My editors assured me that there were worse assignments than stalking Vijay Singh. The World Toenail-Biting Championships came to mind, followed by anything involving gymnasts with ribbons on sticks. Nonetheless, the planet's No. I've got proof from my research right here. Singh is the guy who sat for two years after signing an incorrect scorecard on the Asian Tour.
Put another way: Singh is a jerk, colder than dry ice, formaldehyde for blood. That's the yardage book on the Veej, right? So I'll be spending nine days in close pursuit of an alleged cheater, a sexist and golf's version of Montgomery Burns. No" Jones, says the Veej is off-limits for one-on-one. A story outline begins to take shape. Vijay Singh: the world's oldest-living heart donor, an enigma wrapped in dimpled urethane.
Just color inside the lines, snag a few quotes and I've got my story. No sign of the Veej. His personalized parking space, a flop-wedge away from the clubhouse, is empty. The bag-room attendants haven't seen Singh, his caddie Paul Tesori or his good friend and strength coach, Joey Diovisalvi.
Diovisalvi is an interesting dude. He looks like the guy you'd meet in the casino parking lot after a pit boss catches you counting cards: a walking muscle whose workout-and-diet regimen has helped turn Singh into a year-old hard body. Singh, who has expanded the gym at his oceanfront house in Ponte Vedra Beach, Fla. He's 6'2" but looks thicker than the pounds listed in the Tour media guide.
No surprise that back when he was a nobody, Singh earned extra cash as a bouncer. That's what you have to remember about Vijay- nobody gave him a thing. He grew up in Fiji, of Indian descent he speaks English, Fijian and Hindi , one of six children in a family whose Dad, an airplane technician and part-time golf instructor, provided the necessities but little more.
