Remembering the Time Lydia Ko’s Mum Gave Me the Evils

From the moment I locked eyes with Lydia Ko's mum, I knew I wasn't having lunch with her daughter.

A half-second before, standing in the clubhouse of a over-moneyed golf course in Rogers, Arkansas, I thought I had just scored one of the biggest scoops in Kiwi sports journalism: an exclusive, private chat with our greatest female golfer.

Over grilled chicken breasts, pasta salad and tiny mousse cups, I could have asked quizzed the 20-year-old golfing prodigy, in depth, about the big issues in her life.

Her recent slip off the world No 1 ranking. Her year long LPGA tournament victory drought. What the true influence of her parents really was. How she dealt with the pressure of being described as both the present and future of the women's golf.

Essentially: who was the real Lydia?

That morning, I had driven five hours in an attempt to answer that question, initially, for the Sunday Star-Times.

Given she is based in Orlando, and the LPGA is largely played in the States, getting time with Ko is exceptionally rare for a Kiwi journalist. Currently based in Memphis, I had spied the Walmart Northwestern Arkansas Championship looming on the calendar weeks before, and knew it was my chance.

After a few weeks of wrangling, I secured a 15-minute interview with just a day to spare, meaning I would need to leave at around four in the following morning to talk with Ko.

Crossing Arkansas, in the day's early hours, isn't all that pretty. The I-40 West and I-49 North form a 540km dogleg of waking small towns and all-night gas stations. I drank coffee, listened to Lucinda Williams and drove.

Arriving in Rogers with precious minutes to spare, I grabbed my credentials and score a seat in the pressroom, where Ko was doing a pre-tournament presser. My chat with her was booked in for straight afterwards.

Pinnacle Country Club felt like a thoroughly weird place to me. The golf course itself was bordered by dozens and dozens of McMansions with Audis and Beamers in the driveways—and rows of golf clubs inside open garage doors.

This was clearly where Rogers' moneyed elite lived, on roads like 'Lydia Ko Drive.' The lawns and streets were far too clean.

It was pro-am day, when I arrived. Ko—a two-time major winner and three-time NZ Sportswoman of the Year—rounded the 18 holes with four local businesspeople; three guys and a woman. The players get paid for their pro-am days, but it must be a bit of a chore given the LPGA season is 11 months and 35 tournaments long.

The constant churn of tournaments and pro-ams in country club style settings is the world that Ko has inhabited since turning pro in 2014. Ko has pocketed US$7.8 million (NZ$10.8 million) due to her wins and placings.

In comparison, fellow Kiwi Danny Lee has made US $8,595,239 on the PGA tour since he turned pro in 2009.

A US$10 million deal with PXG in January was another big payday for Ko, but the reality is that she has had a tough time of it over the last year. Since claiming silver at last year's Rio Olympics, Ko's mojo has disappeared with only a handful of tournament top tens—and even a few cases of missing the cut.

Since I met her in Arkansas, Ko's wobbly season has continued with more two LPGA tournament cuts and finishes way down the card at the US Women's Open, in July, and the British Open, last month. Last weekend's third place finish at the Evian Championship in France—Ko's best result in a major in her last six attempts—is more promising, but plenty of self-reflection lies ahead in the off-season.

Fingers are being pointed in every which direction as to why, though the criticism of her infamously hands-on parents—her father has taken a more prominent role in Ko's swing—has certainly been growing

"They tell her when to go to bed, what to eat, what to wear, when to practice and what to practice. And they expect her to win every tournament," concerned former coach David Leadbetter told Golf Digest late last year.

Gary Hermansson, the New Zealand team psychologist for the last five Olympic Games, met Ko in Rio last year. While he hasn't worked with her professionally, Hermansson has seen this type of situation develop between young athletes and their parents before.

He says the young athletes can sometimes bear a 'guilt' for the sacrifices their parents make as they grow in their chosen sport, with negative effects.

"People have been talking a lot about her being free to be herself rather than having the entourage or the family pressure on her—but you'd want to look at ways to do that constructively, not where it's like you try to brutalise the parents and say 'keep out of this," Hermansson tells VICE NZ.

"You might want to manage that a bit better and educate the parents around what they might be saying or doing. A lot of it is very subtle."

I was considering these elements, when Ko walked into the Pinnacle Country Club pressroom with her mum and an LPGA media minder.

A brief interview session took place. There was maybe four or five journalists in the room, and only one asked questions. I kept my powder dry.

Oddly, Ko's mum held up her smartphone and recorded the whole thing.

The 20-year-old star left the stage and I moved up to introduce myself. She remembered me from when I covered her first major as a pro three years before in Palm Springs, California.

She was 17 then, and far more reluctant with the press. I remember chatting to her a few times, but always with at least one agent at my elbow. This time, she was far more comfortable in the skin of a superstar golfer used to constant interviews and corporate responsibilities.

She was smiley and warm—and genuinely keen to talk about New Zealand. She brought up Steven Adams and Dame Val and how huge their family, collectively, were. I struggled to reconcile the Ko I met in California, and this one now.

We moved into the hallway and took a spot by the elevators. People came and went as we spoke. It wasn't ideal, but hey.

In all honesty, I gleaned little from Ko. With her mum and the media minder—who gave me two separate warnings that the clock was ticking—watching on, her responses were always going to be clipped.

She was polite and positive about her recent struggles and changing of coaches, caddies and gear, but offered no real introspection. At times, I felt she was running out the clock on some of my questions.

I saved a question about Donald Trump until last (she'd told the New York Times she was open to playing a round with him). I thought I hit this one straight onto the green, but Ko brushed it off with a 'yea, sure I'd play golf with him.'

She shook my hand, and that was it. My 15 minutes with New Zealand's smiley, polite, currently struggling golfing superstar was up. She was endearing, but pretty straight-bat.

Ko's current situation reminds Hermansson of former Kiwi pro Michael Campbell, a one-time major winner who infamously battled 'demons' that eventually forced his retirement.

Hermansson says that, along with giving Ko the space she needs to rediscover her basic enjoyment of golf, her camp's priority should be linking up with professional help to help her get things back on track.

"Once she gets a hold of somebody who helps her understand her whole mind and body management, she'll be able to manage her self-belief and focus on the moment," he says.

"There's no reason why she won't be able to reconnect and have another great phase. It could well be that the next phase could be even more brilliant than the initial one, where is is more mature as a golfer. She's clearly got the talent and ability."

I was thinking of what I had, and didn't have, to write about when my semi-standoff with Ko's mum in the Pinnacle Country Club's sprawling dining room minutes later.

I'd plonked my laptop bag on a seat and wandered off to find something water to drink. Upon my return, there was two Kos sitting at my table.The sense of hope that I approached the table with dissipated as Mrs Ko looked up at me. "I'll, err, just leave you two to it," I said, grabbing my bag.

Ko smiled and looked at her mum. Mrs Ko looked at her food. I found another seat.

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