Fuzzy Wuzzy

Fuzzy Zoeller has died, and the only reason I’m mentioning his passing is that my editor for American Fan was hostile to my take on the Fuzz man. He liked him, and thought that I was being too harsh on the PGA legend. Still, to his credit, he didn’t censor my thoughts, which were brief, and not the main focus of my book.

Oddly enough, American Fan received the best reviews of my career. No less than Bob Costas told me how much he liked the book. Robert Lipsyte in the New York Times praised it. It didn’t sell for shit, but I got paid, and that’s all that really matters.

Here’s the offending passage.

Upon Tiger Woods’ win at Augusta, Fuzzy Zoeller told a CNN camera crew, “The little boy’s playing great out there. Just tell him not to serve fried chicken at the dinner next year. Or collard greens or whatever it is they serve.” Sportswriter John Feinstein tried to put Fuzzy’s remarks “in context,” suggesting that the spirit of Freedom Summer dwelled somewhere within Fuzzy. He might say this shit, but underneath was a man who’d risk his life to register Black people to vote in segregationist Mississippi. Wouldn’t we all?

Happy putting, Fuzzy. Hope Hell’s a Par Four.