The figure: $8.8 million. Mull over that for a bit. That’s what Steve Williams made from his 10% cut of prize money alone during his 13-year stint as Tiger Woods’ bagman. And that doesn’t include the numerous sponsorship deals that came by dint of that association, which ended in 2011. Today, Williams, who has an estimated net worth of $20 million, is also the richest sportsperson in New Zealand. There are a multitude of reasons for Williams to have quietly held his peace: an unwritten code of honour between professional players and caddies; a measure of respect for the man who, at least in his heyday, was the greatest golfer on the planet; and least of all the personal fortune Williams amassed on the back of Woods’ wins. But instead of being remembered (and immortalised in the game’s history) as possibly the most successful caddy; and one half of the most successful partnership ever in the game, Williams has squandered whatever locus standi he may have acquired over the years by writing a tell-all memoir.

From whatever excerpts I’ve read from the book it appears less of a revelatory book rather than a whine, which seeks to distance the writer from all the controversies that have afflicted Woods since the golfer’s fall from grace following the personal infidelity scandal in 2008 and ensuing break-up of his marriage. Essentially what Williams puts forth, in not very subtle ways, is that while Woods and he were as close as family, he had no knowledge of his misdemeanours and was not an abettor. Irrespective of the truth of that, which we’ll never know for sure, just the sheer act of writing the memoir dilutes whatever moral high ground William may have had.

And he doesn’t stop at protestations of innocence either: “one thing that really pissed me off was how he would flippantly toss a club in the general direction of the bag, expecting me to go over and pick it up,” Williams writes. “I felt uneasy about bending down to pick up his discarded club—it was like I was his slave.” Whoa! No, I’ve never been a fan of Woods’ frequently boorish on-course behaviour—the golfer was known for his glum demeanour and cuss words—that was especially inappropriate, considering how much of a role model he used to be for children. But that said, being fiercely competitive was what made Woods as great as he was. And while you can chastise him for his behaviour, that criticism can certainly not come from his caddy who’s making some pretty serious money. And to use a word like slave is, in fact, diluting the serious import the word carries! There’s not a caddy in the world who wouldn’t pick up a club thrown by a player every time he hit a shot if it meant a payday like Williams got accustomed to. Of course, that’s hyperbole, but the fact of the matter is that you accept the good and the bad when you’re caddying for a player. And Williams was free to leave Woods and caddy for someone else which he—no surprises—never did. I can only assume that feeling like a slave didn’t feel so demeaning after all.

But the book doesn’t come as a surprise. Williams isn’t exactly popular on tour. In New Zealand in 2008, Williams was in the news for all the wrong reasons when he made some distasteful comments about Phil Mickelson. According to British newspaper The Guardian, he said, “I wouldn’t call Mickelson a great player, “cause I hate the pxxxk”. In a next-day interview with another newspaper, the New Zealand-based Star Times, Williams also said, “I don’t particularly like the guy. He pays me no respect at all and hence I don’t pay him any respect. It’s no secret we don’t get along either.” But worse was in November 2011, shortly after being dropped by Woods, Williams who had started caddying for Australian Adam Scott made a comment about Woods that was perceived as racist. Williams made an apology soon after, and crucially, got off lightly when Woods himself said that Steve Williams is “certainly not racist”.
After their relationship ended in 2011, Williams spoke about it in an interview to Golf Digest magazine. “The way Tiger fired me in 2011 was disappointing. He told me about it over the phone. Not hearing it from him face-to-face really bothered me. The suddenness of it, the way it was done, him coming out of the hardest time in his life and me having been loyal to him for so many years, was worth some consideration,” Williams told the magazine at the time.

“Caddies get fired all the time—hey, Greg (Norman) fired me in 1989—but when you have what you believe is a friendship, it’s going to leave a mark.” That snub obviously hurt Williams, and he’s responded now with an equal lack of finesse. Woods is just a shadow of the faultless figure he was made out to be once upon a time. But with this feeble effort at trying to exonerate himself and trample on his ex-boss—who’s already down and out—Williams has actually made Woods look like the better man in comparison. If I was Adam Scott then I’d be pretty worried right now.
A golfer, Meraj Shah also writes about the game