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Not all the pros appreciate the way Trevino courts the crowds. "All the world loves a loudmouth," says one image-conscious veteran. "But sometimes Lee can be so coarse"—a reference to Trevino's predilection for jokes about "booze and broads." Most players agree, however, that he may be one of the best things to happen to golf since the steel-shafted club. "He sure brings the people in," says Frank Beard. After one tournament. Beard recalls, he saw Trevino "packing up his car, wearing his cowboy hat and his cowboy boots. I couldn't help noticing that he had more people watching him load his car than I'd had watching me shoot my 66."
Beard, a stern-faced tactician on the course, does not think that the roles of comedian and champion are compatible. "Trevino is a tremendous golfer," he says, "but nobody can tell me that a player can keep up a constant conversation with the gallery and talk to himself on the backswing and still produce his best golf." Trevino disagrees. "I'm out there to have some fun and win some money." That he does both with such stylish ease is tribute to his philosophy of the game: "Stay loose." A friend explains: "Lee's secret is that when he has to, he can approach a difficult shot laughing, turn on the concentration, hit the ball and then go off laughing again. It may not look like he's concentrating, but he is."
Trevino's no-sweat image belies his devotion to the game. On his first day at the 1968 Masters, he played 36 practice holes, followed that with nine holes on a pitch-and-putt course and then, after a shower, ended at midnight on a par-three course, going another nine holes in sports coat and alligator shoes. Prior to last year's British Open, he spent eight full days hitting 600 to 700 practice shots a day learning how to hook the smaller English ball. "I play every day," he says. "Even if I'm taking some time off, I'm out there beating balls. You got to hit the ball in this game until your hands bleed."
Trevino takes little time off; this season he is playing in more tournaments than any other top pro. Nicklaus, for one, thinks that could be harmful to Lee's game. "Right now," he says, "Lee's like a kid a few years out of college—it's go, go, go. But in a couple of years, he'll have to learn to pace himself or he'll burn himself out." Trevino pays no heed. "You have to remember," he says, "that I'm only playing tour golf for four years. I have a lot of ground to make up. I'll play 'em all, whether it's the Canadian Bacon Open or the Screen Door Open. If the money's there, I'll play on a gravel road."
Too Poor to Care