 22-year-old fresh out of LSU, win the inaugural Magnolia by defeating 52-year-old Pete Fleming in a nine-hole playoff after winning that day had already played 36 holes. As McClendon sank the winning putt at dusk, cars with their lights on were already streaming out of the parking lot.

This week marks the 57th annual Sanderson Farms Championship. I have watched and covered the majority of the previous 56 tournaments, with the exception of about ten years ago when I assigned myself the task of covering another small tournament they call “The Masters.”

In fact, I covered the only PGA Tour tournament in Mississippi under all eight different names. Here's the list: The Magnolia State Classic, the Magnolia Classic, the Deposit Guaranty Classic, the Southern Farm Bureau Classic, the Viking Classic, the True South Classic and of course the Sanderson Farms Championship, which has been around since Joe Sanderson saved the tournament in 2013 .

I've covered it in Hattiesburg, at the Annandale in Madison and at the Country Club of Jackson. I treated it in April, May, July, September, October and November. I deal with brutal heat and much more often with monsoon weather that is only suitable for frogs, fish and ducks. I covered the tournament at least twice for the sports department and finally covered a flood for the news department. One time, in Annandale, we narrowly escaped a nasty tornado in the media center.

From its humble beginnings – the total prize was $20,000 in 1968 – the tournament has grown into a full-fledged PGA TOUR event worth $8.2 million. That's right: Several caddies will make more money this week than McClendon did in 1968.

The truth is, I covered some of golf's greatest players before they became household names. I covered Johnny Miller when he was, as they say, a can't-miss prospect straight out of BYU. I covered Tom Watson when he was fresh out of Stanford and had a mustache. Someone told me at the time that I needed to see Watson's rhythmic golf swing, so I went to see it. I found him on the fifth hole, the most difficult on the big old Hattiesburg Country Club course. I was standing behind the green looking at the fairway when a golf ball hit from the left rough took two big bounces, rolled about 10 feet and fell into the cup. There was no roar from the gallery. Damn, me Was the gallery. Watson bounded to the green and looked everywhere for his ball.

“Check the hole,” I told him.

He did, and then flashed that gap-toothed smile that would become famous the world over.

Watson didn't win in Mississippi and neither did Miller, but Payne Stewart certainly did. That was before he wore panties. I saw future Mississippian Jim Gallagher Jr. win long before he married Cissye and became a Ryder Cup hero. I saw the late, great Chi Chi Rodriguez star in it and thoroughly entertain everyone who saw it.

I walked the fairways with John Daly, back when he was a scrawny, chain-smoking rookie, just back in the States after honing his game on the South African Tour.

I have covered Pro Ams that have included Dizzy Dean, Clint Eastwood, Glen Campbell, Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Joe Namath and many more. Dizzy Dean beat his pro in the 1970 Pro-Am competition, shooting just 73 shots, almost all of which started well to his left and moved well to his right.

“How come you cut the ball so often?” Someone in the gallery yelled at Ol'Diz.

Dean replied with a laugh, “Podnuh, if you had to swing around a belly as big as mine, you'd cut it open too.”

He was right.

In 1980, Roger Maltbie, a top player and later a famous golf broadcaster, shot a 65 in the first round and then endured three days of torrential rains that flooded Hattiesburg. During most of the storms he sat at EJ's, a bar in the Ramada Inn on Highway 49. That's where I found him after he was declared the winner on a rainy Sunday.

“How much do I get?” asked Maltbie.

“Five thousand,” I replied.

“Damn,” said Maltbie, “that’s barely enough to pay my bar bill.”

It has been widely reported – and I fear it is true – that this may well be the last Sanderson Farms Championship, which has been Mississippi's only PGA Tour tournament for so long. That's a shame in many ways, but especially because the tournament donated nearly $25 million to Mississippi charities, most of which goes to Children's of Mississippi, which provides medical care to nearly 200,000 children annually. When it goes out, it should go out with a bang. The weather forecast is perfect. The field of participants is excellent, with established stars like Matt Kuchar and Rickie Fowler on their way here.

Here's hoping a new sponsor like Joe Sanderson comes out of nowhere and saves the event. If not, please allow me to say publicly about a tournament that I have come to cherish like an old friend: Thanks for the memories.