Wiggling the waggles away

WITH EVERY REGRIP SINCE THE U.S. Open, Sergio Garcia's wiggly right thumb has pushed down firmly on golf's hot button. At Bethpage Black, Garcia's repeated breach of the New York minute had the natives regarding him with foot-tapping impatience they normally reserve for toll takers. In a mere four days, Garcia earned a permanent place in the I Know You're Waiting But I Don't Care Hall of Shame, right between ex-Texas Rangers first baseman Mike Hargrove--aka The Human Rain Delay--and the DMV.

It seems a rash penalty to inflict on an otherwise free-spirited 22-year-old. It's true that beginning at the 2001 U.S. Open at Southern Hills, Garcia has regularly frozen time with a full-shot routine of maddening metacarpal manipulations that routinely last 30 seconds or more. But he has played well. His father and teacher, Victor, insists the ritual "means absolutely nothing," although at one point last year he taped Sergio's hands to the club during a practice session. El Nino himself concedes he is seeking a speedier way to make his right hand feel more comfortable on the club, but falls short of admitting a problem. "If it bothers you," he shot back at one questioner, "don't look."

But we can't stop looking, and for good reason. Each time he manually stutter-steps, Garcia evokes every elite athlete whose world-class talents have disintegrated before our eyes. Big-league pitchers afflicted with terminal wildness--from Steve Blass to Rick Ankiel--remain the most woeful examples. But as golf receives unprecedented scrutiny, the sport's monumental supply of psychic gore is visible like never before, and Garcia has been placed at center stage.

For those who have played at the highest level, watching Garcia's routine is as physically uncomfortable as a frustration dream. "I feel bad for Sergio, because there's nothing good about it," says Hubert Green, who during the late '80s was afflicted with his own version of a protracted preshot pump. "The worst thing is, he's going to hear things from fans, and that's going to hurt. The sooner he can get rid of it, the better. I never could."

On a personal note, as a junior golfer I suffered through a summer in which it would take me an eternity to get my feet set at address. Just remembering the sensation of trying to stop the compulsion causes my throat to close as I write this. I finally began swinging as my feet were still moving after my friends started singing, "Stuck in Lodi again," because they said I looked like I was stomping grapes.

Although golfers wince while watching Garcia, psychologists are roused at the prospect of such a rich subject. "I know I could help Sergio, " says Pete Siegel, a Marina Del Rey, Calif.-based sport hypnotherapist who has worked with many professional athletes. "There is some conflict bothering him, probably on an unconscious level, which we can only speculate on. It might be that he's trying to hang on to his adolescence, or wants to assert his independence from his father, or any of a hundred things. Whatever the source of the anxiety, it's finding its release in all the waggling. I would help Sergio find how the right emotional level feels, and teach him to repeat that feeling on every shot. I guarantee you, the waggling would go away."

New York sport therapist Dr. David Grand is just as confident. Grand is known for healing trauma victims through techniques that help release painful memories, but he says the same principles work in eliminating the yips from sports performance. For example, he strongly believes Shaquille O'Neal's problems from the free-throw line stem from breaking his right wrist after a fall as a child. Grand wouldn't be surprised if Garcia once suffered an injury to his hand or fingers that, combined with the repressed memory of the trauma, causes his grip to feel uncomfortable under pressure.

"These things tend to pop out of nowhere," says Grand, "but even when they die down temporarily, the likelihood is they will remain progressive. The tendency is to believe the solution lies in taking time off and being alone. For a while things might be fine, but under stress, bam, it pops up again. It's no coincidence this happens most intensely to Sergio at U.S. Opens, and doesn't happen on the practice tee. While you can run from something like this, you can't hide."

Taking a contrary and more moderate view is Dr. Bob Rotella, who has spent two decades working closely with tour players on their mental games.

"Everybody has been asking me about Sergio's problem, but my standard response is, 'What problem?' " Rotella says. "Statistically, this still physically developing kid drives the ball better than anyone in the world, and he regrips more with the driver than with any other club. The only time he doesn't regrip is with the putter, and that's probably his weakest club. So maybe he should be writing instruction articles on the value of regripping.